Between Furs and Feathers
Humility Mountain was home to two German Shepherds and 27 one-day old chicks and we loved everyone of them. Without any children in the family and five adults in one house our dogs captured our undivided attention and absorbed every emotion we projected for eight years. They each competed for attention and needed their individual space. They slept in our bedrooms, let me fix that, pushed us out of our beds. Their possessiveness of us caused a breach in a beautiful friendship since their excessive mandible usage caused their expulsion from the main house and into the Dog Motel which abuts our house. Every conversation in the house was answered by the dogs. They howl, bark and whimper at every comment they deemed interesting.
There were dreams of showing them in contests - not to be. There were plans of mating them with the best-lineage girly dogs - did not happen. Or train them to lead sheep - yeah right! Every plan we made for those dogs' purpose with us went to pot. The dogs were our guards period. When we bought a wooded property on top of a mountain with many pretty birds and flowers, abounding in rabbits and deer... well, the mountain also included bears. It seems the dogs' presence has kept the bears at bay and not even our kitchen scraps in the trash have been disturbed by the bears due to the dogs.... thanks to God's plan.
And now our harmonious arrangement has been disturbed by.... chicks. Cute, cuddly and very noisy chicks. I tried taking them to the dog motel for the dogs to see. On second thought, I shouldn't have picked up a yellow chick that reminded them of their tennis balls. Well, at least they just snorted at them.
Forbidden to name any chick since they were to be our future food supply, I disobeyed and became emotionally attached to them. I didn't really name them... individually that is. I group named them. There are the eight chipmunks, the two blues (Andalusians), the two crested-ones (Golden Polish), the two fluffies and the EEs (Easter Eggers) and as on Gilligan's Island... "the rest". Due to disease or weakness in transit we lost one chick and three visited our intensive care unit for a time.
I've noticed something curious: Since they have no mother hen and they cuddle for protection I used to spread out my fingers and lay down my hands over the multicolored cotton balls with legs; all 26 of them! Those closest to the hands' fringes immediately fought for center space. If I press down just a bit I can feel them pressing back up. If I press down only a tad more they began to deflate much like an air mattress loosing solidity. They gave in and fell asleep in seconds. The first time I tried this I thought I'd suffocated them, but it seems this brings security and rest. The dogs also sleep much better once they are locked up or mom and I sit with them in the mornings after breakfast. Instead of them guarding us they fall sound asleep while we keep watch over them.
It seems to me people are the same way. It is a shame more people cannot rest in God. Knowing His immense hands are pressing down on us a tad can seem at first suffocating and we must liberate ourselves... prove that we can make it without Him. We are allowed to escape through His fingers if we choose. He doesn't force us. He knows we need Him to rest so He tries to press down once again and, if we give in and deflate our egos, we will be like those feathery puff balls on stilts that fall asleep and rest for the next adventure. Another lesson learned on Humility Mountain.