My hardworking hens have been enjoying some extra freedom lately. I had been keeping them locked up until noon, so they wouldn’t squirrel their eggs away, but I decided to give all-day free-ranging a try, and these hens are well trained, obediently returning to the coop to lay their eggs.
As silly as I’m sure some think I am, I love my little flock of chickens, and the joy in the colorful basket of eggs at the end of the day doesn’t wear off, or the satisfaction in feeding my family, or of being able to provide friends and neighbors with delicious, homegrown eggs. The hens all have funny quirks and habits, like racing down to the horse corral in the morning to try to get in on breakfast, or coming running when they see me walking down from the house with a bucket, and it is such a peaceful sight to look down at the coop in the afternoon when they’re all spread out across the yard scratching contentedly away.
After all, it really is the little things.
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It has been so fun to see my writing and photography taking off over the last year, this year in particular! And I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge how big of a thing it is to have a loving husband encouraging me in my endeavors!
After the vendor markets earlier this summer, I decided to take the plunge and sign up for the Buffalo Roundup Arts Festival in Custer State Park at the end of this month. A little daunting, super exciting, and it is coming up so fast!
Here are some of the card bundles I was working on today. Aren’t they cute?
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As Christians living in a fallen world, we are used to living with the tension of the already-but-not-yet state of the Kingdom of God. We face the daily, painful reality of the already-but-not-yet state of our own hearts, as […]
If you haven’t already visited Jack’s site and followed it, follow the link above! Jack produces great devotional material on a weekly basis, sure to be encouraging in your walk with the Lord. Thanks as always for reading!
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Every morning, I walk down to the chicken coop to feed and water the hens, and every evening I gather up my little basket of eggs and take them up to the house to sort them, the small ones to keep and the big ones to sell. It is such a small thing, but a pleasure, and a consistent and daily reminder of God’s provision.
How easy it is for me to get caught up in my own little mind, distracted by cares and concerns and worries, or at times even more profoundly distracted by good things. Those hopes and dreams and the good sort of “what if,” looking ahead at the future hopefully and faithfully, but somehow missing what’s happening right now. I don’t ever want to be so caught up in thoughts of the future that God’s daily provision goes overlooked or unappreciated, or that His daily provision seems to me to be commonplace.
I am just so thankful for those daily reminders of God’s faithfulness now and, as easily as distraction can creep in, I never want to become numb to those things. Those little but not insignificant God-given joys that can become “normal” if we’re not careful. I am so thankful for the pair of brown eyes looking at me over his coffee cup in the morning. I’m thankful for a way to provide for ourselves, and our beautiful home, and a productive garden. I’m thankful for the beauty of the changing seasons, the different flavors that spice the air, the amazing bouquet of colors as the leaves change and the flowers grow and die. I’m thankful for the critters, for the bickering cats, the horses and the mother cows with their babies, for the chickens and the endless amusement they provide.
And for the day’s dozen.
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This Christmas wasn’t been “as planned” in any way, shape, or form. Initially, I was quite disappointed that I’d be having to work on Christmas Day, especially with a new fiance, a sister about to get married, and almost-inlaws to spend time with. I’ve been feeling pretty worn out and run down with work lately, and I wasn’t looking forward to a holiday week, during which I would be exhaustedly trying to keep up the energy to see people and share in the fun and joy of Christmastime while recovering from 24 hour shifts on an ambulance.
Well, a week ago I started feeling puny and got tested for Covid, at the request of my work. Sure enough, I had Covid and was promptly put on quarantine. My family wanted nothing to do with me, since there’s a wedding in two weeks, but my fiance also came down with Covid, and in God’s graciousness it was mild for both of us. We spent our first Christmas together after all.
We’ve already begun making traditions that we will carry into what we trust and pray will be a Christ-honoring marriage. We have been reading an Advent devotional since December 1, which I’m sure will become a tradition for us. We cut and decorated a beautiful spruce tree. We’ve watched It’s a Wonderful Life, and listened to a radio theatre adaptation of Charles’ Dickens beloved Christmas Carol. We’ve baked, and cooked, and worked on a wintry puzzle, a birthday gift to me from his mom. And our Christmas Day, though not what either of us would have chosen, was likewise delightful.
We made crepes for brunch, with homemade yogurt and the last jar of my homemade plum jam from a few summers ago. We also had homemade ricotta cheese and sausage that my rancher man and his brother-in-law made. It was a lovely start to the day. We finished our puzzle, drank coffee, exchanged gifts, went on a walk, made wedding plans, and ate a wonderful dinner of pork roast, grilled cabbage and sweet potatoes, and rice pilaf. We finished the day watching Murder on the Orient Express, an excellent movie for a winter evening.
This Christmas and holiday season is challenging for a lot of people right now. So many people are sick, and beloved Christmas plans and traditions have gotten sidelined in an effort to keep people as healthy as possible. But if those temporary disturbances distract us from the truth of Christmastime and steal our joy, we have repenting to do. The fact of the matter is that the God of the Universe willingly gave up the comfort and perfection of Heaven to stoop to become a mortal man, for the express purpose of dying a grusome death on our behalf, to give us a salvation we could never earn. Don’t let either the enjoyment of this time of year, or the disappointment either, distract you from that.
In spite of everything, this was indeed a Merry Little Christmas.
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