Lessons from the Barn: Wisdom to Start 2025

From "The Janitor Series"

By Gerry Savage

The barn was still, the kind of quiet that only comes after a heavy rain. Phillie and Dreamer, the two mares, were settling into their stalls for the night, their breaths slow and steady. Casey stood brushing Phillie’s coat, his movements purposeful but distracted, while Ed leaned against the stall door, observing him with his usual quiet wisdom. Jack was nearby, watching as Dreamer nuzzled the fresh hay he’d laid out.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Ed said, his voice soft but firm. “What’s eating at you, Casey?”

Casey paused, his grip tightening on the brush. “Just thinking,” he said. “The New Year’s around the corner, and it’s got me wondering… what’s the point of it all? Feels like I’ve been running in place, carrying the same weight year after year.”

Ed let the words hang in the air for a moment, then stepped closer, brushing some hay off the stall door. “Let me tell you something, son,” he began. “Everyone feels stuck at some point. But the trick is to keep moving, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

Casey turned to look at him, his expression skeptical. “That’s easy to say, Ed. But it’s not that simple. Some things just don’t go away—like the memories, the losses.”

Jack spoke up from Dreamer’s stall, his tone measured. “Ed’s right, Casey. It’s not about forgetting. It’s about what you do with those memories. They can weigh you down, or they can push you forward. It’s your choice.”

Ed nodded, his eyes steady on Casey. “Jack’s got a point. You’ve been through hell, Casey. We all have in our own ways. But you know what? You’re here. That means you’ve still got a chance to make something of the time you’ve got.”

Casey exhaled, leaning against Phillie’s stall. “It just feels like the past is always there, pulling me back. And the future? I don’t even know what that looks like anymore.”

Ed stepped into the stall, standing beside him. “The past is always going to be part of you, Casey. But it doesn’t have to control you. It’s like working with these horses,” he said, gesturing to Phillie. “You don’t look back at every wrong step they’ve taken. You guide them forward. You teach them to trust, to move in the right direction.”

Jack added, “And it’s not about having all the answers right away. Life’s not a straight line. It’s a series of turns, choices, and surprises. You don’t have to know exactly where you’re headed. You just have to take the next step.”

Casey looked down, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “So, what’s the next step? What do you do when you don’t know where to go?”

Ed smiled, his face creasing with lines of experience. “You start where you are. You lean on the people around you—people who care about you, like Jack and Mary, and even these horses. And you trust that God put you here for a reason.”

Casey’s brow furrowed, but there was something softer in his expression now, a flicker of hope. “It’s hard to trust that sometimes.”

Ed reached out, placing a hand on Casey’s shoulder. “I know it is. But trust doesn’t mean you have all the answers. It means you keep going, even when you don’t.”

Dreamer nickered softly, and Phillie nudged Casey’s arm as if sensing the shift in the conversation. Jack stepped closer, leaning on the stall door beside Ed. “You’ve got a lot of good ahead of you, Casey. The New Year? It’s not just another reminder of what’s behind you—it’s an open door to what’s next.”

Casey met their eyes, a small, tentative smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I mean it.”

Ed grinned. “That’s what we’re here for, son. You’re part of the family now, and family sticks together.”

The three men stood there for a moment, the barn filled with the quiet companionship of shared understanding. Outside, the rain had stopped, and the first stars were starting to peek through the clouds.

Jack finally clapped his hands, breaking the silence. “Alright, let’s head up to the house. Mary’s got apple pie waiting, and Ed’s been known to get the first slice if we’re not quick.”

Ed chuckled. “That’s because I’ve earned it.”

Casey shook his head, laughing softly. “Alright, let’s go. Can’t miss out on pie.”

As they walked back to the house, Casey felt something he hadn’t in a long time—a sense of belonging. The weight he carried wasn’t gone, but it felt lighter somehow. Maybe Ed and Jack were right. Maybe the New Year wasn’t about forgetting the past—it was about embracing what came next.

Gerry Savage is a United States Marine Corps veteran and is the Author of The Four Pillars of Sales and The Janitor, "It's the Simple THings That a Make a Difference."

https://www.fourpillarsconsultinggroup.com/