I was late leaving the office last night and on my way home almost had a "close encounter" with a deer in the worst of ways. Thank goodness I'm saying "almost".
The road I travel is hilly and winding most of the way and very wooded. At 5:30 PM this time of year, it's twilight. Light rain was falling and as I came to the bottom of a curve, I saw two deer jumping across the road. From that distance, they almost looked like dogs but I slowed down anyway. When you see one or two, you can only guess there could be more. Since there was traffic behind me, the situation was tricky and I was more than uncomfortable.
What made it worse is that I was driving my new car. I had driven the same car for 16 years. It was paid for and relatively reliable and that was enough for me. At year end, we decided it was time that the repairs outweighed practicality, so I have this wonderful, new ride. It's so nice I almost feel like I shouldn't be driving it . . . that's just how my mind works. Crazy right?
Anyway, just as I suspected might happen, the third deer jumped out of the ditch only a few feet in front of me and bounded across the road. Since I had already slowed down, I missed it . . . but it was way too close for comfort. My heart felt like it was going to get to the house ahead of me from the adrenalin rush.
As you can imagine, it's all I thought about the rest of the way home. Now this new car just likes to move fast . . . ok, well, I know you're going to make me own some of the responsibility, as well I should, but the speed is so effortless I don't even realize how fast I'm going. Not at all like my other car.
This morning as I was preparing to go out the door once more my mind turned to the virtual "hurricane" that swirls around my life (it's called the family business) . . . and yet I know I'm not alone. There's that "still small voice" that whispers, "I'm with you . . . there is nothing ever to fear".
Why is it that when I try to "cast the whole of my care" they seem to stick to me like indelible ink? Then I'm reminded that my biggest struggle is to enter into peace. That's because entering this peaceful place is like going through the eye of a needle and there's just enough room for you. You have to let go of the cares to get through. Whoa, how is that possible?
Still and small is the voice . . . it's not groping for words either . . . I just need to be more attentive. More than that . . . responsive.
These words weigh so heavy on my heart today that I can't help but believe there is someone else out there that needs to hear this. No matter what dangers are out there, and there are many, I can listen to the "voice" and not be afraid.
Happy trails . . . peace out . .