Destination Discipline

Sometimes our need exceeds our language to express it. It may be that our pain is so profound, or that we are stunned into silence. It may be that we don’t understand the situation or that we are confounded by agony. The truth is, we don’t always have language to think, much less vocalize, our suffering. We simply know we need help. The wonderful news is, there is a God bigger than our biggest sorrows.

I have chickens. 5 of them, to be exact. I happened into chickens when my son came to live with us a few years ago while going through a painful divorce. He had two chickens he had raised from babies and rather than find a new home for them, I told him to bring the coop and we’d take care of them.

Dutchess and Lucky provided more hours of entertainment than anything I found on television. You see, I grew up in the suburbs so I never had a chicken. I had to learn everything from scratch. I discovered they loved peanuts, sunflower seeds and lettuce. Every day before work I chopped up greens and put them in the coop, and every day after work I let them out to forage bugs from the lawn and eat treats out of my hand. We quickly discovered the wonder of fresh eggs and decided to add four chicks to our flock. I will never forget the joy of holding my first chick and the pleasure of teaching them I was worthy of their trust. We lost a chicken in the spring of 2024 and have happily settled with our five girls.

If one has never owned a chicken, one would never know how intelligent they are. They are also fast. They can run, fly, and hunt. They generally don’t like to be held or petted. Still, when I call them, they run to me because chickens are extremely food motivated. Just like me!

The chickens all began to molt late last Fall. Dutches was first, but the rest followed suit. Molting is a very painful process for a chicken. Not only do they lose all their feathers, they lose half their body weight as well. I think this happens because of the calories required to grow a gillion new feathers. When the pin feathers begin to grow in, it hurts the chicken a lot. They nibble at the pin feather and made sad lamentations. They are pathetic. Not unlike Job, they sit around and “scrape” their wounds.

The late molt coincided with a deep freeze across the midwest. I quickly discovered bald chickens don’t do well in an open coop outside. I came up with a quick solution in the form of a large dog crate filled with wood shavings. My basement is unfinished and as long as I monitor them and clean up quickly, the mess doesn’t get out of hand. I quickly learned the joy of having pet chickens with one notable exception, a chicken is not shy about expressing its feelings and can make an awful lot of noise.

They make soft clucks when they are happy. They purr when they are filled with gladness of heart. But when they are in distress, they make a loud “rawrk rawrk” noise. This usually happens if they are getting ready to lay an egg, but it also happens when they feel threatened or are in pain. I’ve come to recognize that noise, so when they make it, I run to see what is wrong and attend to their needs. This noise saved Dutchess’ life the night she didn’t make it into the coop and a possum tried to eat her. Her loud cries woke me up and I dispatched that critter to the other side of the fence. I thank God she was not seriously injured and only lost a few tail feathers. Needless to say, my ears are very attuned to the cries of my chickens. Why? Because I love them so much!

Our Father in Heaven is also attuned to the cries of his children. Not unlike a chicken who is having trouble laying an egg, He hears us bawking. He never turns a blind eye to our tears. And when the dark nights of the soul arrive in all their blackness, He is still there listening, watching, and loving us beyond our capacity to understand or maybe even sense His presence. He is real. He is good. He is kind.

“If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,’ even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you.” – Psalm 139:11-12

I have been experiencing a great deal of pain for the past few months and have done my share of bawking. And, as I shall write about in my next post, I have doubted the goodness of God. But his provision will never be less than my need requires. In the fullness of time, He has gently guided me through the pain to arrive at a ‘fully-feathered’ life experience. Just as Dutchess survived her months-long molt, I too am revived by His tender mercies and grace.

If you are reading this and you are sad or grieving, please know that you are not alone. If all you are able to do is cry or maybe even utter a loud, “Help!” God hears you. He will run to your aid. He has promised, and this promise is sealed with the blood of His son.

”In my distress I called upon the Lord; to my God I cried for help. From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears.” – Psalm 18:6

For good measure, I am including a picture of Dutchess post molt. And I also have to add, because of my tender care of her while she was in pain, she has come to regard me with new tenderness and affection. Not unlike how I come to regard my Father because of His care for me in my distress.

