08/09/2025
Early Wednesday morning, around 3:30 a.m., I found myself wide awake—restless, unsettled. Something in my spirit just wouldn’t let me rest. Then it hit me: we had forgotten to close up the chicken coop.
Farmer man got out of bed without hesitation and went outside. When he came back in, his face said it all—something was wrong. He quietly told me we had several headless chickens lying in front of the coop. I got up and joined him, heart heavy. One by one, we searched for any survivors. With each lifeless little body we found, our hearts broke a little more. In the end, only seven of our chickens survived.
We’ve made mistakes before—forgotten things, missed a step—but we’d always been spared the consequences. Not this time. This time, it hurt.
We cleaned up, hearts sore, and tried to move forward. And then, the very next day, something unexpected happened—I found our first egg. I should’ve been overjoyed. But instead, I just stood there and wept. The loss was still too raw. It didn’t feel like a victory, it felt like a reminder of what was missing.
As I went to close the coop that evening, the wind caught the door, and the egg slipped in my hands and cracked. I couldn’t help but look up and say, “Really? Now, *everything’s* perfect.”
The next day, another egg appeared. And today—three. It felt like God was gently whispering, “I’m still here. I haven’t left you. I see your pain—and I’m still giving you good things.”
The truth is, sometimes blessings come quietly, even after heartbreak. Sometimes you have to lose something precious to notice the grace that still surrounds you. I nearly missed the gift because my grief was louder than my gratitude.
But God—He shows up in the small things. In the eggs. In the stillness. In the moments when we feel broken, and somehow, still loved.
There is always a rainbow after the storm. And even when I didn’t feel ready to see it, God still painted it across my sky.
I’m humbled. I’m grateful. I’m blessed.
