Monday, May 2, 2011
Hoof Prints Across my Heart
There are just so many footprints of the Almighty everywhere I look: layer upon layer of purple, hazy mountain peaks, crystal clear streams gushing and gurgling happily down their rocky creek beds, tee-tiny titmice warbling, hummers humming and chipmunks scurrying to and fro doing whatever it is chipmunks do.
And deer almost sending our car off a sheer cliff.
As we drove the 20 miles down the winding, twisty mountain road just last Sunday morning to a church on the other side of our mountain, my husband Chuck and I unexpectedly came face to face with eternity.
We were cruising along, tapping our toes and singing along with 70s music by the likes of Elton John and Norman Greenbaum. Good stuff, that. Easy to forget your worries and lose yourself in the groovy beat.
Just as we rounded a curve, a large deer bounded out of the woods bordering the narrow, two-lane road and stepped out onto the pavement directly in front of our car. Unable to stop that suddenly, the only response left to Chuck was to swerve into the other lane. But that option was not an option at all, for although we hadn't seen another vehicle all morning, wouldn't you know a car was rapidly approaching from the opposite direction.
Miraculously (and I use that term intentionally), the animal paused, turning his head first left, at us, and then right at the approaching car. Then, as if making a calculated decision, he spun around and fled back from whence he came, his white-tailed haunches disappearing into the dense brush of the virgin forest.
This all happened within the span of about three seconds. Like hoof prints across my heart.
The pinched, white face of the other driver as he passed confirmed what we already knew: any alternative move on the part of the deer would have likely sent one or both of our cars careening down the side of the cliff yawning rail-less on the other side of the road.
Good-bye Yellow Brick Road.
Hello Spirit in the Sky.
But as my granddaddy would say, it just wasn't our time. We continued on to church - a little more trembly and a lot more aware of the fragility of life. It could all be over in the flash of an antler.
It was a major grace note - my term for God's little everyday miracles that prove He's got our backs. That all the details of our lives matter to Him. That Psalms 121:7 is not an idle promise: The Lord will keep you from all harm - he will watch over your life (NIV).
And if He's on our side, honestly, who can be against us? Not even Bambi.