Dutchess in her splendor with new feathers

The holidays have arrived, and with them all the beautiful, tantalizing temptations. Nostalgia fueled dreams fill the senses as I drive through my neighborhood and think of years gone by. For there is nothing I love more at this time of year than holiday lights, Christmas cookies and gifts. Alas, I still view Christmas through the eyes of a child which is, I suppose, how we all view it–for better or for worse.

I’ll never be as good at creating the Christmas experience as my mother is. And that is what it’s all about, right? It’s our responsibility as parents or spouses to create (or top) the experience our parents created for us. Even if we didn’t have a wonderful childhood experience around the holidays, we work overtime to give that to our friends and families.

The Christmas Eve service at church was one experience that was very powerful for me as a child. We would sing Christmas carols and remember the birth of Jesus. That candlelight service inspired hopes and wishes that filled my young heart with wonder. But that experience was less about Jesus and more about what came after the service. We would drive around and look at lights on houses and then have cookies before bed. To this day, I’m uncomfortable not eating cookies at the holidays. And more than that, I still slip into bed on December 24 with the knowledge that Christmas morning brings candy and toys. It still inspires a kind of jittery joy that makes my heart rattle with excitement.

But the thing so many people don’t talk about around the holidays is the pressure to make everything perfect. The house needs to be decorated, food needs to be prepared, and cookies and pies suck untold hours from the lives of those making them. Every year I spend days and weeks doing things to make this perfect experience and on December 26th, I unravel it all back into dusty cardboard boxes and plastic tubs while everyone withdraws with their “spoil” and goes back to their regular lives. All the “Christmas magic” dissipates in a blink. Or if I could be so crude, Jesus takes off his Santa hat and is relegated to the role of “guy in blue and white robe with a manly, manicured mane.”

There’s a lot to be said about the beauty of traditions, but this blog is not that. Candidly, a few days ago I found myself wishing I could fast-forward to December 26th. Why? Because it’s all so darn overwhelming. I don’t enjoy decorating, shopping makes me so anxious I may as well break out in hives, and I get the sweats when I even think about having to bake cookies I shouldn’t eat (but always do). I make so many sacrifices for my family–to make their holidays lovely–which is good, but it usually ends up with me getting physically sick right as January hits from the sheer exhaustion of it all. I’ve tried minimizing, shopping early, not decorating, or just plain begging my family to skip Christmas (which they never agree to). And here we are, December 8th. And the “heat” is on!

The “heat” is the pressure of creating a mood. It comes from a commercially minded culture hell bent on getting their fair share of my wallet. This chafes me. The nonstop marketing, selling and buying, and pretending some of us aren’t depressed, anxious and overwrought with stress. Meanwhile, the real Jesus is probably shaking His head from His glorious, glittering throne.

Because Christmas is not a mood, or a feeling, or a perfectly wrapped present next to a fake tree. Christmas is the moment we should remember when God entered the world and became part of the story. His life and ministry are REAL hope and cheer. He is a God who loves people with food addiction, depression and anxiety. He sees our brokenness and childhood trauma. He takes our shame and all the scorn we heap at him by pretending there’s a fat man in a red suit throwing gifts down chimneys. As if that’s real joy! He is the author of life and has made a way for us to live with Him for all eternity in paradise. It’s the great, good, glorious news–the best news humanity has ever received! Immanuel. God with us. Jesus is the gift for a sin saturated society. He is the cure for our deceitful hearts. Because everything I think I love about the holidays is really all just carefully crafted narratives with nonsense origins. The true story is God-made-flesh, reaching out a holy hand to humanity with a love so pure we can’t even begin to imagine how beautiful it really is. The stories handed down from generation to generation are true. We are loved. We are safe in His arms. Nothing can separate us from this love in Jesus Christ. Incredible.

So today, if you are like me, dreading the next few weeks and filled with fear and worry–fret not. Close your eyes and breathe in the beauty that is our Lord and Savior. No matter how big or small your holiday meals, no matter if you decorate or even clean, regardless of your cookies or crafts or shopping–He is Lord! Celebrate the way you feel led and trust that He is who He said He is.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”

I was lied to as a child. The lies are innumerable, of course. Adults would say, “You can be anything you want to be.” What if I wanted to be a bird or a fish? Flying and breathing under water appealed to me as a child. I realize adults want to motivate children to think beyond their boundaries or perceived limitations but why not use speak the truth? Words can and do hurt. Misused words by people have caused many people to guard their hearts and minds. Why? Because people fear pain.

