Majestic and Wild by Murray Pura

Author:Murray Pura
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: REL012040, REL012060, Nature—Religious aspects—Christianity
ISBN: 9781441241122
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group

18

A Horse for Christmas

I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh’s chariots.

Song of Solomon 1:9 KJV

In the wilderness it is especially clear that Christmas is not about things, but about family, friends, and faith.

Christmastime was white and sparkling at the outpost clinic, unlike the green and wet Christmases of Vancouver, which had been our experience for several years before heading north. I took the truck to a lonely stretch of forest, let the dogs pile out and chase each other through the snow, and cut down a lodgepole pine with a steel bucksaw. Unfortunately, it looked better in the forest than it did in our small living room. Without all the other pines around it, our tree appeared thin and scraggly. On the other hand, it was real and it filled the house with the powerful scent of evergreen and the Canadian north. We decorated it simply and placed our presents underneath, including the dogs’ rawhide bones, which they always managed to sniff out.

Of the dozen or so people who lived right by the clinic, the youngest were Mack and Megan. We’d shared meals together, and Mack, a ranch hand, always made me laugh when he ate my “old recipe” chuck wagon stew. The stew had whole onions in it, big as apples, and Mack would ladle these into his bowl, carve them up with knife and fork, and gobble them down.

“They’re meant to add flavor to the stew,” I told him. “You’re supposed to leave them in the pot.”

Mack grunted. “If they’re in the pot then they’re part of the stew. And if they’re part of the stew they’re meant for eating.”

Eating at their log home, we would sit talking until the room grew dark, at which point Mack or Megan lit candles and oil lamps so we could see one another’s faces—no candles burned for effect at their place (unlike our home). Nor was the wood crackling in the fireplace for effect either. It was there to keep us warm, not to make us feel romantic.

So when Mack came by on his horse, just before noon on Christmas Day, I knew that riding the few hundred yards when he could have walked wasn’t for effect either. He swung down, gave us Christmas greetings, and extended the horse’s reins to me.

“I know you both like to ride and you got no horses of your own. So take Charlotte out. That’s my merry Christmas gift to the two of you.”

Linda was pretty excited so I invited her to go first. Mack adjusted the stirrups and Linda began to walk Charlotte up the road that wound around the hill in back of the clinic. The mare was milk white with a long mane. Linda was blond and her blue eyes were flashing. Horse and rider suited each other. It was so mild and sunny, in the 40s, that my wife wore no hat. Her hair fell loosely down her back as Charlotte vanished in the trees high above us, Linda smiling and holding the reins lightly.

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