We’re in monsoon season here in West Virginia. We’ve had more than four inches of rain this week…three of which fell in forty-five minutes yesterday. We get long stretches of rain, and the ground becomes saturated. If what the old-timers called a “toad strangler” comes through, there is no place for the water to go. Then it rushes down the hillsides and through the hollers till the creeks can’t hold anymore. That’s when we get areal flooding, which, in our case, is the fields with the pollinator gardens. Only the three closest to the creek got hit, but the water was higher than I’ve seen in the eight years since I moved here from The Farm. Mr. FixIt has lived here since 1979, and he’s seen the water clear up to the pole barn and surrounding the neighbor’s house down the road.

When the rain let up a bit, I could hear the creeks roaring, so I put on my raincoat and boots to see what was happening. Those creeks were going so fast! I’ve seen the news stories about the devastating floods around the country, and I can understand the power of that water. As I circled the “far field” and made the turn toward the “near field,” I could hear an animal crying. It sounded like it was in distress, so I picked up my pace to get closer. I could hear it, but I couldn’t quite tell where it was. Finally, I called out softly, and it returned with frantic bleats.

When I determined the approximate location, I encountered another problem. The hedgerow around our fields is extremely dense. I had to get down on the ground on all fours and wedge my way into the dark thicket. The rushing water was no more than four or five feet in front of me. And there, standing at the very edge of the water, was a very tiny fawn. Barely able to stand yet, the baby cried out for me. I couldn’t reach her, and I was so scared she would fall in. If that happened, there would be no way to save her.

On my knees, sinking into the soggy leaf litter, I asked God to help me get her. I started talking to her in a soft, gentle voice. She wobbled her way to me on her Bambi legs, crying the whole time. She let me pick her up without a fuss, and I quickly got her to the pole barn. There were old towels in there, and we were safe from the rain. I grabbed a folding chair and sat down to inspect the little critter. She still had her umbilical cord, so she couldn’t be more than a day or two old. She didn’t seem to be injured in any way — just very wet and cold. Poor thing was shivering. I wrapped the towels around her and slowly dried her off. Her cries calmed down, and she fell asleep.

I stayed there till the rain was only a sprinkle. She stopped shivering. I debated what to do. It was still chilly and raining lightly. If I were going to set her out somewhere, it needed to be sheltered as best it could. I finally decided to lay her under the huge forsythia bushes along the fence, and hopefully her mama would smell her or hear her.

I could hear Mr. FixIt sucking up water in the basement from the flood. It was time to go inside and do the next job. Honestly, once spring hits, there isn’t a dull moment around here. That’s a good thing…because once I lay my head on the pillow at night, I can honestly say I gave it my all that day. And thank God for the opportunity.

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Then God said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and the livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.”

So God created man in his own image,
in the image of God he created him;
male and female he created them.

Genesis 1:26-27

***Gratitude Journal*** Today, I am grateful I was able to hear that little fawn’s cry over the roaring creek waters and save her from a certain death.