Coincidence? Or Divine Providence?

You have searched me, Lord,  and you know me.

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You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.

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You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.

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Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely.

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You hem me in behind and before,and you lay your hand upon me.

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Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. (Psalm 139:1-6 NIV)

 Have you ever struggled with a decision you KNOW you need to make, but just did not know why or how or which way to turn? Or, have you felt like something, just something, was about to happen, but had no earthly idea what or when or why? And then, you finally made that decision, the decision you thought was so hard and you had no idea if you were making the right choice, but you prayed and prayed and walked with God and finally did it? And then, within seconds, minutes, hours, days, or even weeks, that decision was validated by a stream of incidences and situations?*

 *Note: Even if you did not walk with God to make the decision, and instead thought you would strike out on your own and trust your judgment and wisdom, the outcome was probably not so great. But even that would lead you to the same conclusion: God's will is inscrutable. But perfect. And only He knows the domino effect of decisions, only He can see the future (because He is omnipresent, in the future, past, and present), and only He knows our path, and tries to guide us along it (despite our stubbornness and selfishness).

Okay, I can see you all nodding here, saying "Yes, yes, that happened to me last week," and "Oh my goodness YES!," or even "Sigh, I sure wish I would have listened to God's still small voice to begin with. I could have avoided a huge mess." Stories abound about how when we try to walk in God's wisdom and ways, unforeseen happenstances arrive later and we are reassured that yes, God is omnipotent, omniscient, and the creator of the universe so we should walk in His footsteps along the paths He has laid. Also as prevalent are the stories (I can think of several!) where people ignore the cues and the guidance before us, depending on our own flawed, incomplete, and fallible wisdom, and suffer because of it (and hopefully learn to heed God's infallible and perfect wisdom the next time.

All of this is to share some events of the past few months, and how God has brought it all together to amaze me with His goodness and foresight. For months I have struggled with health issues, fraught with uncertainty, confusion, and frustration, while simultaneously I wanted to get away and embarked on a sort of spiritual wilderness to seek Him, get closer to Him, and find out what I needed to know. I felt the urge and need to reach out to a friend I had not long spoken to, to heal a rift, and inevitably to schedule a visit. While there, I felt something prick my soul, an unease with the situation, and, unsure why, I rescheduled my return flight to get home nearly three days sooner.  I could not explain the urge--it was a feeling of unease, tension, uncertainty, a vague nagging that I had to get home. Within hours of changing my flight, the following happened:

• the nurse called from my doctor's office informing me the long-awatied procedures were scheduled for the following week. These procedures necessitate five days of preparation,  a three-hour trip 24 hours prior to stay near the hospital (in Winston Salem), and a chaperone.  A very dear friend signed up for that before I could even ask the whole question
• my husband informed me he would be gone during that procedure to help our daughter in Mississippi with her fundrasising event next weekend
• our friend who was helping Alex take care of the dogs learned her father had just suffered a stroke; she would no longer be able to take care of our dogs Monday (the day I'd have been flying home)
• because a bear was continuing to terrorize our chickens, decimating the flock to one poor little hen, we needed to find someone to adopt her. Another dear friend volunteered to take her.

As hard to follow as that may be for many readers (or maybe not hard...I dont know how lucid this all sounds), all of these things reassured me that yes, I made the right decision to come out here, to reconnect, to withdraw early, to change my flight at the last minute. And reinforced how beautiful is God's perfect plan.

For my thoughts are not your thoughts,

    neither are your ways my ways,”

declares the Lord.

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“As the heavens are higher than the earth,

    so are my ways higher than your ways

    and my thoughts than your thoughts. (Isaiah 55:8-9 NIV)

The Frailty of Life, part two

A little over three years ago I penned about my decision to raise chickens, the joy I shared with granddaughters as they each selected their chicks, the excitement we all felt, the responsibility for caring for God’s creatures, and how frail living things can be. We mourned the loss of two babies before they were even two weeks old.  The kids named all the babies: Petunia, Pearl, Buttercup, Charcoal, Creamsicle, Clutch, and even held funerals for the ones who didn’t survive (Petunia and the First Pearl). I stayed up all night once to nurse Creamsicle to health, feeding her electrolytes and eggs with a medicine dropper every two hours. 

Then later my husband built a wonderful and very safe habitat complete with a coop and nesting boxes, all butted up against the back of his garage Mahal; the chicks grew into pullets and out of their brooder and graduated to their new digs.  Wanting more than five hens we adopted a couple of teenagers (Honeycomb and Penny, more affectionately known as Lion Tamarind) from a local teen and introduced them to their new family.  We fussed over what made the best coop flooring and how to keep them all safe, bought a treadle feeder, made a watering station, and waited for that first egg. That summer  Sophie discovered that first egg and we were ecstatic; by fall all seven hens were experienced layers, blessing us with multicolored pastel eggs unique to their particular breed. 

All four granddaughters adored those chickens and spent hours digging up clover, grubs, pillbugs, and worms for the daily chicken buffet. I bought chicken harnesses and leashes (Amazon of course) and walking the chickens became a highlight of every visit.  We tracked egg laying by assigning Sharpie colors to each chicken, marking the calendar each day; some days we collected eggs from each one, and even the kids became experts at identifying which egg came from what chicken. I taught the girls the nuances of chicken behavior: broody hens were quickly subjected to a cold bath and isolation, and when the kids were alarmed at the hens burying themselves in the dirt, I taught them about “dust baths.”  When kids were visiting, they were my biggest helpers, and soon earned the title of “chicken whisperer in training” complete with t-shirts making them part of Nana’s Brood.  Even Mandy got into the fray, helping by cleaning the coop while I was recuperating from knee surgery. 

Phone calls, letters, and video chats always included news about chickens: who was laying the most eggs, was Buttercup broody again, and was I giving them treats?  Charcoal was renamed Katie after my pet sitter who had to rescue the poor thing from being trapped in the feeder.  Birthday cards were embellished with drawings of chickens and funny rhymes were made (“have an eggcellent day”). 

Chickens became part of my daily life and a source of joy.  

Until that night, the night Alex came in after walking the dogs, saying “I have some bad news,” walking me down to the coop at 11 pm.  The run was ripped open (hardware mesh) and feathers were everywhere, the coop door had been ripped off, and I could only count six chickens—five alive and poor Li Li dead on the ground.  Pearl was nowhere to be found. A black bear was the culprit.  Alex stayed up late to repair the habitat, but less than ten days later the coop was eerily silent Sunday morning…a quick inspection revealed the bear had returned, and this time he took four of the remaining five; only Clutch was left.  

As heartbroken as I was (and still am) over the loss I am infinitely more saddened for the granddaughters, to whom I had to break that dreadful news not once, but twice. They were sad and tears were shed, and we each tried to comfort the other. We celebrated the survival of Clutch and talked about whether I’d continue to have chickens. I’m torn. I love having these crazy birds, but I cherish that special bond with Lydia, Molly, Isabella, and Sophie.  Alex says he’ll build a better run and coop;  we’re even contemplating an electric fence to deter Mr Bear. Crazy, I know. And no, they’re not my idols nor do I assign human qualities to them. I do believe, though, that our Creator put all creatures here for our enjoyment and entrusts us to steward them; caring for them has taught me things about myself and yes, has made my life more complete.  

Yes, life is frail, but that only makes us cherish living even more. Oh the memories that we made!