I can’t confirm the chickens were actually praying when I moved them, but I suspect they were. The wind had picked up suddenly and although it was brilliantly sunny, it was cooling down. Looking out the window I decided the beasts looked rather tousled. During the Q&A session that morning, my girlfriend stated you had to watch for the wind when the chickens were off-roading.
No.
Free ranging.
Roaming chickens are happy chickens except when it is windy, which is why I went to find my friend to tell her the chickens were praying for deliverance.
Problem was, I couldn’t find my girlfriend anywhere, so I decided to stage a chicken relocation. It was going to be tricky because it involved me touching and picking up chickens. Sounds easy, but I’ve been known to create a problem or two while being helpful. What if I picked up the chicken incorrectly, resulting in wing flapping, which set off screaming? What if I tossed the critter in the air in an attempt to get away from it? What then? The last thing I wanted to do was to lose a chicken, but I didn’t want them to die of exposure either, so I didn’t have much of a choice.
One more waltz round the house didn’t procure my friend so out the front door I went. I marched over to the chicken coop and shared my plan with the birds. I explained I would pick them up, that there would be no wing flapping and I would deposit them back in their cage 20 feet away. All members stared at me in silence which meant they agreed to the plan in principle. I stood and prayed some more. Pulling back the mesh, I place one foot in the run and bent down to grab my first chicken. The miraculous happened, a fat pudgy chicken came running over and sat down by my foot. Realizing this was my cue, I swallowed a scream, reached down and grabbed the chicken.
I should interrupt myself to tell you that chickens feel pretty weird. The first thing you notice is their soft feathers as you come into contact. You have to go beyond that though, because you have to grip them tightly or else you get wing flapping and that’s bad for chicken transport. When you tighten your grip, you get the feeling you are grasping a bunch of straws because the feathers shaft adheres the feather to the wing. When you have the chicken in your grasp, you have to lift the beggar and that is a good time to start praying. It’s then you notice the chicken is warm and muscled and then it gets strange because you realize you are holding a bunch of chicken nuggets. That’s where my introspection stops.
Back to the miracle.
My girlfriend mentioned the chickens would come to you when it was time for them to go back to their coop. Naturally, I thought she was lying because she got her chickens recently and is very fond of them. She’s not given to dishonesty, but frankly she’s in the honeymoon phase of her chicken relationship. Her chickens can do no wrong: she’s still thrilled they lay food. Turns out she wasn't lying and the chicken obliged by letting me lift its feathered body off the ground. It kind of yodeled a bit but I was brave and managed to get the first beast back in the coop.
Give God the glory because now I’m a farmer.
Pleased with myself, I head back to the off-road area to grab chicken number two. This chicken clearly understood the transport plan because it too obliged and stood still as I bent down. It changed its mind causing me to shout and shuffle a bit but then decided against running and let me grab it without incident. It was kind of amazing. This process was repeated with alarming success until I got to the last three chickens. These guys were not going to comply with the transport plan.
Clearly the little duffers wanted back in their coop. They would approach, but the moment I reached down to grab them, they would cluck and scoot away. I stood still and sweetly repeated the transport plan. The chickens clucked, swore and ran like mad in the opposite direction. Realizing it wasn’t going to be pleasant, I steeled my nerve. The race was on.
It took quite a while to catch the last three evil chickens. My daughter tells me I’m not allowed to call the chickens evil, but she wasn’t there. There was a fair amount of cursing, flapping and squawking and the chickens weren’t happy either. (I'll skip the violent scene, because my farmer friend reads my blog and I haven't told her she's the topic this week.) Finally all birds were accounted for, shut in the coop. They clucked merrily and walked about together, recounting their adventures. I was left amazed by their foolishness; running away instead of getting the required help.
Believers can be that way. I see it a lot in the female set, but then I spend more time with women than men. Perhaps men are the same. Women spend a lot of time before God in prayer, asking for the help needed to face their struggles. Isolated and alone in their pain, they ask God for a friend to share their burden. These same women, enter churches for worship and upon occasion, someone will ask “How are you?” or “How can I pray for you?”
Strangely, though the request is sincere, it is impossible for some to answer the question honestly. A hand of fellowship is offered, and the dear heart shies away and dodges. An opportunity for connection is lost and the soul is left to circle the group, awaiting another chance for connection.
It’s goofy behavior.
I can identify. After seven years of prayer, the Lord has seen fit grant my request. He is bringing good things and instead of falling on my face in thankfulness, I started to wonder if I'm up for the challenge. The Lord shows up: I chicken out.
So I’m praying this week, for those of us who are looking for the courage to go where the Lord would lead us. That we might have the heart to present ourselves honestly before him, so that we will find grace and mercy in our time of need. Courage to face him so that he might scoop us up and lead us safely onward. That we can work out our salvation with fewer feathers flying.
Thinking of you,
xoxKaren
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