this is not a rough draft.

I should have known better when she told us about the deer.

We had escaped scraped knees and toddler tantrums for just a few days at a resort-like setting overlooking Possum Kingdom Lake. I did not know possums were royalty, but if this is where all their kings and queens reside, I believe it. The scene from our balcony was enough to distract us from the 100 degree heat.... which was what L. was doing when she snuck out for a morning run. After a few miles, she slipped into the pool for some relief and did a few laps. She then emerged at the edge that looked out onto the lake to see it.

A deer. Looking right back at her.

As the deer longs for streams of water, so I long for you, O God. I thirst for God, the living God. Psalm 42:1, 2

She told us all about it when she came back, even though I struggled to listen, bleary-eyed. Sleeping late was not happening; I had felt well-rested and unable to go back to sleep at 7 a.m. We were almost as surprised to hear about as she was as when she saw it, and we remarked back with "That's amazing!" and "I can't believe that!" and even, "I still can't believe you went for a run on our vacation."

But I should have known.

We packed up our things to skip down to the very same pool later that morning and enjoyed the beautiful act of doing nothing for hours and hours on end. Had the bending short trees we passed known too? Was the bridge of rocks I carefully stepped over aware of it too?

I really should have known better.

On our last day, we packed up ourselves and paused for a prayer on the balcony. One was willing, another was tired, and the other was distraught. But we still prayed together, unaware that creation was probably moving even closer into our little huddle. Perhaps it knew what was about to happen.

What became a closing prayer turned into a request for more...which then perked listening, loving hearts that petitioned. The light became bright. Breaths were gulped. Eyes widened. Hearts beat faster. Birds sang. The wind moved only when prayers left our lips. The Spirit was not slight, and seemed to fall on us like a heavy wool blanket. We were left fumbling for reality, although knowing that this reality was the only one we had ever known.

I hear the tumult of the raging seas as your waves and surging tides sweep over me -Psalm 42:7

We skipped down to the pool again, this time to play where the deer had panted. We didn't need a drink anymore, either. We rounded the bend, and I saw who was in the water.

I should have known.

It wasn't the adults, for they were already bored and only lounged by pool, scrolling on their devices and wishing they were always somewhere else. Children, though, splashed and pretended boisterously in the water. I shamelessly jumped in too, and the submersion was a welcome Baptism. We waded, as the younger ones were somehow drawn to us, caught in an invisible current. Deep in their pretending, they barely noticed me smile at them. But I knew why they were there. A reminder of the change that always happens when things go His way. I came as tired wife and mother a few days before and left as little girl that afternoon. Early that first morning, He had come to transform my thirst. And didn't leave until I willingly leaped into the water for the quench.

It wasn't your typical vacation. But I really should have known it wouldn't be.


But each day the Lord pours his unfailing love upon me, and through each night I sing his songs, praying to God who gives me life-Psalm 42:8


This post is part of Tuesdays Unwrapped at Chatting at the Sky.