One of my favorite pictures of my daughter Katie shows her looking up at a display housed in the Smithsonian’s natural history museum. In the background is a life-sized mannequin of an American Indian warrior standing next to a most beautiful pinto horse. In the foreground is 5-year-old Katie, standing before the scene and completely mesmerized.

It was winter, 1993, and my husband was temporarily assigned to work in the office of the Assistant Secretary of the Navy in charge of installations and the environment. A significant snowstorm had stilled the city and closed government offices for the day. We took full advantage of our surprise snow day and hopped onto the train, making our way inside the Beltway to the Mall and eventually to the museum — clumsily pushing our infant son’s stroller through half a foot of snow. Because we were among the very few to venture outside, we had most of the museum to ourselves. There were no crowds to maneuver around and keeping track of our three kids was easy. Museum docents gave us private tours as we feasted our eyes on the exhibits and we lingered whenever we wished.

When I look at the photo I recall our special snow day and eating soup with employees in the museum cafeteria. The photo also makes me smile because God was at work, hinting at times to come. He gave me an insight into Katie I can clearly see in retrospect but did not realize at the time: She would continue to adore horses in general, paints in particular, and daily incorporates them into her life in a big way.

Little did I know that I would, by the sheer fact of being her mom and the major financier of her childhood dreams, become a horse person in my own way.

This comes as a great surprise to those who know me best, for I have only sat myself in a saddle a dozen times in my life. Not only that, but I headed into the equine world kicking and screaming. Horses scared me at first. They seemed way too big and I worried that with no notice they would sense my fear and insecurities and take advantage of me. They might kick me, butt their heads into my face, step on my toes or run right over me.

Most of all I felt insecure around horse people, for Katie’s passion forced me to enter circles of people I did not know and with whom I could barely communicate. I went into this most expensive project knowing absolutely nothing but realizing I had better learn well and learn quickly.

It was especially daunting at first. I knew nothing about the various breeds and my eyes were not trained to detect lameness. I did not realize that horses move differently and riders can choose any number of ways to compete and train. I did not know that Western bits have no place in English showmanship competitions. I did not know that rain sheets come in different sizes and you might want to cover your horse if a winter coat fails to develop. I now know better.

What I did come to quickly realize is that horse people, bless them anyway, are a forceful, opinionated group. They have to be. You cannot be wimpy and own a horse, for you will get run over — one way or another. To survive I set my mind to learning. I made it abundantly clear that I knew nothing but did not intend to stay ignorant. When my daughter’s love of horses and desire to own and train one could not be ignored, I forced myself to face my own inadequacies and fears and press on, asking God to place knowledgeable people in my path and general discernment as my breastplate.

I did not expect to love horses but now I do. I did not think I could ever talk the talk, but I can — with increasing frequency. I did not see that my experiences as a horsy mom would not only bring great joy to my life but provide insight into how hard it is for people with no faith or spiritual histories to venture toward organized faith.

My experience in parenting a horse-crazed daughter models in some ways the experiences people have when they decide to check out a church or a religion. It is a topic that bears down on my heart, for God’s good news is meant for everyone. When organized faith intimidates and pushes people away, I lose sleep.

Let’s talk more about that next week.