The Barn That Built Me

One of my favorite songs is “The House That Built Me” by Miranda Lambert.

? You leave home, you move on and you do the best you can. I got lost in this whole world and forgot who I am. ?

The melancholy melody always hits me, but in a different way. The three homes I lived in growing up were insignificant. It was in the barn that built me.

When I walk into that barn, the sweet scent of alfalfa and dust motes swirling in the sunlight spark nostalgia. It's where I started my first job at 13, leading ponies around at birthday parties and events. I remember laughing with my friends as we cleaned tack and mucked stalls. I recall how it felt to touch the soft muzzle of my 6-year-old Quarter Horse before we had to bury him beneath the birch trees and the soft nickers of a newborn foal in the spring. It was my safe haven in my teen years, when best friends could become enemies overnight and felt lost in figuring out my future.

Looking back, so many of the skills I have today were built in that barn.

A work ethic strengthened by a long day of work — pitching hay bales, carrying water buckets, and scrubbing down fussy ponies. Grit fueled by my passion and perseverance even when I had a bad ride. Empathy as I worked with rescued ponies that feared humans. Assertiveness and communication — required if you're going to work with a 700-pound animal. Creative resourcefulness and problem solving, which typically involved bailing twine. And humor, because all you can do is laugh when you fall in the mud.

Twenty years later, I pause every time I walk past the barn that built me to remember who I am and how it set me on my path. Early mornings, late nights. Hard work. Sweat and tears. Bumps and bruises. There was never an easy day in the barn that built me, and it always reminds me of who I am and how strong I can be.