I would say it was a typical week, but typical implies some degree of normalcy. None of my weeks are normal. As the lead pastor of an active church, the only thing I count on each week is a flurry of activity.

That particular week in early November began crazier than most. Saturday, I studied all day. Sunday, I packed in two church services, a lunch for new families, and an elder's meeting. Monday hit me with back-to-back counseling sessions, drop-ins, and an evening Bible study. When I finally hit the pillow late Monday night, I didn't even set the alarm. I had one goal: eight hours of sleep!

However, the phone's ringing jarred me from sleep at 4:30 a.m. A nurse from the hospital had called to tell me one of my parishioners had been admitted. The family was anxious and wanted me to pray with them over the phone.

Being invited into a moment of crisis is an honor; it's one of the reasons I became a pastor. Yet, when I hung up the phone, I was out of gas. Tuesday's docket was full, and as I sat at the kitchen table with my wife, Jamie, at 5 a.m., I didn't have the energy to face it.

"My head is spinning," I said exhaustedly.

"There's no way you'll get back to sleep, Hon. Why don't you go sit in a tree for a few hours?" Jamie replied encouragingly.

Composer Franz Schubert wrote, "Happy is the man who finds a true friend, and far happier is he who finds that true friend in his wife." Jamie is my companion in a thousand ways. In that predawn moment, she knew precisely what I needed: to push the "pause" button on life, get outside, and clear my head. Following her advice, I took a long hot shower with scent-free soap, donned my warmest clothes, and took off for a brisk morning in the stand.

Normally, the first moments in a tree find me dreaming of big bucks and successful scenarios. Not this morning. Like a dryer on a continuous spin cycle, my mind raced from one thought to another regarding upcoming meetings, phone calls, and counseling sessions.

My mind might have spun all morning had it not been for him. At 6:35, just a few minutes before shooting light, movement caught my eye. The dew was turning into fog and just beginning to lift from the field. Peering through the haze, I saw the largest buck I'd seen all year. He was sneaking out of the timber and into the wheat field to my left. All my racing thoughts, anxiety, and stress immediately evaporated.

Because I had not planned on going out that morning, I'd tried a couple of things out of the ordinary. Specifically, I usually do not hunt field edges in the morning, and I don't use buck decoys. This morning, however, I gave both a try.

As the buck neared the middle of the field, he still hadn't noticed my decoy. In a few moments he'd be gone. I fumbled through my pack, found my call, and grunted. He stopped, froze, and cranked his head in my direction. I'd been wanting to try my new snort-wheeze call, so I gave it a shot. The deer's silhouette grew noticeably larger as the hairs on his body stood up. Angling my direction, he disappeared behind a line of cedar trees.