The shared family barn is also home to a dozen or so fretful laying hens and a vocal rooster. They are free-range, so they confidently come and go wherever they please, including Gordon’s stall.
Usually, I’m annoyed when I find chickens in or around Gordon’s stall. They somehow always find themselves underfoot, and find really inconvenient places to defecate. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has slipped or has deep-cleaned water buckets because of something similar.
But today, as I chased a hen out of Gordon’s stall, I noticed that she left a different kind of gift.
Nestled in the corner of Gordon’s stall, on a thick bed of wood shavings, sat a smooth, perfect, egg. I picked up the egg and studied it; I was a bit in shock and awe. This hen was brave enough to lay an egg in a stall shared with an animal 1,000 times its size, and I was fortunate enough to find the egg before it was destroyed. As silly as it sounds, I felt like I needed to take a moment to acknowledge and thank the hen for this small but significant offering. I felt that this small gift, even if given unknowingly, was a peace offering, peace between my sometimes trying relationship with the chickens, but also peace in my own mind that everything is going to be fine. I will get through the unknown the world is facing.
And it all started with an egg.
personal breathing space 