In which I Liken Myself to a Horse

As I grew up on a ranch, I was surrounded by a wide array of animals from my birth. Besides the cattle by which we made our living, there was a steady stream of cats, dogs, sheep for training the dogs, a brief interlude with a pig, a much longer interlude with a goat, and a variety of ponies and horses. Among the horses were two large work horses, both half Belgian as I recall, both mares, and they always seem to stick out in my memory. A whole variety of stories surround these mares, and my father would be happy to tell them sometime; but for me, a two word sentence summarizes my memories: "Walk, girls!"

Our draft mares liked to trot. The reason for this was that, once they had begun to pull whatever load was behind them, they could create a certain amount of momentum by trotting. Then, as long as they could maintain their momentum, they really had to pull very little of the load. To trot made their work easier. For rider and driver, though, it was often unpleasant. Large hay wagons are not designed for trotting horses. They have no seats and no seat belts. The ground over which the horses pull the wagons is rough. As a result, the constant refrain of my father was, "Walk, girls!"

This image came to me recently after I had been speed reading through the Psalms of the Liturgy of the Hours. At the end I realized that I had simply been operating on momentum, so to speak, and failing to really do my work. A lot of people have asked for my prayers. Had I even thought of them? A lot of people are suffering. Had I given them any mention? The Church needs my prayers. Had I actually prayed? I did the office again, much more slowly this time.

The Liturgy of the Hours is, in a way, like a yoke for those who have promised to pray it. The yoke rests on the shoulders of work animals, and is an important piece of equipment inasmuch as it is the means by which an animal carries a load. My yoke, too, draws a burden behind it. In late May, when Deacon Gregory was ordained, his bishop remarked that it was by the Liturgy of the Hours that he would pray for all those who had asked for his prayers and for those for whom he had promised to pray. How true this remark was. I usually pray the Liturgy of the Hours with this thought in mind, but sometimes I realize that I am giving less than they deserve. Unlike the horses of my childhood, I don't have the option of pulling my burden by means of momentum. While it may work for horses pulling a wagon full of hay, if I trot through the Liturgy of the Hours, I will have failed to bear the load at all.