The Narrow Way

It was hot. We had already been working all day on our project. There was pressure to have things settled before night given the nature of things. It was also the day before my dad’s funeral…

The project was to move our grow out chicken coop and run from one side of the property to the other to create space for a shed to be built. The grow out coop, which we call “The Middle School,” houses our chicks from about 6 weeks old through several months when they’re big enough to integrate into the main flock. This is essential when raising birds, because pecking order is a real thing, introducing smaller birds to an established flock would be ugly.

Since we free-range all of our birds during the day, we had to prepare for this move as much as we could in advance. We decided we’d hold the 11 birds (4 ducks and 7 chickens) in our dog kennel as we moved the coop and then erected the new run. The birds had to be contained for the day otherwise they wouldn’t know where “home” was come evening.

As daylight began to dwindle, I started moving their food and water while my husband put the finishing touches on the netting. It was time.

I went to the dog kennel to get the first bird and haul it alllllll the way across our property to the new set up. As I entered the kennel, the birds went wild! There was clucking and quacking, flapping and scratching, and of course, poop being flung everywhere! Each one was doing it’s best to climb on top of the other and avoid my grasp, but they couldn’t. I set my gaze, and snatched up my target no matter how awkward the grasp was. With the exception of 1-2, they settled down as we walked to the other side. Once in the new run, they realized they were still safe as they flapped out of my arms and went to check things out.

These birds had never been on this side of our property. In a way, it didn’t even exist to them. It was completely unknown. As I took them, one by one, they no doubt thought I was taking them to the grave. Their little brains couldn’t possibly conceive of the fact that I–the one who fed them, provided shelter, water, and let them out daily–was actually continuing my goodness towards them. Not only was I looking out for their present needs, but we had taken time, planned, and worked to prepare a place for their future needs, the truth is–this new space–is better than the former. And while it is the same old coop–the run is better, bigger, safer, and has more shade.

Of course, it’s obviously too much for their little brains to understand this. And it was no doubt terrifying to them as each one was removed and they slowly lost the sound of quacking or clucking over the distance….

But oh the relief they must’ve had when they were re-united. Safely. Happily.

And as I was walking this out that evening, the day before my dad’s funeral, I couldn’t help but think of us. How the Lord literally goes before us to prepare a place for us…

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. ² My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? ³ And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. ⁴ You know the way to the place where I am going.” John 14:1-4

God has prepared a literal place, a “better coop” so to say, for each of us. His intention is to grab hold of us (much more gently, although some of us kick and scream a bit like my birds) and escort us to our heavenly home someday. He has room, it’s not limited or exclusive in that sense. In fact, the only way it is exclusive is that it is only available for those who believe and have put faith in His Son, Jesus Christ. When we do that, when we trust in Him for the forgiveness of ours sins and our eternal destination, He comes for us.

People have asked me since my dad’s passing “how are you doing?” And I’m sure they know it’s a loaded question and the answer depends on the time of day. If you’ve lost someone you love, you know that grief is like a roller coaster full of ups and downs and twists and turns. And while there are moments of sadness thinking of what we will miss or when looking at pictures, there is actually an inexpressible peace. Even joy at times, which seems weird to say. Not peace or joy because I want him gone, but because if it must be, then at least I know where he is. I know that my dad put his faith in Jesus, I know that Jesus is Faithful and True. I know that as scary and mysterious as death can seem sometimes, it’s actually little more than being carried off in the arms of a Good Shepherd from one side of the yard to the other. We can’t see it from where we sit. We’ve never been there before. We can’t hear from the other “birds” that get there before us. And all of that can be a little unsettling if you don’t know the One who is coming for you. But if you do–if you know Him personally–so many of the questions and fears can be stilled.

That other side, the side where my dad is now, it’s not just a mystical cloudy place where suffering ceases. It’s a real, physical place that is not only void of negative things, but it’s overflowing with positive things–peace, love, joy, and the full Presence of God. How could I be sad about that?

I don’t believe in coincidences either. I find it fitting that as I prayed for several days about what (if anything) to share at his service, that this happened. So often God speaks to me through my animals and the things I’m working on. I did wind up sharing this chicken coop story at his service, and here again now for my own remembrance, as well as for any who couldn’t make it.

Death can be scary for us as individuals, but also for our loved ones, especially if you live life far removed from it. Having been a hospice nurse for years, a lot of what happens on this side isn’t scary to me anymore. And the longer I know the Lord, the stronger my conviction is regarding the other side of life.

We don’t have to live life in fear of death.

“I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God so that you may know that you have eternal life.” 1 John 5:13.

I pray for anyone who reads this, that if you’ve never made the decision to trust Jesus with your eternity, that today you would, that you might have confidence when it’s your time. And furthermore, that your confidence would bring comfort to those you love in your absence.

Lastly, thank you to everyone who showed up. Thank you for the text messages, child care, meals, and the long drives some of you made just to show your love. My family is so grateful.

See you later, dad.