Life is a Dash

The saga of the chickens continues at my house, but that’s not what this post is really about. We do have 16 new biddies that arrived last Friday. It's quite amazing to see how fast chickens grow. Just two months ago, these fellas (who are not my friends, just for the record)
looked like this:
Another little guy that has grown really fast is my daughter-in-love’s Morkie puppy, Bunker. I'm keeping him while the happy couple celebrate their first anniversary with a trip to Hawaii. (I tried to fit in the suitcase but that was not to be.) In Feb. when I kept him he looked liked this:
He’s grown like a weed:
It was hard to get pictures of these animals as they don’t stand still. The shutter on my camera is not fast enough.

Yesterday, I attended the memorial service for a friend’s husband. My friend delivered an amazing tribute to her husband. She started with parts of the well-known poem “Life Between the “Dash” by Linda Ellis.

I read of a man who stood to speak
at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
from the beginning...to the end.

He noted that first came her date of birth
and spoke the following date with tears,
but he said what mattered most of all
was the “dash” between those years. (1934 -1998)

For that dash represents all the time
that she spent alive on earth...
and now only those who loved her
know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own;
the cars...the house...the cash,
what matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our “dash”.

Whether it’s children or chickens, puppies or even your own mirror that mark the quickly passing time; in the midst of the busyness, may you experience the unhurried rhythm of grace.

Night of Terror

I don’t want to mislead you into thinking I was terrorized on Friday night. No, it wasn’t me. It was the peeps.

I woke up in the dead of night, as is my custom, prepared to lay there in the dark until sleep claimed me again. But I kept thinking I heard cheeping noises. I'm familiar with the normal night sounds of crickets and frogs, but as I strained my ears I felt pretty certain this was cheeps. I got out of bed and opened the back porch door to listen and then I was sure it was the peeps. So I shook Builderman awake and said, “Your peeps are cheeping when their supposed to be sleeping. You’d better check on them.”

I won’t give you the blow by blow details since I didn’t even want to know. But when Builderman came back in more than an hour later, the report was of massive casualties. Something had torn through the chicken wire and 12 of 15 chicks were dead or missing. Our first thought was that it was the coyotes that have been really close to the house recently. Here is the line-up of three perps. Which do you think is guilty of this crime?

A. Annie the Lab


B. Rocky Racoon



C. Wiley Coyote








We finally got back to bed and had almost drifted back to sleep when there was a clatter. Builderman jumped to his feet and grabbed the flashlight and ran outside to see red eyes glinting back at him from within the pen. He had placed boards over the torn chicken wire for a temporary repair at 2:30 in the morning and that sweet black lab pictured was busted… she was IN the coop. AGAIN. Our own dogs are guilty, guilty, guilty and have been in the dog house for days. Granted, they have a proclivity to hunt birds. Our expectations for their obedience exceeded the temptation that was before them. Hmmm. Sound oddly familiar?

All of this predatory activity around here really had me thinking, “what am I supposed to learn from this?”

preda•tory (pred′ə tôr′ē) adjective
1. of, living by, or characterized by plundering, robbing, or exploiting others

Does that definition bring to mind a scripture? Maybe John 10:10, which are some of those words in red letters?

“The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy.”

I’ve seriously pondered this whole thing for a few days and what I’ve learned is that we must be alert and vigilant. We have been given authority over the enemy but we have to speak it and enforce it. We will be safe as long as we don’t cower in fear, but we musn’t ignore the danger either.

The good news is the second part of the verse above! The warning is followed by encouragement,
“I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly.”

So there you have it. Our 3 remaining chickens are blissfully carrying on. They’ll have company soon as Builderman is not easily deterred. And we've embraced the spiritual lesson and are armed and vigilant.

So forget the terror. We're not chickens.
May you prosper and be in good health, even as your soul prospers.

Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch…

I interrupt the regularly scheduled account of my trip to Central America to update you on some events at home.

First, the good news. Lou-Lou had surgery on her broken hip 10 days ago and is bouncing back. We’re astounded. When the doctors ordered tests to be sure that her 102 year old heart could withstand surgery, they declared with astonishment that it was strong and healthy. I understand she’s in a wheelchair and going to the dining room for meals. I’ll be going to see for myself this week. Amazing.

My other news pertains to predators. We seem to have them around our property right now.

When I returned from my trip, Builderman informed me that our cat is gone. Seems a coyote took him out. Tigger was born in June 1999 to unknown parentage. Died June 2009. He was adopted from the animal shelter in fulfillment of a long-held dream of Cupcake's when we moved to a new area. Her dad was vehement about never owning a cat. She prayed. He let her get a cat. Tigger considered himself to be a cat-dog since he had lived outside since being banned from the house years ago. Among other misdeeds, he shredded a large portion of carpet when he was accidentally shut in a bedroom. I am happy now for all the cold mornings last winter when I would go out with towels from the dryer and create him a nest of warmth. He will be missed and is mourned most of all by Cupcake. (Excuse the photo- the dogs love centerstage & Tigger was content with backstage.)

That’s not all though. The lastest news on the chickens is not so good. First, an update on their living quarters. Builderman has constructed a movable chicken coop (called a tractor) that the peeps moved to. Here's what it looks like. This will be their vacation home for them to take turns using after the Cackle House is complete. When Builderman undertakes a project, he does it right. : )
Friday night we didn't get much sleep because of these little rascals. But since I try not to do long posts and my friend ADHD Me has put cliff-hangers into my mind today, you’ll have to come back tomorrow to read the rest of the story... titled "Night of Terror".

Hasta mañana.