Yesterday, we celebrated the success of a group of strong women who pulled together to honor my mother in the most remarkable way.  Marilyn Fizer March’s name will be unveiled on the "March Arena" at Whispering Manes Therapeutic Riding Center in Miami, Florida.  She first told me about Whispering Manes in 2012 when I was trying to find a volunteer opportunity for Tomas, my middle son.  She thought that he would be happiest among horses.

Even the name, “Whispering Manes” reminds me of my mom.  Throughout her life, she tried in vain to teach me how to whisper.  She succeeded in teaching me how to listen.  Her favorite verse, Psalm 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God,” demands that we stop in awe of the power of the Divine.  Only then, we can hear sacred whispers of comfort, resolve and strength. (When I doubt or am afraid, I hear my mom’s whispers to "Be Still" at 2:22 in the morning.)  Her main goal in life was to empower those around her with the tools to be their best selves.

One of my earliest memories with my mom is horseback riding.  We were visiting my grandparents in Texas when I was four or five.  One afternoon on a pony and I was hooked.  I was determined to pester every adult I found to take me outside to see the horses.  I was eventually plopped on the saddle in front of my mom on a GIANT horse and clutched the horn for dear life wondering if the grown ups had finally conspired to kill me.  I felt her arms around me as she held the reins and leaned back.  She whispered, “Its okay.  I got you.”  She showed me, “Here, grab the mane like this.”  For me, the gates of heaven opened.

There is something magical about entangling your fingers in the mane of a horse.  You instantly connect.  All your senses are awakened. You smell the leather oil in the saddle and the flowering fields around you. You feel the strength in the horse's shoulders and witness a glance back as the mare checks you out. For a moment, you seem to dive into the pool of her eyes.  You are seen and known in ways previously unimaginable. 

My mom said, “See, she likes you.”  We walked into the pasture and just when I thought this couldn’t get any more amazing, my mom showed me how to fly.  We cantered, then galloped, and left the confines of earth.  The three of us soared in ways I did not know was possible. I was fearless in her arms and secured to this magical beast with a fistful of mane. 

A world of possibilities opened for me that day. I learned that persistence pays off and that horses can fly.  Sure, I could walk and trot on a pony, but I needed a horse and my mom to gallop.  Truthfully, I still need my mom.  Her departure left a hole in my heart that is impossible to fill.  Knowing that there is a riding ring, blocks from Westwood Lakes, busy with horses and humans together, makes my heart soar again.  I imagine that another little girl may once ask, “Who is Marilyn Fizer March?" and she can learn about the angel that watches over us.  She can become a better version of herself with that connection to the horse she rides and a small fistful of mane.  

I sincerely appreciate all the donations and the committee's effort to make this possible.  

Thank you!

:Darla