Chicken Coops and Valentines

The day that Magaw and Pops built the chicken coop dawned hot in the shade-- August mornings sometimes just start that way. They came as early as they could, armed with the tools and wood and mesh needed to create the finest coop money could buy. And then they went to work. A couple of days later and a few dozen popscicles later, the chickens found a new place to lay their heads . . . or beaks, or talons, or eggs, or whatever.

I am not a fan of chickens. They stink, roosters crow all night (at least ours does), and they lay eggs of various shapes and sizes and colors that PAAS Easter products just don't stock. Their brains (if they even have them) lack abilities of common sense. Yet, these chickens still needed a home, and thanks to my parents, they got one! My dad thinks and plans and figures better than anyone I know (rivaled only by my ever-encouraging husband) and my mom wins the sportsmanship award when it comes to these projects. This spring they will be trying bees . . .

Something of dependance happens the moment we come into the world--even before our entrance into earth, we depend upon our mothers for everything. Our fathers become our heros and providers and protectors. These people represent everything to our little bodies and minds: nourishment, safety, happiness, answers. Even now as a full grown adult with children of my own, I look to my parents for these same things. This year I asked them to please build our countertops and stairs in our new home. I didn't ask this out of ignorance or disregard for their time or talents or experiences (neither of them had ever done this before). But I needed something done that I just couldn't do myself. As a mom, I've learned that that's just what you do for your kids (even if you don't have a clue how to, you just figure it out!). And as a daughter, I guess I still rely on my parents a bit. Now every time I wipe sticky jam off the counter, or chase a basketball-shooting son down the stairs, I am grateful for their nourishment, safety, happiness, and answers that they have and always have had for me.

My Valentine's night date this year was a snowy walk out to the chicken coop. We walked hand in hand through the knee-deep drifts, under the bright winter starlight, to feed the birds, gather eggs, and balk at the rooster. He had a few things to say, as well. Once again, I was reminded that the best things in life are found in times of sacrifice and love, for our sweethearts and children, generation upon generation. Michael and I often remark how blessed our lives are, just to have been born into the homes we were. Decisions we made to bring us to the point we are now were planted in our hearts by the people that do things for us (even still) that we just don't know how to do. Thanks Mom and Dad!