An Indelible Memory

   "Holly...Don't. You. Cry."
     These words & the man that said them to me have come back to me many times over in the last 30 years. I'll never forget the experience; it became an indelible memory for me, a benchmark in my development of strength & maturity.  I can still feel his hands on my shoulders & the intensity in his eyes that willed me to have a resolve of steel...something that wasn't quite fully developed within me at that point.
     I was 19 years old and had completed my first year of college. With much trepidation, but with a desire bigger than my lack of confidence & funds, I signed up to participate in the harness racing program at my college. It's an experience that I'm so thankful I got to have.
     The program was led by Mr. M...a man that I admired, looked up to, but also felt intimated by. I had never felt comfortable with most men. I never told Mr. M anything about my life but he was perceptive and I think he knew what my deal was, even if he didn't know my details. He often tried to put me in situations that would build my confidence. More often than not, it didn't work lol. I think sometimes he allowed me to do things that he knew I wasn't confident enough for, but he acted confident enough for both of us...and let me struggle my way through it. I used to silently pray he wouldn't ask me to do things because I didn't want to let him down. Or myself.
He was my anatomy & physiology professor as well as the head of our harness racing & management program. I loved his class.  He was one of those teachers that was passionate about the subject he taught and it was contagious.  I remember he was teaching about muscle cells in the horse & what happens when a horse "ties up" after working/racing hard. It was very detailed, the explanation of what was occuring inside the cells & systems of the horse.  I remember myself & my class beginning to get lost...and then he said, "Ok, now, let's bring this back to the stall." And it made sense. lol
In class, in the barn, on the racetrack, he was always expanding our minds, pushing us past our limits and then bringing it "back to the stall." 
     I learned a lot that summer. I grew a lot that summer. I did something that I was terrified to do; but I did it.  Before every harness race that I drove in, I threw up before the race.
     In one of my early races, I drove a little chestnut mare named Cathy's Rainbow. She was small, strong & mighty. I was small, not so strong & not mighty, but had beat back my fear enough to get into the race bike. I remember the sound of wheels & horses sucking in air & exploding it out again, the smell of dirt and horse sweat. As hard as I tried, I couldn't hold that fireball back & she spent a good part of the race with her head over the shoulder of the guy in front of me. Harness racing is very dangerous. Pile-ups happen. It was a penalty/foul and I knew it. There weren't a lot of girls in harness racing that were driving horses and I felt like I had just confirmed to the men there why girls/women shouldn't.
     I don't remember how I did in that race.  All I remember is that I was disqualified for that penalty. And I was called over the loud speakers to go to the judge's booth to speak to the race officials. Talk about terrifying. I handed my horse to someone & Mr. M purposely strode up to me, bent down to eye-level with me, grabbed my shoulders and said, "You have to talk to the judges alone.  Holly, don't you cry. Got it? Do not cry. Now, go on & get it over with."
     It felt like a long walk to the stand and the ladder I had to climb seemed very long. I didn't know what kind of punishment or fine that was in store for me. I climbed up to the stand, built like a large kid's fort & saw 4 pairs of eyes watch me come up through the floor. My imagination had run wild & I was under the illusion that it would be like a firing squad. The reality was that they were stern, but fair. They also suggested I do some upper body strength-training lol. Since no one was harmed & the driver in front of  me didn't make a big deal out of it, I was fine, even though disqualified. 
     I walked back to the barn feeling like a survivor & Mr. M made a bee-line for me. I didn't know if he was angry with me for screwing up the race & being disqualified. He walked next to me and said, "did you cry?" I said no. He put his arm around my shoulder as we kept walking and said, "I'm proud of you."
    After that summer season, I came into my own in the program.  I became more comfortable in my own skin, braver, more confident and less concerned with the opinion of others. With the horses, I gave them my best...that's what they deserve. They've always been my favorite "people" and I had a knack with the high-strung, nervous ones. I became the go-to person for those particular horses. I never excelled at racing & only won one race total. But, I started a process of learning that more often than not, being brave means doing things scared, and that's how I became brave, one scary step at a time. 

     I recently turned 50 and I've raised 2 kids and still raising 2 more (3 girls, 1 boy). They are the strongest, more confident & brave kids I know.  I watch them and all the things they do and I could cry, I'm so proud of them; so thankful they're not plagued with the things I struggled with or the reasons I used to be that way. In some ways, their bravery has helped me to be more so. I wouldn't change anything about my past or the things that happened to me as a child. They made me who I am. And, I'm proud of me.

I don't know if Mr. M knows how much I looked up to him & what an impact he had on me.  I never told him. He didn't really seem like the kind of man you talk to like that. I know he tried in his own way to make me a stronger person...he planted seeds in my life...whether he knows it or not. Most importantly, God took the circumstances of my life & the people that ended up in my life, and made those seeds grow. 

     There's not much that scares me anymore...other than the safety of my kids & that's something I pray about daily! A few years ago, my third child, one of my girls, was at the dentist. It's the one thing that she's scared of (this girl is 15 and plays polo on horses, snowboards and competes in rodeo). She sat in the dentist chair waiting for the dentist.  She was white & grim-faced & barely seemed to breathe.  I tried to reassure her but it wasn't helping her. Then she held her own hands & started whispering to herself, "I am brave. I am brave. I am brave."  And she was; she is <3 font="">