The Chicken Chase

Buttercup

Oh my gosh, I wish you could have seen this scene unfold the other day.

The ten girls free-ranged over by their run when all of a sudden, Buttercup-one of my Golden Comet chickens—fluffed her feathers, ran full speed, clucked, and charged towards my Moose. Now he's only about eleven pounds, and is shorter in height than the girls. This was the first time a chicken had charged him.

The look on his face—priceless. Half shocked. Half scared. But then, he had a change of heart and started to chase her. And since they all look almost identical, he ran after whoever was closest. That's when I had to spoil the fun and fuss at him for pursuing the girls. I don't think he'd harm one, but I can't have my critters injuring each other.

After replaying this scene over in my mind, an epiphany bloomed.

You see, Buttercup lives in a world with a pecking order. Now either she felt threatened by Moose or she protected a fellow sister, but she chose a serious response to his mere presence.

Moose

Moose is the only child in a pack with Hubby and me.  He loves to play chase with his dog buds when they visit. So after getting over the shock of a chicken bullying him, he decided she must be launching into his favorite game. He'd accommodate her and chase back.

They come from different worlds with different instincts and different agendas.

Sort of like us humans.

We've had different childhoods, different experiences, and different outcomes. 

And like Buttercup and Moose, we believe we know the agenda, the rational, or the struggles of another person--but in truth—we're usually clueless. Worlds apart.

We play games, when the other person craves authenticity. Or we joke, when they seek compassion. Or we blow up, when they only need a hug. Because we view them through our world-view-lenses, we misread and then respond incorrectly, sometimes leaving wounds. Especially with those closest to us—like a parent, child, spouse, or sibling.

How can we sincerely relate with each other? Less opposition, more cooperation. Fewer assumptions, more clarifications.  Less talking, more listening.

Again nature teaches a new life lesson, but the benefit of an epiphany is only realized if I remember to practice the new insight learned.

What about you? Have you had a new epiphany lately? Thanks for sharing. 

By the grace of God and perpetual spiritual and emotional renovation, Tammy Van Gils writes and blogs about Hope for the Everblooming Life at Tammyvangils.com. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers Association and Word Word Weavers International. Visit her on Facebook  and Twitter.