Dreams Come True Ranch

The best sunset in Texas

Twenty years ago, when we threw my mother a surprise 40th birthday party, my stepdad held up a small, clear glass jar that held Texas soil.  He said he appreciated this woman who believed in his dreams, and my parents used this event of family and friends gathered together to announce that they would be leaving Utah and moving to Texas, where they would buy a ranch and run the horse business they had been talking about and dreaming of for years.
We all thought they were nuts. 
And they did it anyways.
For the last eighteen years, my parents have lived in East Texas.  For most of those years, they have lived at Dreams Come True Ranch in Nacogdoches. 
It is the place we have held Wednesday night dinner since my children were itty bitty. 

It is the place my children learned to fish, ride horses, shoot turtles, and hunt for frogs. 
And snipes. 
It is the place that each of my children worked their first job. 
It is the place my children have always run away to when they needed to feel safe and loved and mom and dad were just too mean. 
It is the place that my nieces and nephews took their first horse rides. 
The place my nieces run through the water hose and connect their big blow up slide. 
It is the place where kids swim in the pond, dump each other off of boats, and sling mud until they all look like creatures from the deep.
It is the place children watch mares deliver their foals in the middle of the night. 
It is the place the chicks hatch and the ducks splash.
It is a place with dogs, rabbits, chickens, ducks, deer, horses, cats, frogs, toads, snakes, fish, turtles, nutria... I can't even name all the critters we have seen there.
It is the place the children help grandma plant a garden.
It is the place that we used to play baseball on spring evenings after dinner.  Grandpa was the umpire and a close call always went to the kids. 
It is the place my little sister had her wedding.
The place my sister brought her first born child home to.  And her second.
It is the place we watch the sunset on the porch after a family meal.
It is the place I watch the sunrise on my way to work; where I feel calm even in the midst of chaos.
It is the place I have run to for comfort, peace, safety and love for eighteen years.
It is the place of my parents' dreams.
Their hopes.
Their vision.
Their livelihood.
Their future.
Or maybe not.  Twenty years is a long time to live a dream, and, boy have they ever lived their dream.  They bought the ranch. Left everything they had behind.  Started a new life.  Raised champion race horses.  Bred champion race horses.   Won awards and accolades.  Had articles written about them in magazines.  Horses on billboards.  causing waves in the horse industry by cloning horses.  Having a horse inducted into the AQHA Hall of Fame. 
And now,  they talk about selling the ranch.  And there are tears in both of their eyes when they say it.  It is their dream.  It is their home.  And it is our home.
 I love the ranch.  I cry when I think of it being gone.  My siblings will cry.  Our children will cry.  Our home.  Our beautiful, beautiful home. 
I imagine my youngest daughter growing up without knowing this place.  It hurts my heart that she will not know this place.
But then I think.
This place is built on my parents' love.  On dreams, on hope, on strength and sheer will.  It is built by my parents.  And I think of this place without them.  And it loses its beauty.  And I know that my daughter will be perfectly happy and whole without this ranch. 
But she won't be fine without her grandparents.
And so I look forward with a joyful heart to a future where my parents are not tied to the land.  Where they can sleep and care for their bodies that have been beaten and scarred from this life.  Where they can travel and spend time with their grandchildren.  For my oldest children have been blessed beyond belief to know their love, and there are grandbabies and great-grandbabies to snuggle and love and cherish.
This morning, as I drove down the ranch road watching the sun rise, I realized how much I love this ranch.  But I love my parents more.  I need my parents more.  Selling this ranch will give us more of them.  Of their love.
When my parents sell the ranch, I will remind them to take a small, clear glass jar and fill it with soil from this home.  This time, it will not be soil for a dream they hope to find; it will be soil from the completed dream.  It will be the soil of Dreams Came True Ranch.

The first 11 grandkids having shenanigans.

Morning on the ranch