At dusk, he walked the same paved path he walked just about every day through and around his suburban neighborhood. It was good for his health but boring. On most days he saw only the cookie cutter condos, the powerlines, and the comings and goings of the other neighbor-pilgrims who trod the same concrete.
It was a long way from the land his ancestors had walked, he thought. He was Osage, somewhere deep in his bones and blood, but that was all gone, had all been given up or taken away or forced out of them over centuries. Ah well, he thought, it’s just a walk. Keep moving.
He was singing along to the old hymn that was playing in his headphones: Just a closer walk with thee. He sang loud in his supposed solitude and so startled a small trio of does that were feeding on a landscaped mound of flowers. He opened his eyes and saw them about the same time they saw him. He kept singing. They didn’t budge as he came within 10 feet of them. They tilted their heads at him and at his song and gave him a pass, sensing he was of no danger.
He stopped walking but kept singing. He became lost in this moment of found communion, and the houses and powerlines disappeared, replaced by trees and rocks and clouds and the rise and fall of the land that had been there all the time. He was no longer a retired factory worker but, rather, “He Who Sings to Deer,” connected for a brief moment to something bigger and older and more real than anything he had experienced in many years.
Nothing had changed, of course, except his perception, his awareness of what was happening around him. He sang more and the deer devoured the flowers. He smiled and nodded. He said thank you to the giver of it all, to the Father Creator he had known for so many years. To the One who made all things and who continues to make all things new.
Ask yourself in silence:
- Where and when do you feel most connected to the Creator?
A related note: Thomas Merton remarked in his journal on Feb. 13, 1968 about the crows around his monastery in Kentucky: “Two sat high in an oak beyond my gate as I walked on the brow of the hill at sunrise saying the Little Hours. They listened without protest to my singing of the antiphons. We are part of a menage, a liturgy, a fellowship of sorts.”
8 comments On A (Very) Short Story: He Who Sings to Deer
Just did some reading this morning on “hedgeballs,” the fruit of Osage-orange trees…& then your Osage (very) short story email was in my in-box. There are no coincidences in God’s world! Thank you for a great story & God wink.
Reflecting on the question you posed during your Blog, I find that I’ve felt closest to God when reflecting on events over the years that directly affected my life at those moments. Now, at my age, death & funerals occupy a lot of my time with me wondering how all of this makes sense now. Thanks for the Blog and the thoughts that go with it. Take Care & God Bless.
Thanks for writing, Bob. I hope you are well.
Thank you, Susan. I love such God winks and find that I encounter them often…one of the great benefits of paying attention and leaving ourselves open to the movemets of God in our lives. Have a great Sunday and week.
Great question, I feel most connected when I attend my church, connect with others that share my beliefs and try to put into practice what I have learned at the service.
Thanks, Chris. It’s good to hear from you. You are blessed to have found such a place.
I love He who sings to deer! Just being outside raking leaves out in the yard is when i am most connected to our Creator. Watching the family of sparrows eat from the birdfeeder, seeing the squirrels bury their food for the winter, or gazing in amazement at the ladybug that just landed on my arm! Peace and joy overwhelm me as the gust of wind swirls the leaves around into a neat corner of my patio.Making it easier for me to pick up. How awesome our Creator helping me work in the yard! My trust is seventy fold knowing His presence is with me twenty four seven!
Love this response…thanks for sharing. Have a great Thanksgiving.