Thanking God for a Daughter's "Premoition"

Last night — the last night of our Montana vacation — the three of us decided to take a drive to a nearby mountain lake, hidden in a valley and surrounded by rocky cliffs.  The drive was longer than expected, much of it on gravel roads, but we persevered.  The arrival was spectacular as Tally Lake became visible through the trees.  The the deepest lake in all of Montana was a dark blue in contrast with the gray rock rising up on all sides.

On the way back toward Whitefish, our daughter, Katie, home from Notre Dame for the summer, asked about the danger of hitting a deer while driving along these mountain roads.  My wife, Mindy, having grown up in Montana, and I, having lived there for several years, assured her that we had driven on these kinds of roads innumerable times without incident.

Katie persisted, saying she had a bad feeling.  Mostly to mollify her, I agreed to keep our speed low.  Even when we got back on to paved county highway, I kept the accelerator to around 25 miles per hour, though the posted speed limit was much higher.

Not more than ten to fifteen minutes after Katie expressed her disquiet — a flash of brown fur and a thud!  A deer had jumped right in front of the car.  And even with our slower speed and my instinctive slamming on the brakes, we hit the animal dead center.

None of us were injured — indeed, by virtue of the slow speed and my immediate braking, we barely felt the impact.  The deer collision had damaged the bumper, but the hood, windshield,  and engine were undamaged.

Even the deer may have survived the incident.  As I was slamming on the brakes, the doe’s legs were swept out from under her by the bumper and her side struck the grill-area of the front of the car.  She then fell out into the road and rolled to the side into the ditch.  I initially feared a gruesome scene of a badly injured animal flopping around in the ditch.  But, after just a second or two, the doe regained her feet and ran quickly into the surrounding woods.  As I examined the damage on the car, there was no blood.  To be sure, it is possible that the deer suffered fatal internal injuries.  But I’d like to think the deer, perhaps with a cracked rib or two, managed to get through the encounter.

I am so very grateful that I acquiesced to my daughter’s misgivings — and that she expressed them.  It could have been disastrous had I continued along the road as I otherwise was inclined, probably slightly exceeding the speed limit.  Had we struck the deer at such higher speed, the animal very likely would have bounced up on to the hood and perhaps into the windshield, with a grave risk of serious injury to the two of us riding in the front.

We’re all familiar with the Woody Allen quip saying that 80 or 90 percent of life is just showing up.  I tend to think showing up is not enough.  One also has to also be paying attention.  Today I am very grateful that we paid attention to our daughter.  I’d like to think that, by doing so, we were listening to the voice of God speaking through her to warn us of the approaching danger.

Obviously this was not the most enjoyable way to end an otherwise wonderful summer vacation.  But a dented bumper can be repaired.  And the family is fine.  Thank God.