Well, friends the life/writing balance really took a hit in the month of October! Between a fall break filled with fun activities and a week of conferences and the travel that comes with it, there wasn’t much time for writing! I did finish, Alongside by Drew Hill and encourage parents, teachers, and anyone who works with youth to pick up a copy and read through Drew’s experiences and ideas!

Most of what I’ve learned, comes from showing horses

Growing up showing horses, I learned a lot of skills. The skill of mucking out a stall, regardless if the temperature is below zero or blazing over 100. I mastered the skill of filling water buckets, even when the handle of the bucket would weigh so heavy on my hand, my fingers would turn purple. Then, of course, the skills associated with riding. It’s more than just sitting up there and hanging on, all though that serves a critical role. Yet, none of those skills serve me in my day-to-day living on there own merit.

Mucking stalls year-round in Kentucky builds your character. Focusing on the well-being of someone or something outside of yourself decenters us from the selfish tendancies of our hearts. Carrying water buckets one at a time when others could carry one in each hand built persistence. Difficulty does not justify giving up. Yet, even still those socially desirable lessons of work ethic did not impact the me I am today to the same degree as a few walks to and from the barn.

Mid-summer horse shows in Kentucky share a similar characteristic…hot. The temperature never fails to scorch and the humidity hovers at a point you consider putting on a snorkle to swim as you walk outside. Each summer, we attended a show which held a special place in my heart. One, it served as the big show of the circuit with the biggest prizes and toughest competition. Second, the show was hosted on the same property I truly fell in love with horses. The first place other people who love horses saw me and welcomed me into the fold.

Taking a Walk Changed How I Viewed Me

As usual, my dad stood next to me at the show (I was sitting on my horse). His way of encouraging me included letting me know how I had it in me to beat the competition in the ring. He never did it in a disparaging way to the competition, instead comments about my abilities and training. In my mind though, I didn’t believe him. You could tell I didn’t believe him in the show pen. It didn’t go well. I don’t remember my score or placing, but I do remember walking out of the arena on my horse with tears welling up in my eyes. My horse and I continued walking around the property reeling in my feelings. I did not want to talk to anyone. My disappointment in myself coupled with the presumptive shame from my dad and my trainer pushed me into isolation. But instead, I heard the classic sound of a horse loping up behind me. I turned around to see my trainer gaining ground. Quickly, I turned around and tried my best to dry the tears from my cheeks and get it together. He was far from fooled.

He walked with me throughout the property. We talked through my run – he asked me questions, let me answer. I knew what didn’t work. I knew what went well (not much). Then he asked me the question I did not want to answer, the hard question he didn’t want to ask. What led to this reaction? I balled, again and poured my heart out about feeling like a failure and not being enough. I wish I remembered how he responded. But, as a mid-20’s guy, I don’t remember it being poetic. He did speak truth into my life, if he knew it or not, my identity and worth would not be determined by a score. It wasn’t the words anyway, it was the time and the walk. And the reminder, tomorrow would be a new day (I won the next day)!

In Alongside by Drew Hill he states the value of “giving teenagers space to wrestle and time to heal.”

Walking Into Trust

Not much longer than a year later, my dad walked over to the barn with me. It wasn’t unusual for us to go to the barn together for afternoon chores. Our barn was a short walk from the house, but this day it felt much longer. I could feel the pressure of a hard conversation as we walked out of the house. Come to find, a teacher at school overheard a conversation I had with a classmate about running away. Neither she nor I were serious about the act of running away, it was more a metaphorical conversation teenagers share when the desire for adulthood and freedom seems so tempting. Nonetheless, the concerned teacher didn’t think we were talking about our futures, and instead told our parents.

As we walked, dad let me know what the teacher had told him and how much pain that would cause him and mom if I were to follow through on the “plan.” I then explained the context of the conversation and ultimately how at this point, I didn’t feel trusted by my parents when I didn’t see a reason not to trust me. (Looking back, I know the reason… I was a 17 year-old girl who thought she knew everything.) The walk to the barn ended in hugs, tears, and promises to talk more and try harder on both sides.

Let’s Go for a Walk

Going for a walk seems so simple. On our campus, it really is simple. The campus is beautiful, the sidewalks are wide, and the full loop only takes a few minutes. Yet, I find myself in my office grading papers or answering emails or working on projects. Are those components of my job? Certainly. Do I have to do them from 9:15-9:30 when students are walking between classes? No. Our school buildings have hallways and kids walk through them daily, some feeling alone and desiring someone to ask a simple question.

Recently, someone asked if I could meet them for coffee and I countered with a walking session instead. Walking together, slowly, and listening to the heart and mind of a young adult wrestle with the in’s and out’s of serving others well refreshed both of us more than caffiene could. In three laps of our campus (which equates to just over a mile) and twenty-five minutes we talked about simple joys and hard struggles, all while on the move.

Drew Hill cites a statistic that Jesus walked 15,000 miles in his lifetime. So many of the Gospel stories we read center around Jesus, walking somewhere and along the way he meets someone. These “someones” typically aren’t in a great position – instead they are in need of a Savior. And Jesus, instead of saying, “I’m what you need – change (fill in the blank)”, often asks a question such as “what can I do for you?”

Stories of Jesus seem to often include him walking somewhere and along the way, he meets someone.

As I think about walks I’ve been on more keep flooding to my mind. People who physically walked beside me in prayer during stressful situations. Mom, walking me into the church on my wedding day; dad walking me down the aisle. My husband and I walk often and talk out the day-to-day process of intentionally living in our community and caring for our people. Co-workers who walk the loop as we coordinate efforts to serve students who struggle more than most. At the college I graduate from with my Bachelor’s, we walked and greeted our professors with their first-name, and indication of our transformation from students to peers. Coming alongside others, in whatever way you can, even in the most literal and physical sense of the concept, can serve the people – the students – you care about.

I look at the culture of education and see such a heavy cloud over the heads of most teachers. Concerns about students, funding, retirements, community opinion all weighing over them. The level of doom in some states or districts seems toxic. While I don’t think a walk will cure all of our educational woes, I do see how talking a walk could show care to our co-workers and in showing care, we remember we aren’t alone.

How powerful to do the same for our students?

Read more of the Alongside Series Here and Here and Here

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To read Alongside – grab it here