On Little Scraps of Paper

A place to share my writing

Showing posts with label Teacher/Preacher. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Teacher/Preacher. Show all posts

As a Hen

As a Hen Gathers Her Chicks

Matthew 23:37 O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing.

When Jesus spoke these words, His audience knew immediately what he was saying. They could easily conjure the mental picture because they had hens with chicks in their yards. While the words are timeless, too many people no longer have the daily contacts with nature that give substance to the word pictures Jesus often gave us. How many of you have actually watched a hen gather her chicks? The chicks can be scattered hither and yon, scratching for seeds, chasing bugs, whatever; but when danger approaches, the hen clucks a command and they all come running to the shelter of her wings. She tucks them under her and hunkers down to cover them completely.

Bitty was a small gray speckled Bantam hen. She was my pet. Each spring she would hide a nest somewhere away from the chicken house where no one would gather the eggs and she could hatch a brood of chicks. She would be gone for weeks but about the time I had become convinced that a coyote had gotten her, she would return to the chicken house trailed by a dozen or so fluffy chicks. I remember one year when we had a late spring blizzard. Spring blizzards in Nebraska are heavy, wet snows sometimes 8-10 inches deep. When Daddy went to care for his animals the morning after the blizzard, he heard muffled peeping coming from the other side of the corral fence. He had walked along the fence a couple of times before he spotted Bitty’s small grey head sticking out of the snow beside one of the railroad-tie posts in the sturdy fence. He dug out a space around her and gently lifted her. Ten toasty warm chicks were suddenly exposed to a blast of bright, chilly air. Bitty began clucking insistently. Even sitting in the snow beside her nest she was trying to tuck the confused chicks under her wings.

As a hen gathers her chicks . . . God calls us, commands us to come running to the protection of His wings. He longs to gather us, to protect us, to shelter us. As the storms swirl around us, we need to listen for and heed His call.

Lord, give us ears to hear and as we are sheltered, let us reach out to offer shelter to those who might not hear your call.

In The Chapel

IN THE CHAPEL

The chapel at Regional West Medical Center is not on any of the main hallways. I couldn’t find it on any of the signs. The rack labeled “Hospital Maps. Take One” was empty. But I knew there was a chapel and so I set off to find it. Finally, I spotted a sign “Chaplin” and next door was the chapel.

In the front is a stained glass wall. There is a small wooden altar with a wooden cross on it. There are about 20 chairs facing the front and some shelves or files in the back. I did not sit down but instead leaned against a small partition resembling an arch support.

I let the warm air and the diffused light envelope me. I poured out the fears and anxieties. I remembered the joys and the sorrows, the work and the fun, the triumphs and the defeats of the past 47 years. I named the plans we have made for the future. I recounted the many blessings because we’ve always tried to walk on God’s path.

In the deep, undisturbed silence of the little chapel, I felt God embrace me, I remembered the hardest prayer of all but the one that makes all the difference. Relinquishment. “Oh, dear Lord, as much as I love this man, I love You more. Thy will be done.”

I don’t know how long I stood there. Soon, “How Great Thou Art” came bubbling up from the depths of my being, followed immediately by “Amazing Grace.” I left the chapel totally surrounded by peace and calmness. I returned to ICU and the vigil at the bedside of my beloved, no longer afraid of what is happening because whatever is coming, God is already there. Our son says, “She’s stubborn.” The Doctor says, “No, she’s stoic. There’s a difference.” I prefer “serene.” Stubborn or stoic, my serenity comes from knowing that everything is in God’s control and that I am loved. And, God is good!