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All shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be wellFriday, April 7, 2017
From Psalm 18 And Goldie, she was just plain gone. Margaret cooed, then called, then shouted at her. No answer. Nada. Finally Margaret began to hear soft, pathetic sounds coming from the garbage can. That was when she came in and asked for help. Since I knew where to look, I heard Goldie's unobtrusive calling right away. Like she was clearing her throat. But she wasn't in the garbage can, and she wasn't in the garden. I pulled away one thing and then another, until at last I saw her curled up in between the cans, golden feathers shining in the rain. Settled in for all the night, forgotten among the lilies, wet as she could be. Clucking quiet. Eyes wide open. I turned off the flashlight and picked her up. She let me pick her up. She didn't squawk or cry or wrestle. She was soaking wet, and I held her close to my chest. I wish I'd put her inside my jacket, but I didn't. When we came to the coop I put her down with her friends, and she climbed the chicken stairs to roost right away. All was well. I know this verse from psalms is not really about the chickens and me. It's about me and God. But I thought about Jeremiah, and I thought about Goldie when I was reading the response. "In my distress I called upon the Lord, and he heard my voice." Once again I'm learning more from the chickens than they are learning from me. Happens all the time. Jesus, you were always telling those disciples not to be afraid. You're also always telling me. "David! Do not be afraid." And then you pick me up and hold me close to your chest, and I can hear you breathing, and your heart beating right there by my ear, and you carry me, Jesus. You carry me. All the way home through the storm you carry me. You love to hold me close and cover me with your arm and your robe and I'm warm again, thank you Jesus. Let me be clean and warm and fluffy, right there by your heart. And I will not ... be afraid. |
Of our five chickens, only Goldie was still out in the rain. Our door prop had fallen and the coop door slammed shut, and the storm poured down on our chickens (Goldie Hen, Henrietta, Shally, Ravenclaw, and Puffball) for several hours. We thought they would be warm and fluffy in their little home, but they were not. They were wet and wet when we went outside to close them up for the night.