11/09/2025
Saying goodbye to Jesse...
Jesse was our anchor, our barn statesman. He was the first horse I felt deeply connected with, though I will always remember Casper and Simon, who were the first horses I worked with when I began my journey with Natural Lifemanship training several years ago. Each horse has allowed me to learn more about deeper connection, and each one is special in unique ways.
With our small herd of four at Dusty Boots Barn, Jesse was always the first to introduce himself to clients, so he also had a special place in the hearts of our clients. The barn was Jesseâs actual home. He and the Steen family so graciously allowed us to share their space and do our Equine Assisted Psychotherapy work when our other location closed its doors to us, and we quickly needed a place to land. They shared Jesse with us and allowed him to engage in our work with us, and we will always be so grateful that they made their barn feel like home to us.
Jesse was, in fact, so important to us that when our business finally came up with a name and logo we all liked, we asked the artist to create the logo with Jesseâs likeness, in honor of him (See photo below). Little did we know we would lose him in just a few months, so we are so glad he is our business mascot.
When the decision came down that we would have to say goodbye to Jesse, it felt like more than a punch in the gut. It may sound silly to others, but it is the kind of loss that stirs heartache from other losses. It frightened me to feel another âanchorâ being torn from me. Ultimately, God is my anchor. He is the Rock on which I stand and that keeps me standing. But there are times when people, and yes, a horse can stand in for God and be Jesus with skin on for me. Jesse was this type of anchor for me. He was strong, safe, loving, attentive; not perfectly, of course. None of us connects perfectly. Only Jesus does that.
The loss also brought shadows of memories from other times in my life when I felt powerless and heartbroken. When you build a relationship with someone elseâs horse or animal, you donât get to weigh in on the decisions being made. Maybe some of the small decisions, but certainly not the larger, existential ones. We knew the day would come when we would have to say goodbye to Jesse; he had been struggling with some things. We just didnât think it would be so soon.
It's been about three weeks since I said goodbye to Jesse, and this is the first time that I can write more than a sentence or two about it. The barn feels different without him, of course. I miss my anchor and statesman desperately. The horses are starting to look like they are adjusting to Jesse not being there. His buddy Parker seemed so lost, and it was deeply sad to see him looking for Jesse in the stalls and arena. But even Parker is starting to look like he is adjusting. I am trying to adjust, too.
Is adjusting even the right word? I honestly donât know. Maybe accepting what we know cannot be different, with parts of us still longing for what we cannot have? Yes, I want Jesse back. But it isnât possible, so we hold multiple emotions and share our thoughts and memories. We remember why we are there and keep spending time and connecting with the rest of the herd to help them grieve and know they are loved.
Letting go of one we love and accepting what we cannot change is so hard. It's been challenging for clients too, but it is part of life and we are all dealing with it the best we can, growing, and valuing who and what we still have with us.
I canât really say yet what Jesse taught me. Except maybe I can say thisâŚall three of these horses have been a strong, but gentle, and especially safe, male presence for me. I have had many experiences where men were not safe, and Jesse, Simon, and Casper were transformational relationships for me. I am forever grateful for their steady and anchoring presence in my life. I miss you, sweet Jesse.
