"When the Trail Don’t Let Up”

“When the Trail Don’t Let Up”

These last few weeks have felt like riding through a storm that just won’t quit. Since my last post, life’s been throwing more than its share of hard hits.  

One of my friends had a stroke right after Christmas. When I called him that first night, his words were slurred and he couldn’t use his right side. They had him laid up in bed. But in true Dell fashion, he was more worried about something at the church than he was about himself. That’s the kind of man he is — thinking about the work before the wound.  

A week later, I called again. He sounded better. Walking some. Talking clearer. They’ve got him in a little suite with a kitchen — no food, though, so he couldn’t invite the nurses over for a party. That’s Dell’s humor shining through the hurt.  

And while that was happening, my little Serena ended up in the hospital with kidney trouble. Another weight on the saddle horn.  

Meanwhile, my own right hand is giving out on me. Fingers stiff, grip fading. I keep squeezing it, trying to get it to move, but it’s like the trail dust has settled in the joints.  

Deb’s been fighting her own battle — belly trouble from eating more than her pouch can handle. She’s on a liquid diet now, trying to tighten things back up. She’s doing alright so far, but it’s been a rough stretch for her too.  

It’s been a long two or three weeks. Hard to even count the days when they all feel the same.  

But here’s the truth a cowboy learns the long way around:  

Some folks don’t get the easy trail. Some of us are built to ride hurt.  

Not because we’re stronger — but because life never gave us another choice.  

We’re the ones who keep going when the body says stop.  

We’re the ones who check on others even when our own hands don’t work right.  

We’re the ones who carry the load without asking for applause.  

And most of the time, nobody notices.  

But God does.  

“He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.” — Isaiah 40:29  

That verse hits home when you’re running on fumes and still pushing forward. It reminds a man that even when the world overlooks him, Heaven doesn’t.  

So I’ll keep riding — hurt hand, tired bones, heavy heart — because that’s what a man does when the trail don’t let up.  

But I ride knowing this:  

God sees every mile I’ve carried without complaint, and He rides with me through every storm.