Take Shelter

IMG_20140429_142441_777 IMG_20140430_184934_945Because I’m here again, mothering chicks… this time the dog is 70 lbs. and these babes aren’t just visiting. They are here to stay. Cheetah, Zebra, and Olaf… lively little balls of fluff with a a door and a screen sheltering them from the jaws of the dog. Truly, I don’t believe Winston would harm them intentionally, but their lives are so fragile right now. Oblivious, they try to fly away, to hop places they shouldn’t, to scamper off somewhere other. Oh, how we are like that too. Independent, we don’t need guidance or protection or advice. Until we do. One of the great lessons of life may just be that it’s okay to run to the shelter, to fall on the knees of dependence, of constant prayer conversation with our father God.


Eggs in an incubator for three weeks. Preschool students making weekly field trips to visit the eggs. And then, on the anticipated day, listen, do you hear it? A chirp! There’s a tapping on that egg! Do you see the crack? Chicks, wet and tiny, start breaking free, triumphing over all the forces against them… being mailed, being jostled by preschool kids, chromosomal mishaps, the threat of unsustainable life, of being incompatible with life. The next round of worries begins for these little lives. The children gathered around, hovering over the incubator, marvel at how that little bird was once scrunched inside the egg. “How did it fit? How did it get there? Can I hold it?” So goes the steady stream of questions surrounding this birth, this new beginning. The marvel of life.

Twice a year, my son’s preschool goes through this ritual. We’re in the farm cycle right…

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