The Doe and I

In Your presence is fulness of joy; 

At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore. 

Psalm 16:11 

 

The doe emerges from the edge of the woods and pauses before she ventures onto my lawn. After turning her head to the left and to the right to assess the safety of the space, she steps cautiously onto the grass. Still alert for possible danger, she strolls toward the pear tree so laden with fruit that one of the branches has fallen off and now lies on the ground. After she nibbles on a green pear, she wanders around the perimeter of the backyard in search of clover and other treats. 

As I watch her, I wonder, Why is she alone? Where are the other does that frequented the yard this time last year? Have they moved elsewhere? Or been killed on the highway? Does she have a fawn that’s too young to venture into the yard?

I hope she does, for I so enjoy seeing young ones grow up and slowly learn how to live in the adult world. And I want her to have a relationship that brings her joy. 

I sense a kindred spirit with the doe. I, too, am alone since my husband passed away six months ago. I, too, am learning to engage in self-care while also making careful decisions about how best to proceed in my current situation. Like the doe, I dare to venture alone into a wider world but then return to the spaces that feel more familiar—and less frightening. After I’ve spent time in seclusion, I summon courage to emerge again to experience the pleasures outside my four walls.  

If the doe and I could converse with each other, perhaps we’d discuss strategies we’re using to ease the ache of aloneness. I’d assure her that God is my Maker and Sustainer—and hers—and that He knows what we need. I’d also tell her that being in close relationship with Him brings me joy despite the loneliness in my heart.

Although she can't understand words, I’d also click on this link, and together we’d listen to the song, Your Presence, Lord: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2zEiiZi2DKk