spent hens

I know my blogs tend toward the darker, or more somber and serious side of life.  But I think I try to point out the "silver lining" around the dark clouds, to give hope where there may seem to be little or no hope.  The following is a good example of good coming from something that has little or no appearance of good.

We recently butchered all of our  Buff Orpington chickens because they were not being very good layers.  As an experiment of sorts we decided to get 25 "spent hens" from a chicken farm nearby that was getting rid of their layers because production was starting to decline. There are quite a few of these confinement chicken barns around here, owned by Amish Mennonites.  The farmer I work for owns one and I am often called upon to help out with his chicken chores.  To me, it is a travesty to raise any animal in the kind of confined conditions that most farm animals are raised in these days. Although the conditions may technically be called "humane", the fact that egg production begins to fall after only eighteen months is an indicator that these chickens are under unusually stressful conditions.  (Normally a healthy hen should be able to maintain egg laying capabilities for at least twice that length of time.) A friend had told us that we could buy chickens, cheap, from one of these operations that were getting ready to ship out their "spent hens", and that these hens could still continue to be productive for about another 6 months.  So we decided to give it a try.

Most of these spent hens truly look spent.  They are the sorriest hens you'd ever want to see.  Most of their beautiful tail feathers are gone, as well as the feathers around their necks and elsewhere, giving them an almost naked appearance.  Well, we were able to pick out some of the nicer looking ones of the bunch, but as my sister-in-law commented when she saw them, "they didn't look quite right."
But we were so encouraged when these 25 hens laid 14 or 15 eggs the first day, and since then have laid over 20 eggs in a single day.  And this is almost the middle of November when the days are getting shorter and the colder.  Normally, egg production drops at this time of the year, but ours was increasing.  The phrase, getting a "new lease on life," was certainly applicable to these hens.  At first their egg yolks were typically pale like the store-bought kind. But after a couple of weeks of being out in the fresh air and sun, and eating greens from the pasture, their yolks turned a nice, bright orange.  It was truly fun to see these confinement raised hens, at first hesitant and uncertain about being outside in the bright sunlight, turn into birds that couldn't wait to get out every morning and begin begin their day with all the sun, fresh air and greens they could get.

So, to all you "spent hens" out there . . . there is hope!  There indeed can be life after "confinement"!


   [Yahweh] said to me, "You are my servant . . .
      in whom I will display my splendor."
   But I said, "I have labored to no purpose;
      I have spent my strength in vain and for nothing . . ."
   This is what Yahweh says:
   "In the time of my favor I will answer you,
      and in the day of salvation I will help you . . .
   to restore the land
      and to reassign its desolate inheritances,
   to say to the captives, 'Come out,'
      and to those in darkness, 'Be free!'"
. . . But Zion said, "Yahweh has forsaken me,
      the Lord has forgotten me."
   "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
      and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
   Though she may forget,
      I will not forget you!"
                                         (Isaiah 49:1-16)

deliberate neglect

   As I was preparing a seedbed yesterday to plant a small nursery of chestnut trees, the thought came to me that this plot of ground represented "deliberate neglect".  I had grown vegetables there for several years and then had let it go fallow to give it a sabbath year of rest.  Of course it was quite overgrown with weeds and it took a bit of effort to clear the weeds and get it ready for growing the chestnuts.  But it was pleasing to see how nice and workable the soil was after allowing nature do her work.  Although that patch of land looked untidy and unattractive, nevertheless something very beneficial and restorative was happening all along.  Billions of micro-organisms, as well as insects, worms and nematodes had been at work, feeding on the decaying carbon matter as well as on each other, in an intricate give-and-take that characterizes every ecological niche of creation.  And it all results in greater soil fertility and a structure that can more easily absorb and hold on to rainwater. The weeds that grew there not only added their above ground foliage to the carbon matter that would end up as humus, but their roots, left to rot below the surface also added nutrients and food for the micro-organisms that thrive below the surface of the soil and also contribute to its overall life and health.  All these benefits, and more, from "deliberate neglect"!

   What encouraged me the most, though, in considering these things, was to realize that I was seeing a picture or metaphor of how God has been working in my life.  I could so easily become discouraged that "nothing is happening", that somehow I've missed God and my best years are behind me.  When so much time passes without seeing any fulfillment of promises God has given in the past, doubt and discouragement can begin to eat away at one.  It feels very much like deliberate divine neglect.

Is it possible, though, that just like the fallow ground that is overgrown with weeds and is looking anything but productive, that in reality something really is at work, unseen to our human eyes? Although death and decay is rampant in the ecosystem of the soil, that death is actually establishing the very foundation necessary for new life.  I call it the oxymoronic nature of truth.  To gain life one must give it up.

   "Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it abides alone.  But if it dies, it brings forth much fruit . . ."

  "That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, . . . being made conformable unto his death . . ."

   "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me! . . . Into your hands I commit my spirit."