Brooding

 

It always amazes me to see the chickens or ducks sit their nests. With singular mind and purpose they sit, day after day. For chickens, a hatch requires twenty-one days of sitting, a duck, twenty-eight. It must feel like an eternity. I get restless after watching them for just a few minutes and must be moving on. A hen that is not nesting is a very active creature. Always on the go - foraging, exploring. They are already busily about their days before I roll out of bed at six o'clock, a respectable time to start the day, I think. So how do they make it all stop? How do they tune out the temptations to leave the nest? What a lesson in self-sacrifice...

I remember my own pregnancies. I could still travel, garden, and amuse myself to distraction. Not so for the hens. It truly is a "confinement." Could you sit - voluntarily - for twenty-eight straight days? Just sit? No books to read, no sweater to be knitting, no telephone to talk on (or computer!), nothing to watch or listen to except the world going on outside the window? All you would have to occupy yourself is your thoughts. What would you think of?

It is no surprise that mulling over the same thought over and over is called "brooding." But what do our broody thoughts amount to? Are they productive? Brooding is productive. For my hens it produces an incomparable reward - offspring. Darling little ducklings, and cute little chicks...promise that the world goes on.

A hen will not continue to sit on a spoiled egg. It will push it out of the nest. Am I as careful with my nest of thoughts?Or is precious time and space cluttered brooding over pointless pursuits?

New life...

Two days ago, my youngest son discovered one of his favorite hens dead in the henhouse. He was devastated. There were no signs of injury.

"Why did she have to die?" he wailed..."I want to know what killed her and I want to kill it back!" he asserted. He was struggling desperately between justice and vengence, and wrestling with the reality of death.

I kept company with him as he chose a spot for her grave, and helped him make final preparations for her. The tears streamed down his little cheeks, and his chest heaved with sobs. A little boy who doesn't dawdle after bedtime, grateful for a night's rest, was up for hours now, unable to sleep. Bleary-eyed and tear-stained, he crafted a cross for his pet. My heart was breaking for him. Of all the lessons learned on a farm, the precariousness of life weaves through it all. We often think of work ethic and responsibility as a child's foremost experience of rural life, but they are far distant to the ever-present lessons of life and death.

It is hard to witness life's most difficult questions confronted by the mind of a child. Questions that we often still wrestle with as adults. We often give answers that have been given to us, and proven unsatisfactory...Life ends. Living things die. Life isn't fair. Life goes on. Where is the comfort in that?

In times of struggle, what is most needed is hope. As I chose words to comfort my son, I listened carefully to the questions.

"Why did she have to die?" Is there justice in this world, why this hen, my hen?

Yes, there is justice, but no, we don't always understand it. We will suffer and we will grieve, because all life ends in death. God gives life, and he takes it back to Himself at the right time, because that is His design, but he is there, always there.

"I want to know what killed her and kill it back!" I want vengence. When I experience pain, I want to inflict greater pain to lessen my suffering. Vengence does not lessen your suffering, my son, it increases the suffering in the world. You are right to want to protect what is in your care. Her life has ended, and if she suffered, that has ended, too. You will best honor her memory by doing your best to care for those she left behind. Ease your suffering by offering comfort my son. Trust God to mete out vengence. Allow yourself to be comforted.

"I wish she hatched eggs, Mom." I wish I didn't have to let go. I want to know that this isn't the end. I want something to hold on to...I wish she hatched eggs, too, my son. I wish it wasn't so hard to let go. There is nothing we can hold on earth. The only thing we can hold is our hope for heaven, which can never be taken from us. Sometimes it is hard to let go, but know that when we let go, God takes hold, and we can trust in His eternal care.

"Will she go to heaven, Mom?" Is there hope? Is there more to this world than what I see? She is already there. God tells us that not even a sparrow falls without His knowing, and that He loves all of his creation. Death is not the end of life, it is like birth. We are born to earth, where we live until we die, and death is our birth in heaven to a new life.

