Have you ever had an experience where time seemed to stop just for you? Where goosebumps prickled your skin and you just knew it was a special, spiritual moment? I had one of those moments not too long ago. Just two days before I carried the American flag, actually.
Let me start in the past.
Thirteen years ago, before I was friends with my best friend. Before I ever thought I’d have a horse or carry an American flag in a rodeo, before I even met my husband, a very special woman lost her life to breast cancer.
Her name was Karla Defoe. Anyone who knew her will tell you what a sweet, kind, amazing woman she was. I never knew her. Even though she was deeply involved in the rodeo, organizing the calf scramble in which I participated, and many other parts of the rodeo I’ve been attending since 5th grade, I have no memory of her.
But she lived and loved and left quite a legacy in the wake of her death. In particular, her youngest daughter and I became friends. A feat we attribute to Karla. It seems impossible that my friend Jaymie and I didn’t meet until our late twenties, but our paths just never crossed. Or if they did, there was nothing keeping those paths headed in the same direction long enough for a bond to form.
I believe, and Jaymie agrees, that we met when the timing became just right. When we had aged and matured and grown into the people we needed to be in order to be friends to each other. In previous versions of ourselves our strong opinions, brutal honesty, and deepest dreams would have been fuel for a contentious relationship. Instead, we met at a time when we could have our opinions but allow others the room to have their own. When our honesty, still not sugar-coated, was yielded with more kindness. When we no longer would be envious of our different lives, but instead admired them.
We didn’t even meet through horses or rodeo. We met through work, in healthcare.
So it’s with this information, this knowledge that we’ve unknowingly been in the orbits of one anothers lives that I share we believe Karla, Jaymie’s mother, had a hand in us finally coming together. Finally meeting and being in the right place with ourselves that we could start a friendship to last a lifetime.
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Two days before I was supposed to ride in the rodeo Jaymie drove the 5 by 10-foot flag out to the rodeo arena and I rode Annie over. The evenings are normally breezy, but that night gusts and fits of air whipped across the arena. Annie’s mane flipped up in the blustery wind, the announcer-booth canopy tipped over and a sponsor-poster tore free from its staples. Even the stands vibrated. I shook my head and gave a nervous giggle before we did a flag-free practice run around the arena.
Then, together, we unfurled the flag.
There was no gentle undulation of red, white, and blue. The flag was whipping straight out just standing there. Loping with it was like trying to run in waist-deep water. Every time I rounded the end of the arena, left the wind-block of the bleachers, the gust would hit the flag like a wall. I’d have to push the pole forward, push against the resistance. A 5 by 10-foot flag pushing against wind that was at least 20 miles per hour will test just how strong you are. I did a couple laps and we called it good. I wasn’t super thrilled with our practice run, but it would have to do and I prayed it wasn’t as windy on my night.
A few minutes later I stood at the window of Jaymie’s rig, talking about the upcoming night, about everything and nothing, the way friends do. She looked up behind me and squinted into the evening sky. I turned to look, expecting to see a crow. Instead I saw what I thought was a vulture. But as the bird cruised soundlessly 20 feet overhead, we realized it was a bald eagle, his brilliant white head contrasted against his dark body.
We both took note of the moment. I’ve boarded at that facility for over 5 years and never seen a bald eagle out there. We both said how special a moment it was. Jaymie left me to my chores and I moved about, emptying manure. The wind I had fought against only 30 minutes before had died. Only a few leaves fluttered on trees.
The wind, the eagle, the connection to the rodeo, I have no doubt Jaymie’s mom was there with us, testing me. Challenging me. Helping me know that I really can handle whatever happens in the arena. And the bald eagle, that beautiful emblem of freedom, was to make sure we didn’t miss her presence.
We didn’t.
All photos except the eagle photo & the friend photo are courtesy of Chris T. Sloan, to whom I’m permanently indebted for all her wonderful captures.