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A Chicken and Egg Story

Melissa Beene Ford/ Uncategorized

Y’all…. I HAVE CHICKENS.

Dandelion the Chicken

Which no doubt comes as a complete and utter shock to those of you who have been following my blog for any length of time, on account of how you’ve always known me as a hip and sophisticated person.

Yep, I DO still live in the city, mere blocks from downtown.

But I have also gone country, back to my roots, at least a little, with my raised organic garden beds and… CHICKENS.

In case you don’t know, they’re THE best pets ever, and I am totally the Chicken Whisperer. Like, I walk out into the backyard, and they come running as fast as their little T-Rex bodies can waddle, STRAIGHT TO ME, because I am their best friend.

They’re pretty much my best friends. We’re best friends. That’s all.

I started with just two sweet, happy, quiet little hens, and a cute little coop I ordered through the mail that looked adorable nestled in there behind my garden beds, and we were doing JUST FINE for over a year, as they roamed around in the yard, quietly, happily, scratching and pecking and living their best lives. And then one of my two girls died one day out of the blue for reasons I still haven’t figured out because though I am the Chicken Whisperer, I am still, apparently, a NOVICE.

RIP Moonstar

Bless.

I grieved.

I mourned.

Like, cried actual tears, over an actual BIRD.

Who even am I anymore?

I took to the Facebook, naturally, because I’m a proud member of the East Texas Chicken group (which, also, may come as a shock to you) to find answers. Moonstar was most likely egg bound.

I’m so sorry, Moonstar. I didn’t know.

And somehow, my two chickens that became one chicken (RIP, Moonstar*) then became FOUR chickens (…and then five chickens, ahem) because I learned that chickens are flock animals, and my remaining Ruby* Girl would suffer extreme emotional distress were she to be left as a flock of one in my backyard.

*Susie named the chickens, FYI.

So, naturally, more chickens were the answer.

Side note: more chickens are ALWAYS the answer. Whatever the question, chickens are the answer.

I cannot, after all, bear my sweet Ruby Girl suffering extreme emotional distress, so she had to have some sister friends.

But anyhoo, a year of being a Chicken Whisper combined with the traumatic experience of placing my sweet Moonstar into the arms of Jesus MUCH, MUCH too soon has resulted in me becoming slightly more knowledgeable about all things chicken.

I’ve been reading. I’ve been chatting with my East Texas Chicken group pals. Is there a president of the East Texas Chicken group, and if so, how do you run for office? Asking for a friend.

I’ve learned a few things, is all I’m saying.

Like, for instance, that when a baby chicken is ready to hatch, and slowly pecking its way out of the shell, you can KILL the baby chicken if you try to help it get out of the shell too soon by breaking the shell away FOR them.

Did you know this?

It looks like such a struggle, watching those tiny things struggle and labor to break their way free from the shell. I don’t have baby chicks, nor do I have the capability to hatch any eggs (*yet… ‘going country’ is a process), but I see videos.

It’s a slow, slow, laborious struggle for the tiny baby birds.

But if you don’t let them struggle their way out of the shell ON THEIR OWN, their little necks will be too weak to hold their heads up on the outside world, and they’ll die.

I thought of this this morning as I was praying for someone who is struggling.

I actually have a couple of people close to me who are struggling with something difficult, and I WOULD LOVE FOR GOD TO RESCUE THEM FROM THE STRUGGLE.

It’s so hard to watch someone you care about going through tough times, letting them struggle their way out of it, figuring it out for themselves, when all you can do is pray and wait.

There’s a reason they have to struggle, God told me.

If they’re rescued from it too soon, they won’t be strong enough to handle the REST of what’s coming.

The struggle is a necessary part of the journey.

The struggle forces all of us to strengthen our feeble arms.

The struggle makes us a little more mature and complete.

As much as I’d love to rescue my sweet little flock (see what I did there?) from the struggles they’re in, MORE than I want their lives to be struggle-free, I want them to be mature and complete with good, strong arms.

