Seeing in parts

I have a very old horse that doesn't winter over well. When I asked the vet to guestimate his age, she looked in his mouth (which is the best clue) and said, "Ancient." For the last five years at the onset of warmer, spring weather, I work at putting weight back on him and easing out his winter coat to encourage the shorter summer coat to come in. This process that takes months. And just when he's in top condition winter comes. This year was worse than ever. After some blood tests and assurance that his severe thinness was a nutritional matter and not an indication of organ failure, I reviewed his diet, again, and began on yet another aggressive new track. He's coming back nicely, but he's no show horse to be sure.

Last week, while I was grooming him after a day of being turned out in the pasture, I had a little revelation. Horses, unlike dogs and cats, are large animals. When they are being groomed, the groomer can only see one area at a time. When brushing his chest area one might think him a golden retriever by the length, color and softness of the hair. His mane and tail are lovely. His legs are handsome and tone. But there are other parts that are hard to see; bald patches where the long hair has fallen out all at once and the short coat is slow in coming in. The area around his eyes is dark and mostly hairless and his temples are deeply sunken, totally bald and scaley. Yet, his feet are good, he's very sound. When his weight is good, he's a wonderful horse to ride.

I decided to stop looking at the whole of him, instead celebrating the health and wholeness of each part of him where that was real and true. It seemed unfair to discount his strides of recovery by the parts that are not fully well yet. He is, in fact, more that the sum of his parts. Each part requires consideration - further care or a simple thanksgiving. To step back and view only the whole is sometimes too much to bear. It is too overwhelming. After all, when we began the build up three months ago, the only part to celebrate was the wellness of his feet - that he was sound and able to walk. How many more parts have now joined in this celebration of rebounding life!

This seems a better way to look at a lot of things in life. Sometimes learning to see accurately is not to strain to grasp the view of the whole, but to learn to see in parts. Those of us bent on seeking perfection know that it can never be found on a grand scale. But it just might occur in the small places; where the gaze is fixed on a frame of reference so narrow that one cannot tell a horse's coat from that of a dog. But what a soft and thick and wonderful patch of hair it is - regardless of who it belongs too!

This is especially useful in relationships. I find it difficult to look at my parent's life, or health, or happiness in terms of the whole. It threatens to tear my heart from its mooring. But when I am with them I celebrate the parts of them that are content, or healthy, or patient, or secure, or proud, or grounded, or otherwise well. There are enough dark eyes and bald patches that need care and attention; and they are not the whole story, only a part. So I chose to see in parts and celebrate that which speaks in terms of the quiet joy and wonder life, even while embedded in the least desireable circumstances and silent ponderings of 'Why?' Perhaps this is what God extends to us as grace, or perhaps just mercy.