Pounding in my heart

I’ve had a few tough days recently. Nothing really about work, though I am praying for a quiet end to a very messy job that’s been on our books for months now. It’s more about a struggle I have with myself, and how I let it be that I don’t ever see my own friends. I have very limited free time and I thought that I had all my priorities straight, but I’ve found that I go months and months without seeing my friends. The biggest part of this equation is the volunteer work that I do at the horse rescue. It is the reason that my weekends are practically non-existent.

The question always lingered in the back of my mind, “How much longer can I actually keep this up?” and I’ve avoided answering it, for so long, because I love the horses. I love the honest work I do there and most of all, I love the appreciation I was receiving. WAS receiving, yes, you read that right. There are new ‘interns’ at the ranch (of which I do not know the meaning in this case, probably just means protégé). They started a few months ago as volunteers, just like the rest of us. However, they are able to come to the ranch more often than any of us are- because they don’t work full time, and they both live at home with their parents. Since it was announced that they were ‘interns’, the owner of the ranch has become biased. All the glory and praise goes to the ‘interns’ and all of us regular ol' volunteers get pooped on. Mind you, the ‘interns’ only started a few months ago.

It was not long after the ‘interns’ became ‘interns’, that I had to clean out two horse stalls myself, while the girl ‘intern’ just stood and watched. She was too scared to go into these two stalls with the animals, even after I told her it would be fine. “I’d rather not,” she said. So I said, “Fine, then hold the wheelbarrow for me” (While I throw poop towards it- LOOKOUT!).

There were many incidents where the owner went on and on about how great her ‘interns’ were, in a way that both offended and angered all of us volunteers. Then last Saturday, as all of us were cleaning every stall on the property, the boy ‘intern’ sat on his computer fixing the website for the ranch. One of the volunteers (who’s been doing this for 3 years now) went into the barn to grab some water. The owner of the ranch was in the barn with the computer nerd, and asked who was out cleaning the stalls. Old volunteer replied, “All of us. Myself and the other 4 girls.” The ranch owner then replied, “So girl ‘intern’ is down there, too? Good, at least there’s somebody to take the lead”. This was moments before girl ‘intern’ was yet again, scared to go into one of the stalls and Old volunteer actually did it for her. Probably wishing she could call the owner down to witness, then make her swallow her words.

While this was going on, I was cleaning the wild Zebra stall out with another volunteer. It was fantastic to be in the stall with the wild herd, ears and eyes alert, just watching us. We were one on one (or two on six) with one of the coolest animals in the animal kingdom. We picked up all the manure and then filled their water buckets to the brim, it was a hot day and the other volunteer and I took turns drinking out of the hose, while the buckets filled up. When we were done, we walked back towards the door and the zebras darted to the opposite side of their stall, as their hooves pounded the earth you could feel it in your heart. We all sat outside that zebra stall in the shade of a tree, all 5 volunteers and the ‘intern’. I watched as the zebras lined up at their water buckets to drink, just as school kids would line up in front of the drinking fountain. I smiled and pointed it out to the volunteer who had helped me clean, she felt the same way I did- the zebras were thankful for the fresh, cold water we had given them.

Tears are coming to my eyes as I am relating this story. I hate to think that I may have to leave this kind of happiness behind permanently and prematurely because of the way things have changed. I can’t believe that the owner could be so blind as to think that her precious ‘interns’ are suddenly worth so much more than her volunteers that have been coming for years now.

Even if there weren’t sourness at the ranch, my time there would still have to end eventually. I can’t sustain my schedule and friendships the way that they are now. Overtime, the volunteer work became an obligation to be there every weekend I had free. It didn’t bother me too much at first, but it began to wear on me as friends slipped away and my to-do list became the stuff I scrambled through on workdays, always leaving one or two uncompleted items. The decision would be easy, if I could just go every-other weekend. But now I fear that it would not be enough for the owner, and my importance would slip, way below the point it has fallen to already. I wish I could go back to the way things were when the owner was always so happy with all of us. I always loved my time at the ranch- and would love it still, if I could make it work.

Already this month, I have missed two weeks in a row, and had to leave early last weekend because I had other plans. This Saturday I have a friend’s baby shower at noon, so I wouldn’t be able to make it at all. Maybe this is the test to see if I can continue volunteering, or if my more infrequent visits would create problems with the owner.

Needless to say, I have been going around in my head about this for weeks. It’s a tough thing to think about and I wish the answer were clear and easy.