"I will miss her, Mom." How will I go on? How will I be comforted? You will miss her. There will never be another exactly like her. You will find comfort, because you have a loving God. He is always there. Have faith, He has more to show you. He has a plan for you...a future and a hope.

This morning, while my son was in school, I checked the ducks who are nesting to see if the hatch has begun. In the nest was a lone chick...one of the chickens had slipped an egg into the clutch. We will never know whose stray egg it was - but God does.

There is a new life on the farm today. There is comfort for a boy's grieving heart. And there is a loving God sovereign over every detail. And there is reassurance that with every death, there is birth, and hope.

Transitions...

Every year the sheep are moved from drylot to pasture where their diet goes from stored hay to lush green grass. For the sheep it is an agonizing transition...they can see the grass growing all around them, they can nibble the little bits that persist in their dry lot...but they cannot get enough to feel satiated.

For the shepherd it is equally agonizing. You see, a good shepherd doesn't manage sheep, they manage grass. The grass stand should be about six inches before turning the sheep onto it, and they must be removed before grazing it below three inches. Grass must not be overgrazed, and must be allowed to recouperate, to insure that the sheep have access to healthy pasture throughout the season. This is achieved by timely rotation of pastures. Of course, watching the grass grow is tedious at best. And like watching for water to boil, when you are waiting, it seems to take forever. Since our pastures aren't irrigated, it also means timing the watering, and dragging hoses and sprinklers. All to grow grass - something that is DEADLY to our sheep.

Deadly? But isn't grass good for sheep? Isn't that what they are supposed to eat?

Indeed. But the transition from hay to grass is the most dangerous time of the year. Sheep are ruminants with a complex sytem of four stomachs and digestive bacteria that must stay in a delicate balance. Any change in their diet upsets this balance. Grass ferments in a way that hay doesn't, and can cause a buildup of gas (called bloat) inside of the sheep that is painful, to say the least, and can end by suffocating the sheep to death, sometimes inside of two hours.

Transition must occur slowly. A wise shepherd will control the sheep's access to grass to make sure that the bacteria has time to adjust. The sheep are let onto pasture, and then after a short time, moved back to dry lot - against their wishes, and under protest. Each day, depending on their response to transition, their condition - not their desire - the time on pasture is increased or decreased. The sheep must be watched with a careful eye for signs of bloat. Are the rumens (stomach) full, or are they swelling? Still passing pellets, or are there indications that the digestive process is compromised?

Unfortunately, the sheep, like many of us, have no concept of the danger that something good can pose for them. They like it, so they want as much as they can get. They do not want to be denied. Managing them at this time of year is heartwrenching. They feel deprived, like children. If we loved them, we would let them out of dry lot and deprivation onto lush pasture and indulgence. If we loved them, they would have everything they see, everything they want; we wouldn't withhold good things from them. But that isn't love. Love sets limits. A good shepherd protects sheep from themselves, preserving their lives. He gives them every good thing, in moderation, in the amount they are equipped to handle, in the proper time. A good parent does this for their children. And we, the sheep of God's pasture, His children, are blessed to have a Good Shepherd, a loving Father, who cares for us in the same fashion.

Sometimes we, like sheep, can see the "grass" on the other side, and can't understand why it is being withheld from us, why there seems to be a barrier between us and the things we so desire. Sometimes we begin to "taste" something good, ony to have it taken away and are anguished by the loss...Sometimes we are overwhelmed by limitations and feel deprived - or abandoned. Even though my sheep cannot always see me - I am always there. I provide for them, and am always at work on their behalf in ways they will never know. I am ever watchful for signs of need or distress, and will never let them suffer unduly. Sometimes sheep, in their own folly and stubbornness, will evade the boundaries lovingly set to protect them. As a shepherd, sometimes I am powerless to solve the problems they cause themselves. I can offer them compassion and comfort, and make an effort to heal them, but they suffer the consequences. Loving parents experience this with disobedient children. A loving God experiences this with a sinful humanity. It grieves the heart of the shepherd and the parent.