I mean, the world is too full of limp, useless chickens who are too weak to hold up their own heads, already.

See? That’s some wisdom that can ONLY COME FROM CHICKENS.

I think I proved my point.

Chickens are the answer, whatever the question.

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About Me


Hey there... I'm Melissa! Texas girl. Mom to three + one goldendoodle. Believer. Old house fanatic. Creating a happy + healthy home with purpose is my passion. I'm so glad you're here!

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I don’t know who’s big idea it was to strip 80 I don’t know who’s big idea it was to strip 80 years of paint off of this door down to the wood and start over… but that person has no business starting new projects. 😅 My neighbors must have thought this project would never end. *I* thought this project would never end. 😰 If you’re thinking of doing this yourself? Just don’t, ok? Throw the whole door away and buy a new one. 😂🤣 Just kidding.  Old house weirdos like me… we can’t just do things the easy way. Anyhoo… after some trial and error, @sherwinwilliams Celestial is what I landed on, and I have to say… I like it. Periwinkle-ish blue looks great with the yellow house and will look even better when the azaleas are in bloom. Was it all worth it? That’s not important right now. 🤭 Will I do this all again in two years? The magic eight ball says… without a doubt. 👏🏻 I’ve already picked the next color. #gluttonforpunishment #somefoolsneverlearn #oldhouselove #oldhomelove #makinghome #southernliving #gardenandgun #azaleadistrict #tylertx
Spring in the Azalea District makes the winters in Spring in the Azalea District makes the winters in an 80-year-old house completely worth it … what broken pipes, icy hardwood floors and drafty windows? 🤔 I forgot already. #comeonspring #azaleadistrict #tylertx
Happy Saturday ☀️ Happy Saturday ☀️
Salt Lake City is always magical ✨ Salt Lake City is always magical ✨
2022 had its highs and lows for sure, but scrollin 2022 had its highs and lows for sure, but scrolling through my pics from the last twelve months made me realize how blessed and content I am. Prosperity, love, and peace have been ours in abundance, in spite of the pain of losing my dad. The second picture is the last picture of him… the last time I saw him. 💔 But God has been good to my family this year and 2022 is ending far better than it began. 😄 #2022inreview #thanksforthememories
Who wants a Christmas tour of my home? 🙋🏼‍ Who wants a Christmas tour of my home? 🙋🏼‍♀️
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That’s it. That’s the tour. (Slide two). 
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It’s a new trend I’m starting: bare Christmas tree. Lowe’s tag still attached (so quirky and unexpected)! Christmas ornaments still in boxes. Coming soon to an Anthropologie window display near you. 
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Every year I think, “next year I’ll do better. Next year I’ll have it together.” And then, here we are on the SIXTH Christmas that we’ve been in this house, the sixth Christmas I’ve dragged our chaotic bunch of Christmas mess out of a chaotic garage I still haven’t unpacked from our move six years ago. 
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Maybe this year is the year I’ll organize it all and put it back neatly so that by Christmas number 7, it will be smooth sailing. People will flock to my social media to see how I’ve pulled everything off SO PERFECTLY. Next year will be my year. 
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Seems every year there’s less and less bandwidth for all these things. There’s more grief and stress, less money. More demands, less grace. 
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I put this sign on the wall in my office so I could keep it in front of my eyes: Love. Joy. Peace. And all that. I am SO unlike Jesus most days. So lacking in all of these character qualities. And that’s WITH waking up most mornings and spending my first 30 minutes with God Himself. 
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How lost would I be without that? Geez. I can’t fathom. I REQUIRE being transformed by renewing my mind every single morning, and even then, responding to people and life with love, joy, peace and patience doesn’t come naturally. 
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It’s the goal, though. 
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This weary world needs that from us Believers during this season, more than ever… even more than an Anthropologie-window-display worthy Christmas home tour. 
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I’m working on both.
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