It was a warm morning when I first drove up the long, picturesque driveway of the most breathtaking equine facility I had ever seen. To my left, an expansive, well-manicured arena stretched under the early sun; to my right, a charming guest house invited curiosity. I sat at the base of the driveway, waiting for my training to begin—unaware that I was about to step into the most transformative season of my life.

I had just enrolled in an Equine-Assisted Psychotherapy training, eager to learn how to integrate traditional therapy with the wisdom of a herd. The EAGALA modality challenged me in ways I never expected, forcing deep reflection. Night after night, I drove home with tears streaming down my face, moved by the stories I encountered. One such story belonged to Caesar—a remarkable horse from Texas—and his handler, who had traveled here to bring healing to incarcerated youth. Stories like theirs surfaced all week, each one a testament to the profound impact of this work.

That week, I found myself at a crossroads. I prayed for clarity, asking for guidance on how to use this newfound passion. Soon after, I joined a local program, immersing myself in the work for five years under the mentorship of extraordinary professionals. I fell in love with the military service members I worked alongside, the couples seeking reconnection, and the first responders who carried unseen burdens. Without realizing it, I was healing a part of myself I had long ignored.

In the heart of this journey stood the horses. One, with piercing blue eyes and a mischievous spirit, pushed every boundary yet sought connection in the most profound ways. Another, a retired service horse, was a quiet force—steady, dependable, and intuitive. I watched as he formed an unbreakable bond with a military client, guiding him through obstacles in ways words never could.

Then, on a cold winter’s night, everything shifted. As I reflected on my work, memories of my childhood horse came rushing back—the one I lost too soon, the one I vowed never to replace. The grief I had buried surfaced with a force I couldn’t ignore. That night, I pulled over, tears streaming down my face, and allowed myself to feel the weight of it all.

From that moment, my relationship with one particular horse deepened. I lingered in the barn longer, took more walks, and eventually, set up my writing space in his stall. As I worked on my dissertation, I explored a question that had taken root in my heart: Do other therapists experience the same profound healing in this work? The answer, discovered over two years of research, was a resounding yes. It wasn’t just the clients who transformed—it was the therapists, too.

Today, as I look at the sweet, old soul who has walked this journey with me, I think of the countless lives he has touched. He has taught resilience, trust, and the courage to heal—not just to clients, but to me as well. Rocky, my heart horse, has reminded me that it is safe to love again, to trust the process, and to embrace the unknown.

Launching Reins of Valor was never part of my original plan, but when the calling came, I knew I had to take the leap. It required faith, courage, and a willingness to step into the unknown. If you are searching for purpose, for a place where healing and connection intersect, listen to that still, small voice within you. It may sound like your own thoughts, but it carries wisdom, goodness, and trust.

Won’t you join me on this journey of discovery? The path is waiting. The horses are ready. And so are you.