Tag: chickens

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Blessed Be the Tie That Binds

He arrived one morning in a cat carrier, the last duck at  my son’s farm. His destiny was the chopping block if I did not adopt him. Why could I not make room for one more fowl?  I reasoned with myself. I have three white chickens and a little hen-house.  One more body would fit comfortably, and they could be a family.

Gently placing the carrier on the ground,my granddaughter Lillian suggested that since he had hung out with her chickens, he would feel right at home with my chickens. With trepidation, I opened the door to the carrier. Will he stay here on our little patch of Kansas, or will he go like a homing pigeon down the gravel drive from whence he came?

Released from his cage and spotting my three white chickens, the newly acquired duck flapped his wings, lowered his head, and charged after them. I watched in amusement. Chickens had imprinted this duck, and for all he knew he was a chicken and those three were his kin. The chickens, however, looking over their shoulders, knew that this strange thing racing toward them was definitely NOT a chicken.

“Oh, help, oh help,” they squawked desperately running from this intruder for all their little legs could go. “Wait, wait!!!” quacked the duck running as fast as his short, webbed feet could go. And the chase was on.

It would take about a week before the duck would be considered an insider in this little band of fowls.

We all yearn to belong, to be insiders.  We overhear three friends enjoying each other’s company,  but we are outside the circle. Laughter floats from the yard next door while we sit on the deck, alone. We listen to someone’s plan for a day-trip, and our big plan is mowing the yard.  Two young women sit huddled together sharing their hearts with each other. Deep in our innermost being is the cry, “Oh, wait, oh wait. Let me be one of you. I want to hang out with you. I want to spend time with you; I want to be known, be loved . . . belong.

Unlike the duck and the chickens, we do  belong to the same species. We were created for intimacy, for friendship, for belonging.

We sing,  “Blest be the tie that binds/ our hearts in Christian love.” What is the tie that binds? Is it real? Is it enough? And if it is, then why do I feel lonely? Is it even possible to be satisfied with that “tie that binds?” Or am I wanting more?

No easy answer here. Or is there? Perhaps a better understanding of that “tie,” (The Holy Spirit, the Comforter, the Teacher) is essential to finding an answer. When we correctly understand the miracle of an “Indwelling Spirit,” we will begin to grow in our feelings of belonging.  The indwelling of the Holy Spirit is the very foundation of our “belonging.”  The rest, that connection with others, will be built upon this  foundation.

“Never alone”; “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”; “Christ lives in me.” (See the link for more assurances: https://bible.knowing-jesus.com/topics/Indwelling-Of-The-Holy-Spirit).

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on neighborly social distancing

Thud! Judd and I had just settled into our recliners in the living room. That strange sound had come from outside the kitchen window.

“What in the world was that?” I leaned forward, my eyes scanning the dining area to the kitchen. What I saw caused me to giggle and jump from my chair.

Our neighbor’s chickens have not heard of social distancing. Every morning for weeks they had been coming across the brome field to accompany me in my morning chores of feeding two chickens, two ducks, a goat, and a donkey. And then, they gravitate to the bird feeder.

Judd feeds the birds, and ever since our grandson, Hezekiah, has taken to bird-watching in a very serious manner, Judd has become more heavily invested in that bird-feeder. And he did not consider feeding chickens as part of the deal.

It became a ritual: every time he saw the chickens under his bird feeder pecking away at the kernels that had fallen to the ground, he would run out and chase them away . . . only for them to return as soon as he disappeared into the house.

The familiar scene became entertainment for our grandchildren who could watch from their large dining room window across the road while they completed their homeschool assignments.

At last, Judd decided it would take more than just chasing them from the bird feeder. With great resolve, he would shout, wave his arms, and chase them all the way across the brome field to their own chicken pen. It worked.

However, several days later, two of the hens, a Barred Rock and a rusty Americana, began to venture back to our yard, mostly hanging out with my chickens from across the fence. Within days, they became aware that I lived in this house, I brought grain from this house, and I fed chickens.

The scene that had brought a smile to my face was directly outside my kitchen window. Stretching to see inside were four beady-eyed chicken heads perched on two scrawny necks. The hens were sitting on the back of the porch swing, balancing like trapeze artists, and peeking in the kitchen window looking for that “lady-who-feeds-chickens.”

I thought they were cute; Judd did not. Running out the door Judd pursued those poor friendly chickens across the yard. The Americano ran to the donkey pen and flew up into a tree. The Barred Rock ran home.

The next morning, I found the Americano in the pen with my chickens. It did not take many days for the Barred Rock to join her sister in her new environment. They had finally figured out how to safely get fed by the lady-who-feeds-chickens without getting chased by the man-who-feeds-birds.

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Re-Collecting in the Pasture

Today I needed to walk the old familiar trail in the pasture again.The thoughts and feelings swirling in my mind and heart were and are disconcerting. Thirty-eight years ago, this pasture was new to me. My body was younger. I was filled with anticipation of what could be, Things in the world were . . . just different. Yes, we were on a down-swing in our culture, but there was hope of changing it.

Yesterday we were young, God was with us, we could carry out the vision under God’s direction. We were a community with one heart.

Today, we are not so young. Our  community living here is of one heart. Our old community is a little splintered. Some have gone left, some have stayed right.

Why do divisions occur? That is my conundrum today. When we are guided by the same Spirit, should we not be of one mind?

Perhaps the enemy is not us, but the Enemy who uses our weaknesses, our blind spots, our idols and will exploits them to weaken the Body of Christ. We can defend what we FEEL  is right. We can stake our lives on what we have figured out. (The wisdom of man is foolishness with God, we are told.) Thus, we can lose sight of the most important, become divided,  and lose the battle.

As I  left the pasture and headed back home I noticed the Troyer’s chickens were beginning to bed down for the night. The sun had gone over the hill on their side  the road. Lining up side-by-side on a post in the barn, they were announcing that it was time to roost. My chickens were far  from the hill, and the sun was still shining where they were. They were continuing to wander around looking for more food. Eventually, the sun will go behind the hill for them, also, and they will go into their pen for the night.

It’s just a matter of time.