Pride Goethe Before My Fall

Saturday morning up here on the Roan was busy with preparations for our annual Easter celebration. Family and friends were set to arrive at noon Sunday for Easter Dinner and a day of celebration.
 

Humming along, Tony was hosing down the winter's collection of, well...winter yuck off the back decking, picnic tables and lounge chairs. Berta and I were spiffing up the house and there was the other very important matter to tend to, getting Trig groomed and dressed out in his Easter outfit. All the activity around the place was rather chaotic.

We had guests coming who had never met my beloved horse, Trig, so naturally I wanted him to look his best. He, on the other hoof, could have cared less.
When informing him that someone was coming to professionally groom and 'decorate' him for the big occasion there was, as usual with my obstinate boy-child, much push back.

Trig: "Mom, I don't want to get gussied up for this Easter thing."
Me: "Trig, listen, there are special people coming who have never met you and I want them to see you at your most handsome."

"I really don't care, Mom. Your dressing me in some silly outfit or whatever should not make them like me any more or less. Please don't do this. It's just not natural."

"Now Trig, it won't take long and it is not going to hurt you to appease me. It will be fun to see the reaction from them seeing how adorable you are with all the pastel Easter colors all over you."

"The way I see it is somebody is going to be chopping on my hair and you know how I hate that. They are going to be pulling and yanking and who knows what all. Please tell me they are not going to chop off my whiskers!"

"Yes, Trig, you have to get a shave. Those whiskers are very unbecoming. They are long and stiff and they are prickly when I try to kiss you."

"Well, you need to stop kissing me on the lips; I don't think that's natural, Mom. Anyway. let me repeat...if you go this dress-up route I feel it's going to end up a total disaster."

"Oh for Heaven's sake, Trig! Stop being such a drama king! It will not be a disaster. I know what I am doing so gird your loins. It is going to happen. Period. End of conversation."

And Trig and I both retreat to opposite corners of the barn.
I, foolishly, thought I had won that battle.

He was groomed and the accompanying photo shows how stunning he looked. His mane was cut and woven beautifully with Easter pretties. His tail length was shortened a couple of inches where it had been dragging the ground and a stunning Avatar tail was plaited down to the ground. Woven in were matching Easter colors.

When the job was finished, I ooohed and awed, carrying on like a typical mom admiring her child in the perfect Easter dress with matching shoes. Trig's only comment? "Mom, I really feel this is not going to end so good."
"Oh hush Trig!"

As a treat for being so accommodating during the grooming process, I told my beloved horse I was going to let him graze in the bottom pasture, his favorite place. I told him to be careful and not mess up his Easter outfit; I wanted him to look just the same when everyone arrived the next day for the festivities.
When I went down at six that evening to lead Trig back to the barn, what I saw shocked me so much my knees nearly buckled. There he stood and I promise you... he looked like he had a slight grin on his muzzle.

"YOU JACKASS!", I screamed.

Along with mud on both cheeks and up on and in the right ear, his pretty little bow was missing from his forelock. His beautiful weave down his mane was totally disheveled and mostly unwoven with all of the Easter pretties gone!
That demon horse had dried mud all over one side as well as down his flank and leg of the other side. His tail was a matted mess. Only because the Avatar tail was braided down through the middle of his thick lush tail accounted for those decorations still being intact.
What a bloody mess!

It was obvious Trig had worked pretty darn hard to rub and roll off just the right places.

I snapped the lead rope under his halter and started to the barn at a fast clip. All the way up that man-child talked non-stop trying to weasel out of the mess he was in.

"Mom, now hold on a minute. Remember all that stuff you've told me over the past two weeks while you were grooming me every day? 'Member? You told me Easter is not about pretty clothes, Easter bunnies, colored egg hunts or eatin' too much.

Mom, do you recall telling me all that stuff? You said yourself Easter was about the Resurrection of the Savior Jesus Christ, our Savior. Huh, huh? Isn't that what you said, Mom?

You talked about how people forget that and how it made you feel so sad every year. I remember you said those things Mom. And then you wanted to make me look like an idiot so you could show off to your friends? Was that being a...what is that big word you taught me Mom? What is it, I forgot?"

I began to slow down my furious pace as I felt my face begin to burn.

Then the tears began to spill onto my cheeks.

"Hypocrite", I responded to my wise equine friend softly, humbled and embarrassed. "It's called being a hypocrite, Trig. And you are right. I need to ask you and my Poppa God both to forgive me for being the hypocritical one.

 I think I need to spend more time with Him today talking about my pride. And I would like humbly  to say thanks buddy for caring enough to hold me accountable."

When arriving at the barn, that horse I adore and I walked into the cool shadows, shoulder to shoulder; Trig with his head held high... mine, not so much.