I really enjoy watching our ducks.  We have two of them and I find them absolutely delightful to watch.   But I also feel a twinge of sorrow for them when I see them plop themselves into a little bucket of water and splash around.  They’ll take turns doing that since it’s such a small container.   Then they’ll waddle off together.

When Molly holds her duck, (it is quite attached to her since we’ve had them when they were only a week old) the other one will quack with increasing urgency until they’re reunited.

Molly enjoying "Wak Wak" the duck

One thing I’m learning watching our fowl…(chickens too) but especially the ducks….they live in the moment.  When we head out to feed them, they come flocking to you with expectancy but I don’t get the feeling they were hanging out there wondering if they were going to get fed.

When they’re done feeding, they wander around doing what chickens do.  Sometimes staring down their fellow peeps till something breaks the spell and they go back to scratching and pecking the ground. (THAT is hilarious to watch and all too reflective of human behavior at times.)  The roosters will chase the hens….the big rooster chasing off the little rooster at times.  And the hens at times clearly scorning the advances of the roosters.

But back to the ducks.  They just seem so doggone content all the time.

They don’t know what their missing.  Their instinct….what they were born to do was to be around water and paddling on a pond is there…..but they are completely unaware of what it actually looks like.  They get a little taste of it when they duck their heads in a bucket of water but I can’t help but wonder if somewhere in their little ducky brains, they know there’s something more.

It makes me think about the books of Galatians and how Paul tells us were were born into freedom….yet we remain in captivity.  This analogy can be applied on so many different levels…from people working at jobs they hate to the 40-something adult wondering “Is THIS all there is?”  Or our inborn desire to love and be free though we continue to be trapped in the systems and expectations games that we’re trained to accept as normal.

Can you relate?

And then of course, there’s the longing for heaven and a day when all things will be made right.

But for right now….I’ll just hang here and enjoy watching the ducks and learning from the chickens.   And thank God that any cages I find myself in are simply of my own making.

The following is a true (ahem—approximate) account of a day in the life of The Mother Lode.

3:30—Computer lady comes over.  She is energetic and immediately delves into my computer and its various hiccups and sluggishness.  I am happy.

3:35–Molly comes running in, breathless.  “Caleb made a FLAME THROWER and he’s using it outside!”  Caleb, right on her heels, is wielding a long paper tube like one would find under paper toweling.  It is taped to another one (AHA!  NOW I know who has the masking tape) like a handle.  On the end is a wooden match stick, taped so it’s sticking out of the business end of the flame thrower. I shrug at Molly.  “But he’s spraying SPRAY PAINT when he lights the match!”

I excuse myself while my Computer Angel is cleaning the disk in my hard drive.  Whatever that means.

4:05–C.A. is still working and teaching me a thing or two.  The phone rings.  “MOM!!!  It’s the guy with the ice skates!”  This is of utmost importance as Molly has been bird-dogging for an inexpensive pair of good skates.  And after pricing new ones, I concurred that this call was not one I wanted to miss.

By now, Daniel and Caleb are engaged in a sort of “I know you are but what am I” sort of dialog in the background.  A stack of math workbooks crash to the floor.  I strain to hear the fellow on the phone.  His southern accent is so thick I can scarcely understand him  I *think* we arranged a time to meet but this will need to be confirmed later.

4:17–Somewhere between discussing HP printers and Linksys routers, Daniel appears with another invention.   It is a TV monitor the size of a Chicklet and it is framed in Legos.  “Just hook it up to a DVD player!” and he flashes his smile.  C.A. smiles back.

4:18—Another phone call.  “MOM!  It’s the guy from 4H!  He’s got chicks for me!” Daniel is ecstatic.

Oh, good gravy!  I thought we were too late to get any.  “Hello?” I say, not so certain I want to talk to this fellow.

“Daniel’s name was on a list for chicks.  I’ve got them!”

“HUH?”

“Someone else didn’t want them after all so Daniel’s next on the list.”  Oh, that explains that.  (I found out later that some mom ordered them and when the dad had kittens over her idea and vetoed their arrival.)

