Tag: horses

About Caroline’s Purpose

The question I get asked the most is probably, “What is your book about?” I’ve always struggled to answer, but now, I can just share what’s written on the back cover:

“Caroline Davis, a sophomore in college, finds herself at a crossroads, suffocated by fear and anxiety. Everything she claimed to be or dreamed of becoming has been lost to her, including her faith in God.

When she meets Connor Taylor, Caroline finds that he is able to relate to her pain more than she would have thought possible.

With the help of Edison, an abused horse, Connor seeks to help Caroline learn to use her past as a stepping stone towards the future.

As her relationship with Connor grows, Caroline must make a choice to conquer her fear or to stay where she feels safe. Their relationship and her future hang in the balance.”

Remember it’s now available for preorder on Amazon and Barnes and Noble! The Kindle and Nook editions are available too.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Carolines-Purpose-Erica-Zaborac/dp/1611533929

Barnes and Noble: https://m.barnesandnoble.com/w/carolines-purpose-erica-zaborac/1138372131?ean=9781611533927

One of Me

You paint seas of purple skies,
designing every sunrise, sunset.
You place every sparkle in the starlit night,
yet, You made one of me.

You take each snow flake and crystal,
Structuring each one just so.
No two are alike, each are crafted,
Unique, yet, You made one of me.

You imagined the horse,
giving it strength, power, and beauty,
Fragility and grace in one being,
yet, You made one of me.

You filled the depths of the ocean,
With colors and creatures beyond
What can be seen, or believed,
yet, You made one of me.

You decorated the forests and plains,
With birds and their songs,
With beasts and their roars,
yet, You made one of me.

It’s so humbling, looking at creation,
looking at Your creativity at work,
to know the same God made me,
to know that You included me in Your plan.

You wrote my story, my purpose,
You crafted me, and shaped me.
And when I don’t feel good enough,
I look around, and remember,

You made one of me.

Home

They say home is where
Your heart is.
Maybe because it always
Goes with.

It stays in place,
Beating and pumping,
Keeping a rhythm,
Staying whole.

It’s doors and windows
Open, letting in other souls,
Places, and dreams
To hold.

But the wind blows,
And life changes,
Causing cracks and
Breaks to form.

But still, it goes on
Beating and pumping,
Though the new rhythm
Changed the song.

It has to move on, or
Move away, letting go,
Instead of holding on
To the pain.

Home is where the
Heart is, since it always
Stays. But home becomes
More than one place,

Found in the pieces
That are broken off,
That can’t come with-
Even though without them,

It’ll never be whole.

Someone Like Me

Someone like me—
deals with anxiety.
Caring too much for
what doesn’t matter.
And not enough for
what truly does.

Someone like me—
falls short over and over.
Never enough, never
brave, never perfect.
Failing, flailing,
hurting myself, and others.

Someone like me—
stutters and stumbles.
Struggling with the same
things, every single time.
Wondering if there will ever
be change. Or hope.

Someone like me—
is never understood by
those who surround me.
My thoughts, my dreams,
never match theirs,
dividing my heart in half.

Someone like me—
is unworthy, alone to
face the giants and fears.
Trembling, shaking, shattering,
instead of taking hold of the
stones in my hand.

Someone like me—
is hopeless, a lost cause.
Getting left behind in this life.
Deserving nothing but darkness,
shame, and guilt. The
results of my stupidity.

But Someone like Him—
Redefined my future, redefined
every lie I believe about
myself. With one display
of incomprehensible love—
His death on the cross.

Someone like Him,
has plans for me,
using my failures, my falls,
my anxiety— to create a
masterpiece I can’t see.
Or even start to understand.

Someone like Him,
loves even the most unlovable
pieces of my heart and soul.
Tearing down the walls,
the barrier of sin and hell,
so I can have a forever with Him.

Someone like Him,
With unending mercy and
relentless love, takes my
unworthiness, my guilt, my shame,
and all of the other lies I hold,
and breathes truth into my darkness—

Reaching me with unshakable kindness.
Holding me with unchanging patience.
Freeing me with unfailing grace.

And loving me, when no one should.

Old Friend

My oldest friend
Has never said a word to me,
But he’s the best speaker I know,
Once you’ve learned how to listen.

He’s heard every dream and heartache,
And caught every tear,
As it slid from my cheek and clung
To his coat, waiting to be absorbed.

He’s taught me more about dealing
With and living through pain,
Than anyone else could. Always
Making a lesson out of what he’s endured.

His heart is genuine, he holds no grudges.
Forgiving even those who cut him deep.
His soft muzzle nuzzling their palm,
Warm air blowing through their fingers.

He thinks he’s king, holding the herd in check.
Keeping an eye out for threats that exist,
And, for those that don’t.
But you can never be too safe.

He still runs and plays like a carefree colt,
Even though his muscles and joints tell the truth
Of the years that are catching up to him.
More days behind him than before.

Our time is shortened by each sunset,
Each passing season and star.
But for now, I’ll cling to his mane.
And listen to every word still unspoken,

Throwing in a few thoughts of my own,
Thanking him for everything he’s given.
Thanking him for everything he is and has been.

Thanking him
for all he was.

The only mane I can cling to now,
Is the small piece that I kept.
It smells like him, feels like him,
And listens to my heart break.

The sun sets and fades over the mountain,
Casting shadows over a fresh pile of dirt,
Tears now soak the ground, not his coat,
And time can’t be reversed.

But his soul will live on,
Even if his body can’t,
In the memories I cling to,
And always, always, in my heart.

Cidney’s Song

What makes a song
a song—
Something worth singing,
repeating—  
Worth sharing with others?

Sincerity.

He sings from within,
his eyes full of light,
When he sees,
When he hears,
His person, his place.

His melody holds strong,
His heart full of joy,
When he runs,
When he jumps,
His life, his love.

He writes the harmony,
His mind adjusting,
To his new role,
To his new lot,
His home, his forever.

What makes a song
a song—
Something worth singing,
Repeating—

Sincerity.
A story worth sharing.