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.