Teach us to number our days,
that we may gain a heart of wisdom. (Psalm 90:12 NIV)
As I write this, I am reflecting back across this day. I was on my way to accomplishing things on my to-do list when things started to go awry. Then haywire. By the time the morning was over, what should have been a simple 30-minute project had taken nearly the entire day. I also ended up taking one of the boys to the doctor, where we discovered that the medication prescribed at an Urgent Care visit 10 days earlier was not the right treatment for his ear infection. The infection had since worsened and spread to his throat. Sigh. Some days are like that.
So, instead of focusing on the crazy and stressful parts of this day — which, as I write this, is thankfully almost over — I am going to tell you about Roscoe. I think (hope!) by the time I finish writing and you finish reading, we will both be smiling.
For some context: we have chickens. Generally, our laying flock is somewhere between 20-35 hens. This past spring that seductive muse at Tractor Supply — the 50 cent clearance chicks — was singing its sirens’ song and, therefore, we “had” to get 30 more chicks. Ok, I thought. We do need to replace some egg layers, once they are laying we’ll have more eggs to sell, and maybe even some laying hens to sell. No problem.
But Roscoe.
About two weeks ago I realized one of our new birds was bigger than the others, had a larger comb on the top of the head, and – lo and behold! – had the strangest chicken voice I’d ever heard. Mind you, I am NOT an expert on chickens. But this voice was something else. Somewhere between a dog being strangled and a turkey being run over. Not a great sound.
I started to wonder if this particular chicken might, just might, NOT be a hen, but a rooster. As these past two weeks have progressed, I realized that, yes indeed, this “hen” is not a hen, but a rooster. I decided to name him Roscoe P. Coltraine.* If you know the television show “Dukes of Hazard” you’ll be laughing right about now. Like Sheriff Roscoe P. Coltrane, Rooster Roscoe P. Coltraine makes a lot of goofy noises, but doesn’t have a lot of brains cells behind all that gibberish.
I actually have wondered about giving him a little grace; perhaps as roosters mature, their voices change, just like a teenage boy’s.
So far, he’s mostly just learning to be the head of the flock of new hens. If he does a good job protecting them, and he doesn’t get aggressive towards us, he can stay. If not…I have an alternative ending to his story.
Why am I telling you all this? Do you care about our rooster? Probably not. But maybe, just maybe, you, too needed a smile and a dumb rooster story brought that to you.
I am not sure there’s much spiritual application here, except to say that God does want us to smile, laugh, and enjoy life. So, today, our invitation is to do just that.
God,
Teach us to number our days, enjoy the beautiful things, be aware of the humor of life, and enjoy the time, people, circumstances – and even roosters – you give us.
Amen.
*I intentionally didn’t spell his name correctly.