From time to time, I'll be sharing stories that demonstrate the transforming nature of healing prayer.
The Little Deer: A Miracle of Animal Healing
I had an incredible experience last fall that I believe is evidence that God hears prayer and answers it for animals as well as humans.
This occurred on October 21, 2007, the six-year anniversary of the day I became a vegan, and also the day that I met Cassie the cow.
I was driving home from a church meeting at about 8 pm on a two-lane road in semi-rural Massachusetts not far from the entrance onto a major freeway. It was a clear, starry night, the smell of evening fireplace blazes lingering in the crisp autumn air. Going southbound, I passed what I thought was a large yellow dog that had been hit by a car in the opposite breakdown lane. I turned around as soon as I could and headed back north to discover it was not a dog but a very small female deer, almost a fawn but without the white spots on her back. My heart sunk and I made the sign of the cross, as I usually do when passing dead animals on the road, a silent acknowledgment and blessing of the life lost, likely from an encounter with humans, even if unintentional.
I turned around again to head in my original direction and resume my trip home. I can't describe the feeling exactly, but I didn't get more than a hundred yards down the road and something compelled me to turn around. I'd never encountered a similar scene when the animal wasn't dead, but something inexplicable told me to make sure. I came upon her lifeless body in the dark, pulled over behind her, turned on my brights and flashers, and got out of the car. I walked toward her slowly and carefully, assuming I'd confirm some ghastly injury and instead...she was breathing! Almost imperceptibly, but she was indeed breathing. Her neck was straight, her limbs appeared unbroken, but her eyes were closed and she didn't respond when I spoke to her. If she'd been conscious, I'd have expected her to thrash around in fear, hence my cautious approach. I'm not all that comfortable around wildlife, simply because I don't know the proper way to handle them. If she had been a person (or a dog or cat) in hypovolemic shock, I would have expected her heart to be racing and her breathing to be labored as she fought to live, her heart and lungs struggling to shunt oxygenated blood to the vital organs, but it was just the opposite, I could barely see her chest moving--I had to stare hard to see her chest rise and fall--and I feared she was slipping from this world. I hurried back to the car to grab my cell phone and call the police. About 10 minutes later, I finally got connected to the correct police department (does Westford really sound like Webster?) and they said they were on their way. I hoped they might help me drive her to Tufts Vet School/Hospital, about 45 minutes drive south.
I rushed back to the doe and began to do the only thing I knew might make a difference--I began to pray. Out loud, hands up, on the side of the road for all the passing pre-Red-Sox-playoff-game fans retrieving their Chinese takeout food from the restaurant across the road to see. Admittedly a bit self-conscious, I determined that it wouldn't deter me and I apologized in my prayer for it, lest God think I was embarrassed to been seen talking to him. I prayed fervently for her healing, in the way I'd been taught at the School of Healing Prayer, at an Episcopal diocese center in upstate New York (but for humans!), expectantly and positively, asking God that if healing was not possible, that he prepare a place for her imminent arrival. I also prayed that she be unconscious and therefore not experiencing any pain or distress. The very moment those words left my lips, her long eyelashes flickered and her eyes opened! I was astonished! I prayed even harder, with hope and excitement. I tried to pour my love onto her, willing her to get up.
After what seemed like forever, a large, bald, baby faced young patrolman drove up, blue lights flashing, and he parked behind my car. I quickly filled him in and he got a flashlight from the cruiser to confirm her status. He then pulled out leather gloves, put them on and tried to right her by pushing her rump. No go. She flopped back over onto her side, just like I found her, athough she was awake. She'd pick up her head and look around but then drop it back down to the ground, dazed and confused. The officer said, "Let's turn our lights off and see if that helps, but I think I'm going to have to put her down". We turned off our headlights and, as he sat in the cruiser checking the protocol for euthanasia via cell phone with his supervisor, I stood between the two cars at my trunk, where I could see the deer but she couldn't see me. Again, my hands went up and I prayed as fervently as I can ever remember, trying not to beseech God, but asking that his will be done and that his grace and mercy rain down on the little deer.
About five minutes later, the cop got out of the cruiser and confirmed he'd need to put her down. By now the doe looked like we'd come upon her in some clearing--her limbs folded under her, cat-style, and her head and neck upright, eyes bright, alert and looking around. It had been about 40 minutes since I'd first come upon her. I implored him to give her a chance to rise on her own. He wasn't relishing the task before him, and he confided he'd never had to shoot an animal so he'd taken extra time to ensure the procedure with the supervising officer, and he agreed to give it another go. He pushed her backside again and this time, she got up but promptly did a face-plant into the leaves. She righted her top half but made no move to get to fully standing, just plunked herself down again, legs folded, calmly taking in the whole scene. The officer was convinced she had a broken leg, was mortally injured and determined that there was nothing more to be done. He headed back to the cruiser to retrieve his shotgun. It was at that moment that I looked right in the doe's eyes and said aloud, "Sweetheart, please get up. You need to go--NOW!" And with that, she wobbly arose, took a few faltering steps, and then bounded into the woods! I was jubilant, the cop bewildered and both of us incredibly relieved. Just then, the animal control officer drove up. She was skeptical of the tale, but the officer swore it was true, and radioed back to headquarters that the deer was gone: "No, I'm not kidding, she got up and left" he said twice into his shoulder unit. The ACO, not convinced and concerned about a punctured lung or head trauma (despite that I identified myself as an RN and told her I saw no blood, lacerations or obvious fractures), said she heard something in the woods, took the cop’s flashlight and traipsed a fair distance, only to return empty-handed. The deer was indeed gone.
I hugged the cop, who looked sort of sheepish, and I sang all the way home! Alleluia! Alleluia! God is great, God is good! I remained on an incredible high for almost 24 hours afterwards, having seen the tangible manifestation of answered prayer.
Now…how do I know that the deer wasn’t just stunned and would have recovered in time on her own? I don’t. Do I think I have some magical gift that cured her? Absolutely not. Then what happened? I’ll never know this side of the grave. All I know is I came upon a suffering creature in need and I asked God for mercy on her behalf, and the outcome was positive. Is there any harm in believing it was cause and effect in this case. Nope. There are lots of theological viewpoints on what prayer is and is not, and people from many different camps who will argue for and against whether we should even be praying for animals at all, about whether they are worthy. I’m happy to engage in those discussions as long as they’re respectful and we are all learning something from one another. The bottom line is no one knows for sure until we see Jesus and if the overarching purpose is love, and God gets the glory, I feel he will understand. When it comes to companion animals in particular, healing prayer has a distinct role in drawing people nearer to God, in feeling a deeper connection to the Creator who cares for them and the furry ones they share their lives with, which then spills over into the other parts of their walk with God. I don’t have all the answers but I’m willing to sit with the questions and that’s enough for now.
In hindsight I wonder if God perhaps gave me this experience to start my entree into animal healing prayer ministry with a bang, knowing what would lie ahead with Cassie. The journey with her has been anything but easy, straightforward or quick. But it has been rewarding, the lessons hard-won. My love and respect for her endure. The joy from that first encounter with the little deer sustained me on many a cold New England winter’s afternoon last year, huddled next to Cassie in an unheated barn, wondering if she would ever stand outside on a clear starry night, under the moonlight. I am still wondering that….
Please say your own prayers tonight for little deer everywhere, and all their brethren in the woods as they prepare for winter, that they remain healthy and safe, and also one of thanks to our Creator, whose mercy extends even to the smallest of his creations. And for Cassie, whose story will unfold on the pages here. I hope you will come to love her as I have.