In the wild, when a large animal like an elk is wounded—whether from a fight with another animal or from a hunter—it does not remain in the open. It does not seek attention. It withdraws.

Instinctively, it moves deep into the woods.

Away from danger.Away from visibility.Away from anything that might cause further harm.

Not because it is weak — but because it is wounded.

The human heart responds in much the same way.

When we experience trauma, loss, shame, fear, or chronic pain, we often withdraw. We pull inward. We isolate. We learn how to survive by hiding the places that hurt the most.

Over time, this hiding can feel safer than healing. The woods become familiar. Loneliness becomes predictable. Silence feels controllable.

But wounds that are never tended do not truly heal in isolation.

Just as the wounded animal must eventually emerge—must drink, must eat, must rejoin life—the wounded human heart also reaches a moment where hiding is no longer enough.

Healing begins when we come back into relationship:

• with ourselves,
• with others,
• with our bodies,
• with truth,
• and with God.

This project exists to honor that journey.

Not to rush it. Not to judge the hiding.

But to gently illuminate the path from withdrawal toward restoration.