So yesterday was horrible. Nothing seemed right. I couldn't see how anything we had done had made any difference in our life. And I couldn't see how we could struggle and work so hard and yet, end up right where we had started.
You see, we made plans. Not grand plans to travel the world or buy everything we wanted. But plans that simplified our life, plans that helped us be more self-sufficient in this world of uncertainty, plans that let us at least provide some of our own food. We got chickens, ducks, geese, turkeys, and rabbits. We planted a garden. We built a green house.
And, we've worked hard.
Chickens don't feed themselves. Geese don't spread out new hay to sleep in (well, ok, sometimes they do but ). Rabbits can't change their water bottles. Gardens don't pull their own weeds.
And we didn't grumble.
We enjoyed ourselves. We entertained ourselves watching the antics of our growing birds and building the structures they've needed and experimenting with new garden chow. We like farming. It's what we'd really love to be doing full time. We are really looking forward to trying our hand at the green house this winter.
And after two years with no employment, my husband finally found a new job. It isn't a grand job with a corner office and a salary. But any job that's honest is great these days. We never imagined for a second that working as a night manager would turn into the nightmare it has. Through all of the lies, all of the unscheduled schedule changes, all of the not knowing what to expect or what was coming next, we just rolled with the punches, each one hitting a little harder and a little faster. We just rolled with the punches thankful for the job, thankful for the income.
But never did we imagine that my husband's life would be threatened.
We thought we were doing what was right. We've simplified our life. We've reduced our bills to almost nothing. We've worked hard.
And then we were devastated by the reality that my husband may have to quit the only job he's had in two years because of a threat to his life.
So I cried out to God, I cried out to anyone who would listen, I asked for prayer, ...
And, our chicken laid an egg. And for a moment, I forgot we were struggling, I forgot the fear of not knowing who might show up at my door, I forgot all of the hard work because our chicken laid an egg. Our first egg.
I cried and gave thanks. I know, it's just an egg and kind of a small egg at that. But it couldn't have come at a better time and it couldn't possibly ever have meant more.