Innocence

Faces devoid of guile, the twin fawns raise their heads and watch as I walk by. Their mother stands near, alert to my presence, but seemingly unconcerned as she resumes grazing.

            They’re called urban deer, these animals that roam my neighborhood. Many people consider them a nuisance since their tendency to eat flowers and trees negatively impacts landscapes. To me, they’re a gift. The small spotted babies, white tails flipping, are the picture of innocence. They look at me with black, unblinking eyes, unafraid. I minimize my movements to keep from startling, not wanting to frighten them, but at the same time hoping they will fear humans. Hunting season, after all, is just around the corner.

            Yes, hunting season, a disconcerting time of year. I have family and friends who hunt and confess I have difficulty reconciling their sport with my love of these animals. I understand if their actions serve to put food on the table. I eat innocent chickens and cows, after all. Hunting simply for a trophy, though, seems cruel and unreasonable. Go shoot some targets, boys.

            The animals graze close to the street where they show no hesitation in stepping out and slowly crossing. They don’t shy away from passing vehicles, unaware, I suppose, of the harm they might come to if hit. Like children, they don’t fear the worst—probably can’t imagine it.

            I’m the opposite, always preparing for that worst-case scenario, endless possibilities streaming through my mind. Not wanting to be caught off-guard, I live in a constant state of anxiety. I’m sure that has served me well at times, maybe preventing tragedies of my own. But anxiety gnaws, eating you from the inside, and that can’t be healthy.

            I believe God is in control and I’m in His sovereign hands. At the same time, that trust doesn’t blind me to the what-ifs. I pray that God would strengthen my faith, that He would give me a deer frame of mind. Innocence without fear.

            Sounds like heaven.