“Can we meet tomorrow?” I ask.  The C.A. is trying to get my router to work.  I am watching breathlessly to see if she can get it functioning.

“Nope!  Needs to be now!”  I wander into the kitchen, which, if it were a crime scene it would be described as “having signs of a struggle.”

Someone lets the dog in.  She wants to be petted.

“Lemme call you back,” I say to the guy.  The C.A. needs a password for something.  Bah-bah-bah-bah is all that comes to mind. (I wonder if she can clean my harddrive disk.)

LATER….

The router is fried. The computer is happy.  I am happy.  Jay comes home early (in tax season, this means around 7:00.)   He has the box of chicks.  But Shiny Object/Doting Daddy syndrome hit in the aisles of the Tractor Supply Company.

“You spent HOW MUCH?” I asked.

“Mom!  Daddy bought me a duck!” Molly was beaming.  “Me too!” Caleb said.

This “free” chicken endeavor was cleaning out our bank account.

I enter the garage where the sound of peeping and scratching left me puzzled….was it coming from my own head or not?  Ah!  I’m safe for now…it IS the chicks.

Molly begins fabricating a “Playpen” for her duck.

Jay explains that there were extra chicks that were leftover and that’s why there are 36 of them.

By now Daniel has them piled into MY large plastic tub that I’ve used for storing clothes.  Used to anyway.   The peeping and chirping has reached a new decibel level as the kids are picking them up.

I wander into my Signs of Struggle kitchen.  Evidence of my earlier trip to Costco and Wal-Mart are all over the place.  There is milk spilled over the floor.  (How many times must I tell you kids NOT to put the milk there for the cat?)

And I consider, as I reach for a longneck bottle of my other favorite brewed beverage….yep….thinks are about normal around here.

PS….If I’m a little slow in getting emails answered….please reference the above…

I see the chicken and the chicken sees me

Living with “The Gift” creates many opportunities for memorable moments.  Like this weekend.

Jay and Daniel take a drive out of town to pick up his riding lawnmower that we stored at a friend’s house.  On the way back Shiny Object Syndrome kicked in while they were driving past a flea market.  (For the uninitiated in my world, Shiny Object Syndrome, or SOS for short, is the tendency to be distracted suddenly by any shiny object.)

I imagine it sounded something like this: “Hey Dad!  Let’s stop and look at the chickens!”

Dad: “Okay!  But we’re only looking…”

5 minutes later, Dad and Daniel are leaving with not one but TWO laying hens.

They arrive home where mom looks up from the gardening bed she is cleaning up.  Daniel, all shiny- eyed is bubbling over, “Guess what I bought?” Jay is looming with a guilty look on is face in the background.  Clucking noises are heard from the back of the truck.

“Oh my gosh.  You didn’t.  Tell me you didn’t.  Oh dear God, please no….”

More clucking noises.  Daniel retrieves the birds from the back.  Their feet are tied so they are TICKED.  You might say the birds are giving us the bird.

In the meanwhile, Libby, a springer spaniel, which by the way is a type of dog specifically bred for bird hunting, begins whimpering, hyperventilating and pointing.

“Oh tell me you didn’t…” My voice trailed into a whimper as I look at the half finished chicken coop.  In our world, many things only reach the “half finished stage.”  I’m used to it by now.

But with the dog….and the cat…I know “Lucy” and “Aunt Bea’s” lives are going to be remarkably short with the half finished coop.

And then It kicks in.  The unbelievable focus and energy Daniel has when he’s motivated.  Within 2-3 hours, the coop was finished.  Yes, the ENTIRE sack of corn feed was dumped out….but the coop was finished.

This morning, I gingerly poked my nose into the coop to see if they were still alive.  What greeted me was one of their hind ends and I was just in time to witness that indeed, they were very much alive.

Daniel followed behind me, barefoot.  “You might want to watch where you step, son,” I told him.

He gave me his heartwarming smile.  Maybe this chicken business isn’t so bad after all.

And Jay tells me to count my blessings.  That flea market had goats and rabbits too.