Darkness enveloped the forest while wind and rain whipped the land. I approached a shadowed building, lay my hand on a cold metal clasp and slowly opened the door. It creaked on aging hinges . . .
Am I writing a thriller? Nah. Just visiting the chicken house after dark.
Some of our chickens like to fly over the fence. We've provided a large space for them to range so they don't need more freedom. And sometimes outside the fence there are marauders who like to kill chickens. So in order to protect the vagabonds we sometimes need to clip their wings. The best time is after dark when they can easily be lifted off the perch.
My daughter, her husband and my grandson and I went to work. We were gentle and soft spoken, but some of the hens got stirred up anyway, acting like they were about to be murdered. One hen in particular, a big fat sassy gal with gorgeous black and blue feathers started cackling loudly and ruffling up her feathers while doing her best to get free. I talked gently and held her for a few moments, but she kept right on cackling her head off. We all started laughing, even though I felt kind of sorry for her. Obviously she believed we were about to put an end to her.
After we'd finished and I was back inside and reading I got to thinking about that hen and how little she trusted us. We were there to help protect her. The clipping is not painful and it will help keep her safely inside the pen and away from predators. We knew that, but she didn't.
Sometimes I'm kind of like that hen. I like my comfort zone and I want to stay in it. When something comes along and rocks my comfortable boat I don't like it. Or if God closes a door on me I can get to cackling about it, certain calamity is coming upon me.
I know I'm not the only one who gets disgruntled when things seem to go wrong. Would I be right to say there are a lot of us who do that? And if the truth were told, we'd be a lot happier and live more peaceful lives if we stopped squawking and ruffling our feathers over unexpected circumstances and learned to trust God's wise perspective instead.
Maybe we can remind one another that God's not about to do us in when all He intends to do is a little feather clipping.
Grace and peace to you from God,
Bonnie
oooh, sometimes those clippings are terrifically painful and not little at all. But yes, God is there thru us with it. But thru the big prunings--well, it's just gonna hurt. Squawking will be done! And it's ok.
ReplyDeleteSo true, Patti. But I really do NOT like the big prunings, though I know they are necessary.
ReplyDeleteHugs, friend.
When we squawk, we're simply imitating Jesus -
ReplyDelete"Lord, let this cup pass from me!"
"Father, why have you abandoned me?"
This is God's way of telling us that it's OK to complain - He gets it.
http://blessed-are-the-pure-of-heart.blogspot.com
He does get it, Andrew. And He is full of mercy. But even though Jesus shared His heart honestly, he always submitted to The Father's will.
ReplyDeleteThat's where I have trouble.
Yeah. Me too.
ReplyDeleteI believe that so much of our faith and strength comes because we struggle. That is how we learn we can trust the Lord. And only because He has had to lift us up or catch us when we fall do we believe.
ReplyDeleteHi Bonnie,
ReplyDeleteThis is such a good reminder to trust God. Did this work on the chickens? I have a couple chickens flying the coop, and I tried clipping their wings, but one still flies out and I think I have cut it as far as I can. Have you ever had this problem?
Thanks
Jill
Jill, I usually only clip one side so they are short wings as well as balance.
ReplyDeleteI comment doesn't make sense. What I meant to say is I clip only one side so they lose the balance needed to fly high enough to get over a fence.
ReplyDelete