Nine months down the line and I once again found myself in the position where I had more kids to teach than ponies they could ride. Both Stardust and Thunder were starting to look burned out again, and I frequently had to rope Arwen in for lessons (she was not popular; apparently super-fit event ponies do not make awesome schoolies…). When Bruno was sold, my lesson situation went from just making it to somewhat dire and something had to be done.

This time I had a little cash on hand from the sale, but I knew we’d barely broken even on Bruno and his money had to stretch really far. It’s amazing how expensive the dentist gets when it goes from four horses to twenty-four… Either way, I put up a wanted ad and started shopping. We spent an exhausting morning in Pretoria trying ponies that were so almost perfect, but just… not quite. Then one of the yards right here in Heidelberg put up an advert for one of their schoolies. I gave it a cursory glance and decided to go have a look, mostly just because it was close by. The pony was smaller and older than I wanted, but I was getting desperate. As always, it’s at this point that God stepped in – right where desperation meets necessity.

I tried the pony. It was adorable, but violently spooky and well into its teens. Driving away, I knew the sensible decision would be to say thanks but no thanks. I’d seen better ponies in Pretoria. And yet… something kept me from making that call. There was just something about her that I couldn’t ignore and I didn’t really know what it was. A vibe, a gut feeling. She just felt quiet and gentle even though she hadn’t acted like it. Honestly, though, I believe that feeling wasn’t all about the pony. The other ponies had been quieter, but they hadn’t had the irresistible attraction that this one did. I texted the owner and asked if I could view her again.

The endlessly patient seller agreed to let me ride the pony again, so I arrived, not totally clear on why exactly I was doing this, and remounted the pony. She started to nap near the corner she’d spooked at last time and overjumped a little cross extravagantly, but her rhythm was excellent. She had that I’ll-do-this-all-day, stuck-to-the-track patience of a real riding school pony. She was also sound – sound as a brass bell, healthy as could be despite her age. And adorable, obviously used to children, easy to tack up and handle, and thoroughly experienced. But I was still kind of undecided about the whole thing given the spookiness. What kind of a yard manager buys a spooky schoolie?

Eventually, I couldn’t resist the pull anymore. Nothing else felt right. So I threw up my hands. “Lord, as Thou wilt.” We bought the pony. The poor little soul was shunted straight into my lesson program the next day and became an instant hit. Kids started to fight over who got to ride her, whether they were tiny tots or already jumping. That weekend, I put her and Stardust in the horsebox and shipped them off to do pony rides. It was at the back of the feed shop, with a busy road next door and vehicles coming in and out to be noisily loaded; at one stage an enormous trailer drove in and started to offload 5000l tanks with a tremendous racket.

The new pony was unbothered by the traffic, unphased by the vehicles, and merely walked a circle around me at the offloading of the tanks. She didn’t spook. Not even once. I could almost hear God saying, “Do you trust Me now, daughter?”

She came with the name Lulu, and remains Lulu to friends. But I named her Lullaby, because like the song*, she’s become a reminder of True Love.

* WARNING – mild profanity in the song. Sorry about that, but its message makes it worth the listen.