Todays Helping ofChicken Soup for the Soul

[Guest guest]

The Fawn

By Kathe

My world had come apart and I thought, 'nothing or no one can ever

repair

it.' I was fresh from eight weeks in the hospital after a wretched accident

in

which I had lost my right arm and a few other mundane parts and pieces at

the

age of sixty-three. My blessed family was there through every grueling

surgery.

With each awakening I was ecstatic to be alive, until ghastly thoughts would

take hold of my mind and force reality to creep back in. Self-pity was

eating

me up, and homesickness often overwhelmed me. (I still find myself a cranky

old

fussbudget if away from my home for more than two days.)

I was released from the hospital after two months. When at last I

looked

up to behold the big curved log gateway over my drive, my carefully burned

lettering on the ranch sign hanging beneath the gate, and my beloved kids

and

grandkids running to greet me, I felt renewed, reborn. A small blackish

cloud

passed beneath the sun releasing a short July drencher as the youngsters

helped

their bedraggled Granny up toward the deck where our Molly and her Mike were

shish-kabobbing.

" The kids need you, Granny, " pleaded Mol, as she planted a kiss on my

cheek

and announced she was pregnant again. " They need to touch their Gran. " My

littlest babes grabbed onto my left arm lest I should topple over. We

lifted

our legs high and waded barefoot through the glistening wet grass where a

sea of

blossoms had raised their heads to drink. It smelled delicious.

" Are you okay, Gran? Do you want a glass of juice? " queried my sweet

Mikal.

" No, my darlin', not now, " I whispered. As we picked dandelions and

wild

flowers for the dinner table, I was acutely aware of my surroundings - more

than

ever before. Suddenly stared down at her bouquet and mumbled, " You're

not

going to die, are you Granny? "

The next morning I arose and slipped out into the sunshine in my shorty

jammies to look and listen to God's miracles embracing me. The mallards

were

completely engrossed in caring for their eggs - nested warmly under

carefully

fashioned bits of grass and straw. The hens took turns scurrying into Duck

Soup

Waterfowl Refuge to flap their wings and drown their feathers before

returning

to the nest for a few more hours of incubating. " Only a few more days,

ladies, "

I reminded them out loud. " Then all your worries begin. " Our beautiful

donkey

family had finally shed their scruffy winter coats and looked so fine, all

decked out in silky coats with their crosses emblazoned down their backs and

across their shoulders. " And what did ride to Bethlehem on? " I called

out.

As she sensed my frailties, one of the donkeys, Sweet Pea, whimpered ever so

softly instead of her usual full-blown hee-haw. She lifted her head and

sniffed

the air as I walked toward her, then all five suddenly jumped and fled.

I knew I looked and smelled different, but that was okay. I had lots

of

time and so did they. I could hardly wait to walk the earth . . . to

breathe in

the scent of lodge pole pine . . . to feel the sweet breezes that made the

pond

ripple . . . to listen to the piercing sounds of Rocky Mountain birds whose

melodies are heard only by those who bother to listen. The cottontails sat

up

to ogle while their wee ones scurried out of the grass before me. Our big

forested mountain was still there, and I knew this was the place I would

feed my

soul?forever. As I meandered over the uneven pasture toward the woods, in

hopes

the shooting stars or Indian paintbrush had bloomed, I thought I heard a

cry.

Our dog, Keesha, stopped to listen and sniff - it was probably only a

bird.

We had taken only a few more steps, however, and there before us hung a

spotted

fawn caught up on the farm fence. I quietly ordered Keesha to stay while I

drew

closer, trying not to notice the anxious doe peering at me from the shadows.

The fawn cried like a baby as I threw my heavily bandaged stump under her

chest,

lifted slightly and untangled her hoof with my good hand. Anyone coming

upon

the scene would have surely thought I had lost my mind. As we both fell to

the

ground, the mama leapt over the fence squealing at the top of her lungs.

Here I

was, this old broad lying in a field, flat on my back in my pajamas,

caressing a

spotted fawn with half an arm, while Keesha wagged her tail and slurped my

face

in utter joy.

" Okay, okay, Mama, we're leaving, " I yelled to the doe. With that she

and

her child ran off into the aspens without a by-your-leave. I couldn't help

but

laugh out loud and boast to Keesha as I rolled over and got to my feet.

" Holy

smokes girl, I've been home less than a day and already I'm a hero. I can

do

anything, even save a life. "

And save lives I did as the years have flown by. I was, and still am,

slightly insecure, and every time I get to feeling that life has dealt me a

bum

blow, I look around at others in such terrible trouble and thank God for

allowing this wretch to live and love all who enter her life. We know not

from

where God sends his creations to heal souls when all seems lost. That

little

fawn will always be in my prayers, for she was a part of my healing that

fateful

day. Thank you, little fawn, thank you.