Seeing and Being Seen

Yesterday evening I sat by our stream to pray and reflect on my day, listening to the babbling of the brook, the evening calls of birds, and the whispering of the breeze rustling the leaves and the pages of my Bible. As I gazed into the woods, suddenly I thought I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye but could see only the calligraphy of branches and twigs crisscrossing varied hues of green when I turned to look.

Experience has taught me to watch and wait, so I sat still and silent until I caught another hint of movement. A bird? Humm… maybe, maybe not… Then more motion that seemed to happen in two places at once behind a wall of wild roses… a deer? a coyote? Remaining alert and motionless, I watched and thought I saw something that might have been the flick of an ear. With that as a reference point, I gradually discerned dark spots where eyes could have been, and finally another spot I imagined could have been the nose of a deer or even a coyote

I sat for many minutes trying to determine if there actually was an animal watching me intently or if perhaps there were just a few ordinary birds shifting in the shrubs and an overactive imagination on my part. But finally, some clearer movement, and I watched as a deer, still mostly obscured by shrubs, turned to gracefully melt deeper into the woods.

My evening reflection of my day turned to musings on being so closely watched for many minutes by a wild creature I could only imagine I might be seeing. And to wonder at the thought that, though I often discern only the slightest signs of God’s presence throughout my day, he, too, is watching me closely. Open the eyes of my heart, Lord; I want to see you.

“O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.” – Psalm 139:1-3