This week at work I dared to share my frustrations with one of the leaders in my department. I could not get my daily work done because the big bosses kept handing down “small tasks” (their words) that took much longer than they said they would. It was causing me a lot of anxiety because I had real deadlines and I was afraid I couldn’t meet them. I say “dared” because I have been afraid to share anything like my real thoughts or feelings to the leaders in my area for a long time. Sharing my real thoughts caused me a lot of problems last year, but this year silence has kept me safe. The boss I spoke with about my frustrations listened and acted like they cared. I felt heard, cared for, and valued. I was even able to sleep well that night. But the next day I had an email “encouraging me” to work with a business coach. The suggestion felt like a command. It implied my frustrations in the workplace had more to do with me being a bad employee than leaders leading poorly.

Everything is fine.

Santa Claus is real.

Coke Zero is good for you.

The universe has a plan for me

I have been listening to some interesting podcasts recently and one big takeaway is people have a lot of faith in the universe. One filmmaker I follow says what you put out into the universe will come back to you. I’ve been thinking about this a lot. Do the words I use have so much power that when I speak they come to life? This seems to be a belief many people have–especially Christian people. Words of affirmation are pretty popular. Is the universe a benevolent entity that cares for me as it does all of nature? Is everything connected in such a way that peace and harmony flow after we say positive words? I am curiouser and curiouser.

When I stand under the night sky and stare up at the stars, I feel very small. When I consider the vastness of space, I wonder about my place in it. Jiminy Cricket was the minstrel of my childhood and sang, “When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are, anything your heart desires will come to you.” The words are pretty enough and when accompanied by a melancholy tune, they really tug at the heartstrings. It feels good to think this way, to wish this way, to hope this way. I can be lulled to sleep by this, wishing upon a star that all my dreams will come true. But Jiminy Cricket was a liar too.

“Well, Margaret, that’s because when you said your words of affirmation, you didn’t have enough faith. It’s your fault.”

Is there anything more painful than a friend who tells me things aren’t well in my life because I don’t have enough faith? Worse, the friend who says, “I can’t be around you anymore because your negativity is bringing me down.” Maybe it’s time I stopped being friends with people and start being friends with the universe.

The universe is filled with glorious sunrises and sunsets. It produces shooting stars and gaseous, glowing planets. The universe is big and therefore friendly. It doesn’t chide or coerce. I really kind-of like this idea of the universe. And since I am in awe of this wonderful universe, I have decided to pray to it for something very small. I have asked the universe to make the sweetgum tree in my backyard stop producing gumballs. After all, the gumballs don’t really serve any purpose other than pain. They collect in the yard and make walking treacherous. I could break my ankle, for Pete’s sake! Surely the universe will hear my prayer and urge the tree to surrender to my will. “No more gumballs.” I will pray this five times a day for a week and certainly the universe will hear all 35 statements and honor my request. If I place my faith in the universe, it will not disappoint.

And you know why? Because all the successful people I listen to on podcasts claim the universe helped them to be successful. Therefore, it must be true! Because the all-powerful universe is wonderful! Their success had nothing to do with talent, or luck, or hard work, or intelligence or common grace. Because people are always, you know, honest. Especially when they say things like, “You can be anything you want to be.” It only takes one audition on American Idol to prove this theory false. Just ask Simon Cowell.

I prefer a terrible truth to a beautiful lie any day.

Or what about this one, “Honestly is always the best policy.” Not really. If you tell your boss he is bossing badly, it will not end well for you. The best policy is to shut up and suck it up or find another job.

But that’s not really the point. The point is, often times lies are really convenient. We believe them because we want to. They stop us from asking the real questions. Parents use them to stop children from asking pesky questions they prefer not to answer. Bosses use them to defer employees from holding them accountable to lead well. But what’s really terrible is that when people tell us beautiful lies, they stop us from getting answers to the real questions. Because do you want to know what I really think when I wonder if the universe has a beautiful plan for my life? I think if I entrust myself to the universe, I’m about as safe as a deer drinking out of an alligator infested pond.