We must learn to accept boundaries and limitations, and not grasp out of greed and desire for all that we can have, or believe we should have. We must put our lives in the hands of the Good Shepherd, who lovingly cares for us, and knows how delicate the balance is between what is beneficial, and what is harmful. We must accept the consequences of our sinfulness and stubborness as results of our disobedience that grieves the heart of the One who cares for us, and turn to him for the care, comfort and healing he can offer. No good can come to the sheep that defies the Shepherd or the child that despises their Father, but one who rests in His wisdom and care will thrive.

I have the most disgusting habit...

...of collecting eggs throughout the day and putting them in my pockets, rather than in an egg basket. Its not the eggs or the pockets that are disgusting - it's what happens to the eggs when I forget that they are there. Like tonight for example. I collected eggs from the barn hen when I fed the sheep. An hour or so later, I went back down to check Elizabeth, who has been showing signs of labor. Not enough change to get excited about, so I crossed the aisle to sneak a peek at the newest lamb - Eira - born to Susie, a yearling, this afternoon. As I leaned over the stall rails to admire the two, I felt something dripping down my leg, and realized I had done it again! When will I learn?!

How does Webster's define a habit?
1: manner of conducting oneself
2: the prevailing disposition or character of a person's thoughts and feelings : mental makeup
3: a settled tendency or usual manner of behavior

Goodness gracious, if what I felt when I reached into my pocket is any indication of my mental state...

How do we break a habit?
About.com says "The first step in breaking a bad habit is to look at why you find this action so
compelling. In other words, what's the payoff for doing this seemingly negative thing?"

Let's see...the payoff is the convenience of the pocket - freeing my hands.

Next "Each time you perform the action, you are choosing what you value more: the payoff or the tradeoff!"

The tradeoff is having a broken egg - on my hand, filling my pocket - and everything else I have stuffed in there - egg down my leg, having to stop what I am doing to go up to the house, clean up the mess and start a new load of laundry. And the wasted effort of a hen's entire day. Yes! Clearly slipping the eggs into my pocket is a matter of convenience!

So why do we do the senseless thing we do?
Things that in no way benefit us...that in the end cause more harm than good...

I think because initially it seems so trivial, like slipping an egg into my pocket. And if nothing comes of it the first time, we do it again. And again. A habit forms. Then the egg breaks. But is that enough to make a change? No, because of all the times it didn't break. Perhaps next time it won't, and it's easier to slip it into my pocket...but is it easier to clean it up? Well, no, but perhaps this time it won't break.

Breaking an egg can be a good thing, depending on where, how and why it is done. There could be no cake without a broken egg. But in a pocket, a broken egg is a different thing entirely. The egg never serves the purpose for which it was given.

The same can be true of anger... it just slips into our hearts, and doesn't seem to cause any harm, like an egg in my pocket. There is no sin in anger. Anger is a feeling we have because we are made in the likeness of God. But, put it under pressure, and perhaps it bursts forth in yelling, like the yolk slipping from the shell. At this point, we have slipped out from under His covering, into sin. Sometimes nothing comes of it. We are alone, and venting our anger this way seems "harmless enough" so it becomes a habit, a dispostion, a foothold. Then when the pressure comes from another person harm is done. It is much more difficult to "clean up" words spoken in anger and words spoken have a way of echoing through time...
In your anger do not sin. Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold. Ephesians 4:26, 27
In your anger do not sin... search your hearts and be silent. Psalm 4:4

So there you have it. I begin writing about eggs, and end with a sermon on anger. Farm life is wonderful that way. Just as Jesus taught in parables...he still teaches me in parables. My days here astound me in the ways I learn about the heart of God...

I will make my best effort today carry my eggs (and my anger) purposefully...and hopefully change my habit (and my disposition!)

Even still, I am of the mind that barn coats should not have pockets!