Peep Peep

Posted on by

When our family moved from Chicago-proper to the countrified suburb of Wilmette in the late 1940s, we had an acre yard. A fruit orchard, vegetable garden, outdoor bar-b-q patio and grape arbor came with the property, and to our delight, it also had a miniature barn.

One Easter morning when I was 9, Mary, Tom and I came downstairs to the music of peeping baby chicks. Mom had bought a dozen of them from the local five-and-dime, each dyed a pastel color for the holiday. We bonded immediately.

Our chickens quickly outgrew their box and took up residence in the barn, and we hoped for eggs. We never got any, probably due to the abuse these poor birds suffered between pecking out of their own eggs and arriving at our barn, but they were a neighborhood sensation, and we loved each one.

One day a new chicken joined the group, a russet brown bird given to Dad by a friend.  When the other chickens pecked us, the brown one wanted to be petted and held. Dad became especially attached, and when it came time to turn the chickens into Sunday dinners, he struggled to include his brown buddy. In the end, all 13 got their heads lopped off with a neighbor’s ax, and chicken was frequently on the menu that winter.

When Nelson was 10, his school science class hatched several chickens from eggs. Afterwards, Nelson and his cousin Julia volunteered to each take one home, and a new generation was in the chicken business. Nelson kept Snowball in his room, and one of his regular chores was to clean up the endless white poo-poo.

We did our best to keep the cats away, but the risk of pet-violence became real, so Snowball eventually joined Julia’s chicken, Charlie, in a pen behind their house. Charlie was more docile than Snowball, who literally ruled the roost, pecking at poor Charlie until Snowball also met with an ax.

Now Julia and her sister Jo are encouraging chicken-generation #3 as their 5 children are back in business. Each bird gets a name, an outfit and an abundance of love. Julia’s best egg-layers were named Mary and Marni, quite an honor for us 60-something mamas.

*     *     *     *     *

Scripture includes a very serious reference to a chicken, spoken by an anguished Jesus as he overlooked his beloved Jerusalem. He used the example of a mother hen protecting her brood as a picture of what he’d hoped to do for the Jews: “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem!… How often I have wanted to gather your children together as a hen protects her chicks beneath her wings, but you wouldn’t let me.” (Luke 13:34) His heart ached for the Jews who’d made their choice not to gather round him as their Messiah but to crucify him instead.

Amazingly, he’s never withdrawn his mother-hen-offer. He’s still willing and eager to gather as many as will come, Jew and Gentile alike, to himself.

“He will cover you with his feathers. He will shelter you with his wings. His faithful promises are your armor and protection.” (Psalm 91:4)

Blessed to be Included

Posted on by

This family photo (taken at my niece Julia’s wedding) was the last one of our “Nyman 9.” Shortly after that our children began marrying, and before we knew it, grandchildren were making their debuts. Today we are 15 and counting, but isn’t that the way families grow?

Often I think of God as my heavenly Father. According to Scripture, Israel was his bride, and his Son Jesus opens the way for the rest of us to gain sibling status when we believe he is who he says he is. That makes God the Father of millions, if not billions of children, and his family continues to grow.

Bill Gaither wrote a song about the delight of being included in God’s growing crowd of relatives. One of the verses goes like this:

From the door of an orphanage to the house of the King,
No longer an outcast, a new song I sing;
From rags unto riches, from the weak to the strong,
I’m not worthy to be here, but praise God I belong!

The wonder of those words is that God gives us a way to belong. He certainly never had a need for us, and our thanks for being given life was to cause him unbounded trouble, disappointing him repeatedly through thousands of years that include even today. Yet the limitless love he has for us, a complete mystery, motivated him to go all out. The only born-one to God, Jesus Christ, surrendered his life, and God the Father agreed to this mind-boggling idea.

The Message puts it beautifully in Ephesians 1:2-4:

“How blessed is God! And what a blessing he is! He’s the Father of our Master, Jesus Christ, and takes us to the high places of blessing in him. Long before he laid down earth’s foundations, he had us in mind, had settled on us as the focus of his love, to be made whole and holy by his love. Long, long ago he decided to adopt us into his family through Jesus Christ. (What pleasure he took in planning this!) He wanted us to enter into the celebration of his lavish gift-giving by the hand of his beloved Son.”

I couldn’t have said it any better. And I can’t wait to be in the family photograph.

What to wear?

Posted on by

As a young mother, I worked hard to make sure my children were presentable when they went to school, church or anywhere else. The toddlers got their high white shoes polished every Saturday night, and I ironed all the little girl dresses and little boy shirts.

Outfits on school picture-taking days were especially important, and I tried to coordinate clothing colors with the eventual wall display of 8 x 10’s in mind.

Unfortunately I frequently forgot to look at the school calendar. One year picture day slipped past me completely, and the kids wore a haphazard array of shabby clothes. Klaus, then in his shark phase, had been given a white souvenir t-shirt from Florida with a picture of Jaws on the front and a splattering of fake blood on it. The shirt was a grungy white with a stretched neck, and completely unacceptable for picture day. But I didn’t catch it, and that’s what he wore.

I don’t think Klaus did it for any specific reason other than that he loved his shark shirt. When the picture proofs came back, I took one look and was disappointed, but Klaus saw only his great-looking hair. How could I then say, “I can’t believe you wore that awful shirt!”

This kind of thing is what drives moms crazy. But looking now at Klaus in his blood stained picture, I have to laugh. From today’s perspective, it’s no big deal. Actually, it’s a colorful story.

Buried in there somewhere is an encouraging word for today’s young mommies, not just on school picture day but any day. We mothers can get so caught up in our efforts to make our families look good that we’re swept into a parenting panic when they don’t.

The Bible reminds us that only one thing will matter in 100 years, and it’ll have nothing to do with our clothes. The important issue will be where we are, not how we’re dressed. Will we be spending the umpteen years of eternity with or without the Lord?

In the mean time, we shouldn’t let ourselves get stressed over things that eventually won’t matter. But if we’re into fashion and enjoy thinking about what our children will be “putting on” each day, rather than concentrating on them looking good, we can focus on their character. They put that “on” each day, too. Are they kind, patient, giving?

In the end, after all the polished shoes, ironed dresses and even the shark shirts are no more, character-clothes will still look good.

“Put on then… compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience.” (Colossians 3:12)