An Easter Story - A Deer Prayer (Part 2 of 3)

“Mum! It’s a reindeer!” my son, sitting in the passenger seat excitedly piped up, scrambling to find my mobile phone to capture the moment. “Look at him! He’s huge!” he exclaimed, eyes wide with delight.

We were driving over a bridge, heading for town on a main highway, my mind actively thinking over the prayer request I had made moments ago, to see a deer – only to have my train of thought interrupted.

“A reindeer? Where?” I said, not seeing what my son could, as I slowed our car, approaching a ute with a cattle cage attached, moving slower than I. I turned my indicator on and moved to the right lane to overtake, and as I did, there – hidden on the ute behind big, white cardboard banners – was a large, majestic stag, quietly sitting amongst hay looking at us.

“Wow, mum! I’ve never seen a real reindeer before! Have you?” my son said gleefully, his smile almost reaching his ears.

It was true: I hadn’t seen a deer up close before. That’s why I’d asked God to send one my way! I knew it was a crazy and unrealistic – perhaps presumptuous – request, but I felt desperate, and I knew I needed to break free from the fear that was tightly holding me. I had to know once and for all if it was really God appealing to me. I had the willing heart but not the bravery to match it. I mean, if I’d asked God for something too common, it wouldn’t have been a good indicator of an answered prayer – it had to be a crazy request!

Thinking it over, it wasn’t a completely crazy request – I was about to launch myself into a new and somewhat scary venture I felt God had led me to, based around a Bible verse that said:

“The Lord God is my strength; He will make my feet like deer’s feet,
And He will make me walk on my high hills.” Habakkuk 3:19 NKJV

I wanted deer’s feet! I wanted to own a pair of my own. I would have already bought a pair if it weren’t for the fact that they were allegorical in nature and probably not the most becoming fashion statement anyway. I also felt it necessary to see what deer’s feet might look like – every time I thought of that verse, I’d have a little giggle… my unique Aussie accent would pronounce ‘high hills’ as ‘high heels,’ and walking up high hills with high heels wasn’t a forte of mine either. Did deer’s feet look anything like high heels? I wondered. When it came to footwear, I was most comfortable in the basic kind – sneakers or boots. 

Many questions ran through my mind again: Does God really chat with us – with me? Maybe I had become a creative storyteller? If my friendship with God were true, could I be courageous enough to tell others about it, or was it best to keep to myself? Would others want to share their personal stories with me?
Somehow, I had convinced myself that seeing a deer in the flesh was going to solve my problems. I laughed at the notion – now looking at a deer looking back at me… his feet invisible amongst the hay.

My common sense kicked in, as I was careful to interpret the situation with caution. “This couldn’t be the answer to my prayer already? I literally have only just asked! There is no way I’m going to be taken as a fool and believe it to be an answer to prayer, plus, I know that this stag was already travelling by road long before my prayer request came. The timing may have appeared perfect, but, nevertheless, coincidental.”

“Oh mum, it’s nose is injured and bleeding” my son noted, as he pulled his seatbelt loose, launched forward and now had his face squashed against the window so he could have a better look. The stag remained calm, still looking our way, as our vehicles went in different directions and we could no longer see one another. 

I thought about that stag most of the day. I wondered what might have caused his nose to bleed. Was it an injury while he was being loaded on the ute? Did he struggle? Did he hurt? Would he be ok? Where was he going? Would I ever see him again?

I had so many questions, but despite my own questions, God had one for me: “Is his blood important?”

Over the coming days, in a variety of unusual events, without me actively looking for him, I spoke to the man that owned the stag and had been driving the ute that day. “An unlikely coincidence?” I pondered…  He told me that the stag was quite a few years old and had come from a strong blood-line and was being driven to a client’s house to be shot by the client. I was horrified by the thought! The owner expressed love for his stag, but due to injuries the stag had sustained while protecting his herd from an unwelcomed late-night human hunter, death was inevitable for him, and the stag, with all his beauty, was worth a high price.

The owner said the deer were fearful after the unwelcomed visit and were finding ways to break free from the protection of the fence surrounding them. To make matters worse, the deer were finding their way onto the road downhill from their home and had become vulnerable to the cars driving below. The owner was actively trying to bring them back together and had organised to relocate them to a safe place, to allow them to thrive again. “They are a herd animal and don’t like to be lost or alone, and they are quite fragile and flighty when separated from their herd,” he said knowingly, his voice deep with intention. “Give me a call in a few weeks, when they have settled into their new environment, and we can arrange a time for you to visit my herd.”

As I parted ways with the owner, a question popped back into my mind that I had still left unanswered: “What was the importance of his blood?”