Why the JSP in Spirit Ranch is important. My mom was a horsewoman. Her name was Jean Sippel, thus the JS. Without Mom, there would be no Spirit Ranch JSP. For many reasons.
My father was killed on December 12, 1961, leaving Mom with three children: Vic (11), Sandy (8), and me (1). Life was difficult: we lived in a small SD community of 250 at the time. Dad provided the family income, and his death (murder) left Mom traumatized in all ways one can imagine. Yet, she moved forward as best she could. And that was enough. More than enough. Grandma and Grandpa Buss lived less than a mile away, and life on the farm was a welcome respite for my sisters and me. Grandma's baked goods--caramel rolls, orange cookies, chocolate chip cookies--filled our hearts. Grandpa was a kid at heart. Diversity in breeds of cattle, sheep, and hogs, he was always finding something unique to add to the barnyard. Though my father was gone all too soon from this world, he left us his parents and Scout, a beautiful Paint.
Scout was majestic in my young horse-loving eyes. And, when Dad was no longer alive to ride him in local parades, Mom slipped into the saddle. She grew up riding, but Scout was Dad's horse, and he was a handful. Mom often shared that she could barely keep him from bolting that first summer of parades.
Though I seldom saw Mom ride, she ensured I had time at the farm to ride ponies Grandpa kept for us grandkids. At five, I began riding and never stopped. Horses and ponies were my salvation from life's worries and unanswered questions. Barn critters kept me in the present where past shadows dare not enter.
So, in September 2003, it was Mom who flew to Denver from SD to help Jeff and me move our family to our little farm. Inside the front door rests a picture of Grandma and Grandpa; after all, they are the reason I set my sights on a farmette of my own one day, a place to share with my family and kids, a place where others could shed life's worries and get to know themselves a bit better through the eyes of... a horse, of course!
May 2018, Mom and I walked to the barn to feed the horses, and she queried, "Can you ever imagine a day without a horse?" I couldn't, any more than I could imagine a day without her. But, then she was gone in August when she was killed in a car accident. We were lost: Mom was the matriarch of our small family, a steady guide through the best and worst of times.
July 2, 2020, my sixtieth birthday, I galloped on Hammer ponying sweet Ariel beside me. No saddle. Just my little herd and I. Then, Hammer shied, and pulled by Ariel's reins, I slipped off balance; Hammer bucked, and I was off. I lay in the open space off of our property staring at the hot July sun and knew I had to move. No one could see me in the tall grass, and I had no phone. Rolling over, I made it to my knees and realized my arm was badly broken, grotesquely dangling from my shoulder. Wandering through the sandy river bottom to our fence and gate, I was guided by spirits past up the forty-foot hill on the backside of our barn. My son saw me staggering in front of the hitch n post and came to me with my husband. While Jeff went off to catch horses wandering in the open space, Ty drove me to the ER.
"Son, she's twenty minutes from dead--why didn't you call an ambulance?" asked the ER doctor. The rest of the day was spent in surgery. My lung had collapsed, and I had 12 breaks in my ribs that resulted in plating them through my back. My right pelvis was crushed, and my sacrum fractured. Lucky, lucky to be alive.
The doctors didn't know how I had made it so far without help.
But there was help. More than enough help. Each one of the rescued dogs and cats heeded Mom's urging to get me home. And those spirits guided me home. Home where a week later I would open a 60th birthday card from my mom who had passed two years earlier. Inside the card was a sticky note: "If I'm not here on Pam's 60th birthday, make sure she gets this card." And I did.
The JSP--Jean Sippel Penney. Mom was the fifth person in our family. My husband's and kids' last name is Penney. It is her spirit that continues to guide us forward. It is the spirit of unwanted critters who found their way to 374 Buckskin Ct. It is the spirit of grandparents who lost a son all too young but kept his love for horses alive through love and acceptance of lost grandchildren.
As I was welcomed to the barn as a child---broken, yet whole--Spirit Ranch JSP welcomes you!
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