Deer Season . . .

It’s dark by the time I come home from work now. Almost every night there is a doe on the lawn, as I come into the driveway. It’s probably a coincidence that she’s there, watching calmly as I drive in, and that she walks easily over to my window. I talk to her and her tail wiggles, the way a fawn’s will when mama deer nuzzles them.

We’re not supposed to encourage contact–deer ticks, lime disease ad all, but my neighbor feeds them–with wonderful Empire apples from a local orchard.

Empire apples are sweet and crisp–my favorites. The doe has good taste! For the most part around here, it’s a peaceable kingdom–the deer are safe and relaxed. But driving at night is a hazard, because they forage at night, and will leap out in front of your headlights, so I drive slowly down these country roads, with my high beams on. I want to peacefully co-exist with these beautiful creatures. No, I don’t eat venison.

A white-tailed deer drinks from the creek; I want to drink God, deep draughts of God.
I’m thirsty for God-alive. I wonder, “Will I ever make it– arrive and drink in God’s presence?”
I’m on a diet of tears– tears for breakfast, tears for supper.
Why are you down in the dumps, dear soul? Why are you crying the blues? Fix my eyes on God–
soon I’ll be praising again. He puts a smile on my face. He’s my God.
When my soul is in the dumps, I rehearse everything I know of you.
Then GOD promises to love me all day, sing songs all through the night! My life is God’s prayer.
Why are you down in the dumps, dear soul? Why are you crying the blues? Fix my eyes on God–
soon I’ll be praising again. He puts a smile on my face. He’s my God. (Psalm 42:1b-2a,5-6a,8,11)

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