By Susan Shanklin

Tom and I live in the tiny little village of Scandia, Minnesota, nestled in rolling hills and not far from the St. Croix River. So scenic. So refreshing for one’s soul, no matter the time or season of the year. We live in the first Swedish settlement in Minnesota. And proud they are of this heritage! The city of Scandia web page features a picture of a colorful sunset, rolling green meadows, and DEER. 

You know, the cute, four-legged, tail-turned-up, leaping, hoofed God’s creature?

We have lived in many places with deer grazing and browsing about.

“Oh, look! A deer.” one fondly says. 

“Oh, over there, a deer. Oh no, there are more. If you see one, there are sure to be more,” you say.

We see them all the time around Scandia, and we would see more if our backyard wasn’t fenced in and the neighbors didn’t have four dogs. 

Sometimes you really don’t SEE them they’re just there!

“Where did that deer come from!” one yells, weaving and braking at the same time.

Alas, this isn’t quite what happened to us a couple of cold winter nights ago.

Tom grabs his heavy black brief bag full of Bibles, teaching notes, toothbrush, extra pair of socks (just yoking, but it’s always super heavy) and carries it out to the white 2010 Nissan Altima, with me carrying my tote with Bible, shaw, and house shoes. We are off to home group where Tom was to teach the first of four classes on moving in the gifts of the Holy Spirit. 

Tom has prepared like it was a college course, and he is very focused. Me, not so much.

We set out in darkness weaving through wooded terrain with houses twinkling with lights dotted here and there on the sides of the road.

I’m thinking about my reading glasses that I left at home, and Tom, well, is in the Twilight Zone, when BAM!

The car comes to a complete stop, and suddenly white balloons sprung in our faces along with a white cloud of foul-smelling and tasting chemicals.

I didn’t scream! I didn’t move. We each turn to each other and say, “Are you ok?”

“Yes, I think so,” Tom says, but I notice a red bruise on his hand but no blood. 

“I’m ok, but my ears are ringing,” and “roll down your window!”

Those white balloons were the airbags being deployed, and the white cloud was chemical propellants stored in the airbags. Cough, cough. Awful! 

“I better get this car off to the side,” Tom says and sees if the car will move again.

We wobbled over to the side of the road in total, total disbelief that we had hit a deer. I had seen it, but it was in the other lane, and suddenly BAM!

What is the first thing you do in a time of crisis? What do you do when you are in a cloud of white chemicals? We both reach for our cell phones! 

I turn on my light on my phone and pan the interior of the car and realize for the first time what the BAM was. Not only had the airbags deployed, but there was a massive concave shattered windshield right smack in front of ME. 

Oh, DEER!

Tom opens his door to survey the debris of car parts littering the highway.

Oh, DEER!

“What should we do?” Tom says.

“Let’s go back and get my car and go to home group,” I say in my delirium.

“No, I think I have to call 911 and a tow truck,” Mister Logic says. “Then I’ll call Jim and tell him I don’t think we will make it tonight.”

Tom calls 911, which really wasn’t too organized on their part, transferring us here and there. Next, he calls Jim the home group leader, and comes up with a plan to text him the notes for the first teaching!

Can you imagine, two white heads sitting in a smashed-up car after a smelly white chemical explosion, one texting study notes and me texting my daughters, Ruthie in Iowa, and Heidi, who, believe it or not, lives just three miles from where we hit the deer?

The Highway Patrolman comes, asks a few questions, asks for our licenses, and goes back to his car, which has only one headlight. 

He comes back and asks again if we are ok? I complain about the terrible ringing in my ears, and he asks me if I want an ambulance. HA!

Dom, our lovable son-in-law, moseys up in his Fargo earflap plaid hat, heavy coat, and big snow boots. “You guys ok?”

By now, the flatbed tow truck arrives, and Dom and Tom clean out the loyal, faithful 2010 white Nissan. 

Jim got his notes to start the first lesson, I have ringing in my ears, and Tom is thankful, for it could have been worse.

So, my friends, pray for me as Tom talks … and talks cars. Not actually a “new” car, but he texts me links to cars throughout the day and takes me to car lots while I play candy crush on my phone.

Pray for the perfect car! (Quickly!)

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