The one thing I love about the area where I delivered the newspaper was being able to encounter nature…. the mourning doves I would surprise, yelling at me with their unique warble; the bunny rabbits that hid under the bushes watching and waiting for me to pass. I loved it when I could get a glimpse of a hummingbird, because that was rare. Once in awhile I’d see a deer or two in the distance, but this Saturday was different. I was doing my thing and had gotten to the third building on my route. I pulled my car into the driveway and got out, papers in hand, only to see a doe and 2 fawns standing at the side of the building. They were close enough to see the frozen hesitance in their eyes. I quietly and respectfully placed the paper on the customer’s porch and slowly walked to the next porch. By the time I got back to my car they were gone. Now this is not that unusual on a fall morning. I would see a deer or two, then they would be gone and that would be it. I continued with a couple more buildings, looking but not seeing those beautiful deer. I drove up a hill to the next set of condos, when there they were again. It’s like they were waiting for me, to say “surprise – we’re gracing you with our presence again”. Still they kept their distance, I respected them, and continued on my way. Now I was beginning to look for them around each corner, always feeling a bit let down when I didn’t see them. The experience definitely fueled me for continuing the route and enjoying this little game of hide-and-seek.

About 13 buildings left to go. I kept hoping to see those deer again. It was so beautiful how the mother stood in front of her fawns, to protect them from this human throwing these strange things at the buildings. As I got to each corner and didn’t see my new playmates, I became discouraged. I kept hoping to run into them again, and was let down. By now I had given up. I drove to the last building and when I walked to the unit on the corner, there they were, closer than ever. I was actually the one scared this time. The mother made a snorting sound, but they just stared at me. I was even afraid to deliver the paper so I went back to my car and moved it forward on the road so they would see it and maybe flee. But they didn’t. I walked back to the sidewalk and they were still there staring at me. It was cool, but a bit uncomfortable. I slowly walked toward the porch and said “I’m not going to hurt you, I’m just trying to deliver this last paper.” Finally I got too close for comfort and they took off into the woods, the mother nudging her fawns off into the distance.

Getting back in my care I thought “what a cool morning.” I was so glad I got to deliver the papers that day. I started to think about how I looked so longingly around every corner, just to get one more glimpse of those deer. If only I sought after God like that every day… looking around every corner, hoping to encounter Him, even if only for a moment. I imagined the fear I would have when facing Him. But most of all I felt sad that I longed so much for the encounter with the deer and not with my maker.

In a way that only God knew would touch me, He used this experience in my life to gently point out what He and I had both been missing.

We have a dog. He is a pain. His name is Otis and he is 10 months old, 65 pounds and a lanky mix of german shepherd and lab. He was once really cute. He does not know how to play fetch, preferring for me to chase him with the ball instead of bringing it back to me. However, one chilly midnight, while my husband was out of state I should mention, he was more than happy to run to me with his latest find.

After 15 minutes of barking in the middle of the night, I’d figured the neighbors had had enough. Otis definitely had his eye on something, as he just kept staring at the ground while barking his head off. We live in an area where lots of bunnies roam, so I figured he’d found a nest. I begrudgingly put on my shoes and headed out to try to entice him to come inside. He is mainly black so he is hard to see in the dark.

All of a sudden, here comes Otis, bounding out of the perennials toward me with his find – the biggest possum I’d ever seen, with the grossest, longest, rattiest tail I’ve ever seen. I scream, thinking, “now the neighbors are really going to be awake!” He’s violently shaking this thing around and then drops it, confused that his new playmate is not playing back. Amazed that he actually dropped it, I pulled his collar and got him in the house, wiped off his face and locked him up in his crate so any germs could wear off, eeewww.

Well, the thing was dead. I got pretty close to see that there was no movement whatsoever. I mean after a shaking of that nature, how could anything survive. So I went to the garage to get a shovel so I could throw it over the fence when my friend Carin says “what if it’s not really dead?” I looked at her, puzzled. She said “haven’t you ever heard of playing possum?” Great, I thought, what am I supposed to do now. My shovel was like, 2 feet long, and I wasn’t taking any chances.

So as anyone would do, I sprinted to my computer, went to Google and typed in the question of all questions – “How do you know if a possum is really dead?” I was amazed at how fast my fingers flew and what I learned. Did you know possums can shut down their entire systems for hours to thwart off predators. Hmmm. I felt like a kid in elementary school science class learning some pretty cool stuff. About 20 minutes later, I crept onto the deck and our little friend had fled the yard. Sometimes I wish I could do that. Just shut everything down until it is safe to come out again and pick up where I left off. I could do that, and I wouldn’t even need the physical shaking, because life shakes us up enough.

So Google saved me from what could have been a shrieking experience with a still alive possum and a very short shovel. Thank you Google. I hope this story gets published in the new Chicken Soup for the Google Lover’s Soul.