The Deer and Her Fawn
I was on a walk one morning in the early dawn light, and as the road shifted to an incline, I caught sight of a mama deer and her baby. I slowed my pace, as an attempt to say, “good morning,” and as I did, the little fawn looked at me and wagged her tail. I felt a little silly, like an attempt at being Snow White, but I smiled at her. She wagged her tail again.
I moved my eyes to her mama, who stood still, staring me down with caution in her gaze.
And I felt that.
I felt in my heart what it is like to be the mama on alert, with joy-filled babies nearby.
But we are not the deer. We are a different type of mammal. One with more than just instinct, but with feelings and heart. One with longings, desires, and needs. God made us this way, with all of these pieces, to be more like him than any others in creation.
So when we live with our eyes on the narrow path in front of us, consumed with the day’s to-do’s, consumed with the schedule of extra-curricular activities, work, and technology, we lose the margin to engage in a bigger story. We lose the vision to engage in God’s big story for us, and by proxy for our children.
I imagine the mama deer and her high alert, like our current culture climate of information overload where we’re told a million ways to keep our kids safe from danger, a myriad of options for securing our kids success in soccer/dance/swim/school etc. The ways we can carefully curate a path for them, it puts us in a position where we think we can control so much.
But our heart is found in living a story that is bigger than ourselves. These stories are found when we begin to be honest about life’s experiences - the tragic ones and the beautiful ones. When children hear their parents name their own sadnesses, the things that make them angry, the times they feel nervous and afraid, and overjoyed, they begin to see a bigger story. One where we are all made in the image of a feeling God, and in this we’re united as humankind.
As a parent, what will that do for us to live in a bigger story ourselves? What if our children learn from us, not because we do grand things, but because by engaging with our own hearts, we will begin to live the greatness that is uniquely in us.