Debbie Garcia-Bengochea - Mini Horse, Mighty Hope: How a Herd of Miniature Horses Provides Comfort and Healing

A moment can change everything. It happens in that snippet of time when you sit up and take notice. It happens in an instant that touches whatever comes before and transforms whatever comes after. There was such a moment when I realized miniature horses could change lives. That the beautiful spirit wrapped in flowing manes and pint-size hooves could touch hurting people and offer hope. And that moment came, literally, through an open door.

That humid morning in 1999, I stood on my neighbors sun-bleached lawn beside my husband, Jorge, and a miniature bay horse no higher than my waist. Mollys full, black mane ruffled in a stray breeze. Shed walked alongside us across our own little farma ranch-style house and barn on four acres outside of townalong the path beside the road, and up the neighbors driveway to the front of a tidy ranch house much like our own. There Molly waited, ears pricked to the side, head lowered and relaxed. At seven years old, she was young and spry, yet as mellow as a sunny summer afternoon.

Jorge tapped on the front door. Were here, he said.

Arthur, a tanned, older gentleman, came out to meet us. Im so grateful you could come, he said, glancing over at Molly and grinning. Mamas going to be so happy. He led us to the side of the house and pointed to the front corner. This is her window, here.

Earlier that week Id been at the kitchen counter, detailing a lesson plan for my elementary school students, when Arthur had called. We knew Arthur well enough to stop and chat if we happened to be outside at the same time, but for the most part our conversations had been limited to polite inquiries about the weather and each others health.

Hot today, Arthur had begun. Hows everyone feeling? Then hed paused and said, I, um, wonder if I might ask a favor? For Mama. I set down my pen and stepped away from the counter to focus on the request. I tried to picture our neighbors motherI knew the woman lived there but couldnt recall having met her.

Yes, anything. Name it, I answered.

You see, he continued, shes getting up there... and, well, the doctor said theyre doing all they can for her pain, but she could use something for her mind. Says we should try to get her involved, engaged in things. You see, she just lies there. His voice broke. The only thing Mama seems interested in at all, to tell the truth, is your horses. She watches through the window. She can see out to your pasture from her bed.

A warmth spread over me at the thought of this mans mother finding joy in observing our little horses roaming about the field. When they played, full of life, maybe they made the frail, bedridden woman feel young and full of life too. Perhaps they helped her in the same way they helped mehorses had always brought me solace.

When I was young, I often felt like I was the skinny new girl whose military family moved too often and who was unsure of the trendiest way to style her long blonde locks or the popular clothes to wear. But not around horses. Now, even though I wore makeup and stylish outfits to work, in the barn I could dress comfortably and pull my hair back into a ponytail. The horses didnt seem to mind. They made me feel loved and accepted, just as they did when I was young. Seeing their slow, peaceful grazing in a field made my heart feel peaceful as well. So I could understand how Arthurs mother might feel while watching the horses through her window.

I was just thinking... hoping... is there any way youd consider walking one of your horses past Mamas window? So she could see it... up close?

Of course we would. Such a small thing we could do to help.

So that morning Id stepped into the barn bright and early, and paused before the stalls, deciding which horse to bring. There was Sugar, the first horse Id ever owned. She was now a healthy and content old gal, but when we rescued her from the horse dealer shed been a thin white pony with dirty, shaggy fur and overgrown hooves. Jorge and I had taken one look at her and knew that shed be coming home with us. We understood the plight that awaited an unwanted old horse in her condition. The moment I met her, I had a clear picture in my mind: I could see her clean and healthy, surrounded by happy children who talked to her and patted her while she gently nuzzled them back. Maybe this animal in need could help some children in need. And later she did, as boys and girls from my class came over to spend time with her on the farm. While they patted and played with Sugar, I watched them relax and open up in a way I never saw in the classroom.

Then there was our miniature donkey, Bart, and two miniature horses, Molly and Misty. We found that, while some people may be intimidated by a large animal, most people felt secure with a miniature one. I chose Molly to visit Arthurs mom because she was so easygoing and cheerful. Also, her dark brown coat and flowing black mane would make her easier to see through the glass.