And there it is!  Standing in my white terrycloth robe with a mug of Kenyan coffee in my hand, delightful aroma wafting its way to my nostrils, I look out my second-story bedroom window.  Blazing orange fills my sight on this perfectly beautiful, November Sunday morning at dawn.

Wait a minute!  I’m facing NORTH!  That CANNOT be the SUN rising!  And it’s stuck!  In a TREE!

Indeed, ’tis the season of another blazing orange, begun one day prior . . .

GUN SEASON in WISCONSIN! Open season on BAMBI for one week!!!  And our farm is located in prime deer territory.

NO!!!!

Run, Bambi, RUN!!!!

Oh, how my mind and heart get screamish and my other guts get squeamish with the visual of deer hanging from beams over garbage pails every year for one week.

Yes, I know.  We Wisconsinites must keep our abundant deer population in check and hunting (harvesting!) is more humane than letting the poor animals starve through the harsh winter.  And all the hunters I know either eat their venison or donate the meat to local food pantries to help families in need.  But still—it’s BAMBI!

Or, maybe not . . .

I stand here in the warmth of my bedroom, cuddled in white terrycloth, sipping Kenyan coffee, watching Mr. Great Orange Hunter, when suddenly, out from the forest walk six lovely does in a straight line.  They stroll right in front of Mr. Great Orange Hunter, stuck in a tree.  And Mr. GOH never even raises his gun to give it a go!  Either he is asleep in his stand or he doesn’t want a doe.

Quickly, I grab my binoculars to spy on Mr. GOH who seemingly doesn’t want a doe.  Most certainly, he is NOT asleep.  I see his head move in the doe direction as he clutches his gun tight to his chest.

Mr. Great Orange Hunter, stuck in a tree, is NOT looking for a doe! Mr. GOH is looking instead for BIG BRUNO BUCK with big antler rack!

Next thing I see?

YES!  In back of Mr. Great Orange Hunter is . . .

BIG BRUNO BUCK!

This is too funny not to write about, hence—a blog post on Monday in addition to Tuesday!

So, Mr. Great Orange Hunter, stuck in a tree, is facing south, probably able to see me standing in my warm bedroom in my cozy white terrycloth robe, wishing he had my steaming mug of Kenyan coffee.  And, from my vantage point, I see BIG BRUNO BUCK meandering due east, BEHIND Mr. GOH, while Mr. GOH is watching the doe he doesn’t want ambling due west.  I can’t help but laugh out loud.  Mr. GOH never even spots Big Bruno Buck because he is FACING THE WRONG DIRECTION!

Ok. There is no such thing as coincidence, at least not in the dangerous neighborhood of my over-active mind.  There MUST be a spiritual parallel here!

And, alas, there IS!  But I’m not going to tell you what it is.  I think you can figure it out with the questions I asked myself yesterday . . .

How many times have I missed the mark because I’ve been facing the wrong way?

How many joy opportunities have slipped right by me because I’ve insisted on something other than what’s provided, right in front of me?

Is life really about getting trophies so we can brag or is it about being grateful for what God provides?

How do I miss Jesus every—single—day—because I’m stuck, facing only one direction, and I forget to move my head and see His wonder all around?

I love when God comes to me in my most stressful times and graces me with His humor. He’s so gentle and fun when helping to open my blind eyes, soften my stiff neck, and warm my frosted heart.

And I am thankful that, at least on Sunday, both Bambi and Bruno made it safely into the shelter of their woods.