When Progress Isn't The Point

My 14-year-old daughter, Graesyn, amazes me every single day. Without even meaning to, she holds up a mirror to me.

She challenges me, teaches me, and quietly reminds me to be better—not only as her mother, but as a human being. Watching her, I often catch myself asking: Am I living in a way I’d want her to live? Do my choices reflect the values I hope she carries into the world?

I often catch myself asking: Am I living in a way I’d want her to live? Do my choices reflect the values I hope she carries into the world?

I started giving Graesyn riding lessons when she was seven, and since then we’ve kept up a steady rhythm of twice-weekly lessons.

Sporadically throughout, we’ve had to clarify when I was her mother and when I was her instructor, but generally, the lessons have been a joy. She loved sharing stories about her day as got started, and she thrived riding alongside my other students in group lessons. Unexpected Farm became not just my workplace, but her community.

Love beyond accomplishment

But over the past few months, something shifted. I began noticing a certain plateau in her riding—less spark, less curiosity, less effort. Lessons began to feel flat, as though we were circling the same ground without moving forward. As her teacher, it felt frustrating. I found myself repeating instructions, trying new approaches, yet seeing little change. And as her mother, it was even harder. I could sense her disinterest, and it rubbed against my own desire for growth, for forward motion. I reached a crossroads: I could keep pushing us both through lessons neither of us seemed to enjoy, or I could take a breath and ask the harder questions.

One afternoon, instead of pushing forward, I decided to ask her a simple but honest question: “What do you enjoy about working with horses?”

Most of all, she told me that she loved him deeply—and her love wasn’t tied to what he could do.

She looked surprised. At first, she struggled to answer. Then, slowly, she shared that it wasn’t about horses in general—it was about her horse, Macaroany.

She felt a sense of responsibility for him, even though others also cared for him. She worried about his advancing age and wondered how much longer he would be able to be ridden.

Most of all, she told me that she loved him deeply—and her love wasn’t tied to what he could do. She didn’t care if they ever mastered new dressage movements or jumped higher fences. She didn’t care how she compared to other riders. What mattered was simply him.

Listening to her, I realized how different her perspective was from mine at her age. At her age, I was consumed with achievement and comparison, but here was my daughter teaching me something it took me decades to learn: that love doesn’t need to be tied to accomplishment.

But here was my daughter teaching me something it took me decades to learn: that love doesn’t need to be tied to accomplishment.

I reassured her, just as I do with all my students, that I have no attachment to what she does with horses. Her goals are hers alone, and my job is only to support her journey. Then I asked her how she wanted to move forward. After a pause, she said she wanted to play with Macaroany on her own, once a week—sometimes on the ground, sometimes in the saddle—simply enjoying her time with him.

My heart swelled. What more could I want, as her mother or as a fellow horse lover, than for her to find joy in her own way?

Profound Lessons from Horses and Children

That conversation opened the door to something even deeper. Graesyn shared how much she admires horses as individuals, how she values their kind and willing nature, and how she loves watching the quiet intelligence behind their eyes. She realized that even if she stopped riding one day, she would carry with her a unique understanding of how horses think and learn—something that would shape every interaction she had with them and with other living things.

As her mother and her teacher, I couldn’t have been prouder. That perspective—the ability to observe, to appreciate, to honor the gift that horses offer simply by being—is exactly what I hope to give every student.

At the end of our talk, I slipped back into “mom mode” and pointed out how happy she looked. She smiled and admitted she felt lighter—that having clarity made her happy. I told her I felt the same. The moment gave me permission to release my own expectations and simply watch her love her horse in the way that feels right for her.

I also shared with her one of my biggest lessons in life: the importance of integrity. When your choices line up with your values and desires, there’s a deep ease that follows. When they don’t, discomfort arises—and that discomfort is simply a signal. It’s not something to fear, but something to listen to. And sometimes, leaning into a little temporary discomfort—a hard question, a tough conversation—leads to relief, joy, and deeper connection.

That afternoon with Graesyn was just that: a small discomfort that blossomed into clarity, love, and connection. Horses teach us so much, but sometimes, if we are willing to listen, our children teach us even more.

Sharing the Horse/Human Connection: Winter Working Student Opportunity in Florida

Horses have an incredible way of teaching us about love, patience, and understanding—lessons that often resonate far beyond the stables.

Listening to Graesyn speak about the love and connection she holds with with her horse, Macaroany, and her growing perspective about horses in general, reminded me how deeply meaningful it is to care for and learn from these animals.

This experience of growth and connection is what inspires me to share the benefits of the human/horse bond with others.

I’m currently looking to fill a working student position for the winter season in Florida. This is a fantastic opportunity to:

• Be hands-on caring for 7-9 horses daily

• Gain invaluable skills

• Be part of an exciting winter season in a beautiful setting

This role also includes the option to bring your own horse along, making it an even more personalized and enriching experience.

If you're eager to learn, grow, and connect with horses in a meaningful way (or you know someone who does!!), send me an email to let me know you're interested. I’d love to hear from you.