Small miracles, every day
By Steve Myrick
Published: September 4, 2008
Sam Fetters is excited. The four-year-old boy quite cheerfully progresses through the steps the volunteers from Rising Tide, a therapeutic riding program for disabled children, outline for him. They are preparing him to ride Deborah, a well-natured draft horse mare. All is going well, until step three. Step three is actually getting on the horse.
"No thank you," Sam says politely, while, also quite cheerfully, volunteering his twin brother John to go first. Neither has ever ridden a horse.
Outside the paddock, John is far less cheerful. He seems unsure, and afraid. A little dog walks up for a friendly sniff, but this frightens John, and he becomes increasingly agitated.
With the help of his mother Kim Leaird, his aunt Katy Leaird, and Rising Tide instructor Chris Arenberg, John is hoisted into the saddle, protesting all the way.
Deborah ambles around the walking ring, not perturbed in the least about the frightened little boy on her back, and the various adults trying to calm his fears. For four slow trips around the ring, John squirms, cries, and tugs at his riding helmet. On the fifth turn around, the crying begins to ease. On the eighth turn, a genuine smile breaks out on John's face.
"He stopped crying," said his brother Sam, who by this time has reconsidered step three, and is eager for his own turn.
The twins' beaming grandmother confides that Sam told her he was going to have horses in his dreams. "Tomorrow they'll do hurdles," she says with a grin.
Miracles small and big like this play out every day at Rising Tide in West Tisbury. The organization depends on the generosity of donors, like more than 100 people who came to the program's annual fundraising party at the Grange Hall in West Tisbury on August 28. Patrons bid on dozens of auction items, and watched a film about some of the children who have gained confidence and physical skills at Rising Tide. Even the experts can't seem to explain the bond that happens between disabled children and horses. It may be the rhythm of a horse's gait, it may be non-verbal communication, or it may be a miracle.
"The first time I came it brought tears to my eyes," said Ms. Arenberg, who is working toward advanced certification as a therapeutic riding instructor. "The horses just seem to know. The kids, it's like a natural bond."
Photo by Steve Myrick
Photo by Steve Myrick
Photo by Lynn Christoffers
Photo by Lynn Christoffers
Photo by Lynn Christoffers
