Suburbanite vs 2,000 lb Steer
A few weeks back, I scheduled some “alone time”. Like totally alone. No kids, no husband, no friends, no strangers.
I recently asked a friend to spiritually mentor me and she suggested blocking a day or half-day for just “God time” – no music, no books, no errands, no chores. Just me and God. In my 30s, I’ve been trying this new thing where I seek guidance and then actually do what the wise people have told me to do (this was not my forte in my 20s).
So I blocked time one Friday morning and headed to the forest with my trusty backpack filled with a Bible, journal, water bottle, lunch, toilet paper, and “animal protection.”
Yes, if I was alone in the woods, my husband was sending me packing heat.
I drove not too far away to the entrance of our local national forest. It’s a quick turn out of our neighborhood, through a small valley, down a windy gravel road, and over a couple of those cattle grates on the ground before you get to a blessed 2 million acres of the Caribou-Targhee National Forest.
Ironically, on that particular day, as I drove over the cattle grates, I thought Are they trying to keep the cattle OUT of the forest or IN in the forest? And if they’re trying to keep them IN, why on Earth would you keep your cattle on 2,000,000 open acres? You’d never find them!
Either way, I drove to a place I knew where I could easily reach a river to sit by. I parked the car, grabbed my bag and a blanket to sit on, and headed out. I walked along a worn trail to the edge of the small babbling river. I set my blanket out in the 9am sun and started my “God time” (which apparently included a quick nap at the start).
As the morning wore on, I read some chapters in my Bible, prayed, and just spent a lot of time being silent and watching every bird or butterfly that went past me. I was so much more aware of everything without life’s distractions surrounding me.
By 10am, the mild morning sun had quickly turned into the blazing 6,000 ft elevation Idaho sun that I’ve come to know well, so I set out on a quick walk to catch some shade. Leaving all of my things on the blanket, I took off my shoes, crossed the river, put my shoes back on, and scrambled up the mountain on a well-worn trail, where I found nice shady pines.
Yes, this was where I needed to be – in the shade.
So I scrambled back down the mountain, shoes off, crossed the river, gathered my things, back over the river, shoes back on, and scrambled back up the mountain to my new shaded refuge.
While my new space was shaded and much cooler, it was at roughly a 30-degree angle and rocky. The temperature was about the only thing that was better than my last spot. Though less comfortable, I could still hear the sound of the babbling brook, so I would survive just fine.
After about 30 minutes, I could hear the sound of the river change. Apparently after sitting next to a river for 2 straight hours, you become very aware of its normal rhythm. I couldn’t figure out what was different, but something had definitely changed. I didn’t think much of it, but then I heard what sounded like an iPhone on vibrate-mode, and I had no service to receive calls.
What IS that?
It started getting louder…and closer. And that low vibrating sound slowly turned into a very strong and very angry mooing sound.
From the sound of it, there was an irritated cow coming somewhere in the vicinity of me. Getting a little nervous, I got up to peek over the ridge towards the river and confirmed that there was, in fact a very real and very large steer next to the river.
(As a side note, I am not a stranger to cows. I live in cow country and drive past them daily. But this “cow” looked more like the cross between a bovine and a rhino. It looked to be about 6 feet tall, 8 feet long, about 2,000 lbs…and very mad.)
At this point, it became clear that the nice path to the river and the worn path up the mountain were not people-made trails, they were cattle-made trails. And I was sitting on this guy’s path.
I knew well enough that an herbivore wasn’t going to eat me. The question was: would an angry or surprised herbivore ram, kick, or trample me?
It was about that point that I thought of every 4-letter word I knew (yes…all of them).
Can cattle run? Am I supposed to climb a tree? How fast can cattle run? Hell, how fast can I run? I’m not even wearing shoes right now!
In sheer panic, I threw everything in my backpack, put on my shoes, grabbed my blanket, and started scrambling straight down the mountain in absolutely not the direction I came up.
Seriously, God? I’m trying to have some time with you right now and YOU can’t keep a freakin’ steer from scaring the crap out of me?
I got down to the river in record time, took my shoes off…again (because apparently, the cleanliness of my shoes seemed very important in this moment), got back across the river and ducked into a tunnel of bushes – which I very quickly realized was also a cattle-made tunnel.
Is this the point I take out my “animal protection?”
Because there were two very real possibilities when I got out of this bush tunnel: (1) there would be an angry 2,000 lb steer waiting for me or (2) there would be a herd of angry 2,000 lb cows waiting for me.
If a year in rural Idaho has taught me anything, it’s that it is very (and I mean very) bad to shoot someone’s cow. You will be shunned from society or worse…blasted on social media. You’d be better off stealing someone’s car from their front yard.
So, instead, I said a little prayer and got to the end of the tunnel with no new bovine friends on the other side, except the lone steer by the river who is now in a staring contest with me as he crosses the river to move up the mountain I was sitting on. I hustle down what I know now to be his path and make it back to my car, where I would sit for the rest of my “quiet” morning.
It wasn’t until I had time to process my ordeal in the safety of my car that I realized the giant, scary steer had been right where I used to be sitting. Had I not moved up the mountain originally, I would have been in the direct path of the steer, potentially napping on my cozy blanket.
Let’s just assume that situation would have been a lot worse than the one I was in.
It was a keen reminder that sometimes God moves us to places or situations in our lives to keep us off the dangerous path we were on. And sometimes the place God moves us to doesn’t feel like the most comfortable place…but it’s the safer place.
My rocky, angled spot up the mountain wasn’t nearly as comfortable as my patch of river-side grass at the bottom of the mountain. But in hindsight, you’d better believe that I was happy to not be in that spot when my 2,000 lb friend came walking through.
“Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
“The LORD himself watches over you! The LORD stands beside you as your protective shade.” Psalms 121:5
(I know, you’re impressed that I could find two Bible verses that relate to almost getting trampled by an angry cow. You’re welcome.)
