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I keep my cousin’s brooder in my office now. It takes up a great deal of space. I don’t mind. I watch my infant chickens with a sense of awe and gratitude. I will take care of them and protect them–and they will give back to me one hundred-fold.

Just a few days ago, I could rest my head against the top of the incubator and hear their distant-sounding pecks inside their shells.

It’s difficult to imagine how such a miracle occurs inside that shell, or how they ever fit in there.

I asked them what it was like in there, how they came to be, and what God was like.
And they thought about it for awhile.
Then they got all tuckered…..

….and collapsed to nap face-first in the straw….

….without telling me.
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"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
Make friends, ask questions, have fun!
Be a part of something big.
Prints and Free Wallpaper!
by BuckeyeGirl on February 11, 2012
by jbalt009 on February 11, 2012
by Leah's Mom on February 11, 2012
by MaryB on February 11, 2012
by Ross on February 11, 2012
"Cookies are good." Read my barnyard stories....
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awed, amazing, delightful…just loved
the pictures and sharing of new life.
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-Kim
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God bless ‘em every one!
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Tresh in Oklahoma
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They are beautiful!
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love the pictures
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How is Sugar? Is her little nose healing up?
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God through the eyes of a day-old chick. Now that’s a concept.
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Have a good day, Fern
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Fern, I keep the door shut so the cats can’t get into the office where the chicks are!
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Will never eat chicken again, now.
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“The kitchen was a big, pleasant room, with a high ceiling, a new cream-coloured Aga stove, and long windows made gay with potted geraniums and chintz curtains that stirred in the June breeze. The floor was of red tiles, covered with those bright rugs of hooked rag that make Northern kitchens so attractive. In front of the Aga was an old-fashioned fender of polished stel, and inside it, from a basket covered with flannel, came the soft cheepings of newly hatched chickens. The black and white cat asleep in the rocking chair took no notice of the sounds, or of the tempting heavings and buttings of small heads and bodies against the covering flannel.”
You make so many of the pictures in my head come true. Again, thanks!
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