Deer

So, there's a plot of highway deep in west Texas between Terlingua and Alpine. At night, it's really dark. You don't get any cell phone service here. And, every five miles it seems there's a yellow sign with a picture of deer painted on it. If you happen to be traveling on this road after dark, chances are you're not gonna see another vehicle for miles. 

My 11 month old daughter, my wife, and me were traveling down this road on Saturday night when all of a sudden I looked up and stared into the eyes of one of the things that I kept seeing painted on these yellow signs. It came out of nowhere. Shelby told me the deer ran into the road but I didn't even see that part. I just saw it appear out of nowhere.

Frantically, I slammed the brakes and braced for the impact. It all happened so fast. My daughter started crying and the deer started flying. My heart felt like it would explode at any moment along with my frustrated mind. 

I got out of the car (which was a rental, which wasn't covered on my insurance) and surveyed the damage. Deer hair pointed from buckled metal. The fender and wheel well were cracked. The headlight panel was gone, and the light shined toward the ground. It was one of my classic, oh shit, moments.

Eight hours away from home with no cell phone service. We're out of baby formula. I don't know if the car is drivable. I can't call the rental company or the insurance right now. I don't even know if we can make to Alpine, which is twenty minutes away. 

It's the oh shit moment.

After returning to the vehicle, I was too shaken up to say anything. I was also too frustrated. So, I kept to myself and let the worry and anger build up to a very unhealthy level as I was thinking about all the things that were wrong with everything in my world . . . 

which brings me to a very important question:

Where did my troubles come from? The deer or my head?

At the moment, it was the deer's fault. That deer chose to intentionally wait for just the right time and jump in front of my vehicle because it had a bone to pick with me. That deer wanted to make my life miserable. That deer cared so much about screwing up my plans that it decided to sacrifice its own life for the cause. That deer created my present troubles. 

Although it sounds stupid and immature, that's how I thought. Because, when I can pin the troubles on the deer, it allows me to be the victim and sit in self-pity, aka, Look at what that mean deer did to me. It then allows me to start retaliating in whatever fashion I may choose, because, after all, justice needs to be served right? And so I'll take it out on those around me, like my wife or my helpless and scared baby daughter. Or, I'll become silent and let my emotions take me on a ride for awhile. I'll think about how I don't deserve anything bad to happen in life, and how I'm worthy of a flawless, uninterrupted existence, and how everything's supposed to go my way.

And that's the insanity of pinning my troubles on the deer, or him, or her, or it. It gives me permission to let my emotions control me and take me wherever they want. 

And maybe that's why Jesus said things like, Seek first the kingdom of God and all these things (like peace? serenity? contentment?) will be added to you. Maybe if the people he was talking to would quit worrying about what the mean ole Roman governor was gonna do to them next, and would start letting the realm of God infiltrate their minds, they'd find the peace they were looking for all along. 

And maybe that's why, when Shelby said, Breathe. It's out of our hands. There's nothing we can do about it, I realized that these troubles of mine weren't caused by the mean ole deer, but by my hesitance to seek first . . .

The word trouble is defined by emotional or mental distress. Whoever decided to put that word in the dictionary knew that trouble doesn't start on the outside, but inside.

And so, the troubles arose out of my own mind. The word didn't exist until my emotions got disturbed, until my mind started getting out of hand. 

And that's why that stupid, pointless thing that I hate doing when I'm in the oh, shit moment becomes paramount. Prayer is the answer. Rather, the God that somehow hears my childish, self-centered prayers in the heat of battle becomes the answer. It's the only thing (I've found so far) that'll save me from myself, or from the car ride that my emotions want to take me on. 

And that's in every moment of mental disturbance. Either the deer (or him, or her, or it) is the cause or my lack of seeking God is the cause. The former only leads to more mental disturbance. The latter leads to mental clarity and peace.