The Third Stall

The Book of Ron · 48 of 48 · 4 minute read

Several years ago I found a portrait or a drawing, a photograph of a horse. Underneath it was a true story.

This horse was born in a mineshaft. I’m not certain what kind of mineshaft, that’s irrelevant.

But in the photograph he’s pulling an ore cart. It’s heavy. You can see every muscle in his body straining to move that cart forward, to get it to move.

All day long he pulls this ore cart. That’s his job. It’s where the Lord placed him. It is his lot in life.

He doesn’t object to that. He looks forward to it. It’s what he knows.

He’s blind. He’s never seen daylight. All he knows is candlelight, dimly lit corridors. But he does his job without complaint.

This horse is symbolic of what my life is. I relate to this horse dramatically.

In my mind I’ve always seen three stalls at night when I’m praying.

I watch him go down the corridor as he gets unhooked from the harness, and he turns left and walks down, tired, ready to rest for the day.

He comes to the first stall. That stall has straw, but it’s full of manure. The oats are old and stale. The water is somewhat stagnant.

But he goes in, and he goes to sleep.

The next day he gets up and goes back and does his job again without complaint.

The second evening he turns the corridor and goes down to the second stall.

In that stall there is fresh straw, clean oats, and fresh water. He gets to go in there and sleep that night.

The next day he gets up and goes back to the job.

The third night he turns the corner and he’s met by this beautiful woman who takes him by the halter and strokes his nose and tells him how proud she is of how hard he worked, about how she adores him and loves him.

She leads him down the hallway, gives him an apple on the way, takes him into the stall, caresses him, cleans his hooves, pets him, compliments him, just encourages him all the time, puts a blanket over his back, does everything she can to care for him.

And he gets to go to sleep with clean straw and clean oats and the memory and the thoughts of knowing that he is loved and cherished.

In my life I’ve experienced the first stall.

Twenty years of marriage with Cheryl, I was blessed that I had the second stall. I came home to security, fidelity, a clean home, and a well-cooked meal.

But somehow we never were able to bridge the gap that allowed us to express our love for each other the way I truly wanted for both of us.

The line in the sand was drawn. The defiance was evident.

And it became impossible to experience what we could have blessed each other with.

It’s unfortunate.

It is my hope that through this book — the proverbs, the wisdom, the nuggets — that you would be able to move from the second stall to the third stall.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a horse, a donkey, a pony, or a mule, a rabbit, or a chicken laying eggs.

Whatever your lot in life is, it is my greatest hope and prayer that both of you can move and that each other experience the joy of living in the third stall.

I know we are all capable of that. The Holy Spirit lives inside of me. I know I desire that. I desire it for Cheryl as well as for myself.

I often think about Christopher Reeve and his wife, how they shared those moments together even though he was paralyzed from the neck down. When I saw interviews with him, it was so obvious that she loved him and cared for him.

How we do that is for each one of us to listen to each other and understand the needs of the horse, the donkey, the mule, the pony, or the chicken.

What are they requesting?

Then lay that at the altar. Ask for God’s wisdom, the ability, and the desire to perform those tasks. Hook yourself to the harness and pull the load for each other.