Retreat

The Shenandoah National Park was a perfect place for an end-of-the-year, personal retreat. The weather in the Virginia mountains was unseasonably warm. Sitting atop what became my favorite mountain offered a spectacular view of the Appalachian ridge and the valley below. Facing west, this perch became the spot I returned to every night for sunset. The daily trip was well worth it as the sky became a giant canvas of magnificent color. No one paints as beautifully as this, I often thought.

I took trips up the mountain at other times during the day as well. One day I was returning down the mountain path in the early afternoon when I literally walked into a herd of white-tailed deer. I froze, not wanting to scare off the beautiful creatures before I could get a good look at them. There were eight all together, and they looked up at me as if to ask what I had in mind. But they didn't run away. After checking me out, they simply went back to their feeding along the path. I was only 15 to 20 feet away and couldn't remember ever being so close to so many wild deer. At one point, a doe with big, brown eyes walked toward me and came within about eight feet of where I was standing. We just looked at each other. I smiled, and she stared for a few moments before going back to her grazing.

After a few minutes, the deer began to move deeper into the woods. The herd moved slowly, and I decided to try to follow. I expected they would soon run off but wanted to prolong the precious experience for just a little while longer.

Well, I spent the whole afternoon with that herd of white-tailed deer. Whenever they moved, I followed, being careful to maintain a respectful distance and not intrude upon their ground. When they stopped, I stopped too, and just stood there watching them. The deer were feeding and playing and didn't seem to be in a hurry. I wasn't either. At first they appeared to find me curious, but after a while they seemed to accept my coming along with them.

At one point, they all lay down in the woods, taking a little rest. So I sat down too, under a tree and then on a log. I marveled at the scene: sitting in the woods surrounded by white-tailed deer lying on the forest floor just a few feet away. Some of them closed their eyes to sleep for a while. I dozed off myself once. When I woke up, I found my companions still with me. We just sat there for more than an hour. The woods were perfectly quiet except for the songs of the birds and a gentle breeze rustling through the trees. It was all so peaceful that I could feel my spirit and my whole body relaxing.

Of course, I remembered my hero, St. Francis, and had a few conversations myself (pretty one-sided ones) with my new friends in the forest. I talked to the deer about Ronald Reagan, Jerry Falwell, and other burdens on my mind. None of it seemed too important to them, and indeed, they appeared quite detached from it all. Somehow, I suspected their perspective was more healthy than mine.

After a while, the deer got up, so I did too. We began to move again, and I felt a real joy in watching the deer stretch and prance around in the woods. Every so often, some deer would run in short playful spurts, amazing me with their grace. I found myself saying out loud, "They're so beautiful."

The deer began to move out of the deeper woods now, back to the place where I found them more than three hours earlier. At that moment, a group of people with a barking dog came along the path. Finally, the deer were frightened off, and I watched as their white tails bounded out of sight. I said a quiet goodbye.

It was time to go up my mountain for sunset anyway, and the afternoon seemed very complete. The sunset was especially beautiful that night, and an overwhelming feeling of gratitude engulfed me. It was an extraordinary day, one I would not soon forget. A unique experience with some of God's most beautiful creatures had reminded me of some simpler things and helped me a little to regain my perspective.

Jim Wallis is editor-in-chief of Sojourners magazine.