Having lost two flocks of chicks to the local predators I was hesitant to go to the woman who gifted them to me and the twins to ask for a third. She trusted us to love, feed and protect them, and while we scored well on the first two counts we had bombed the last one. 

 

My Chicken Consultant, the one who said "Chickens are easier than dogs," was the first person I called when the second round were stolen. It was Mother's Day and I was not feeling like a candidate for Mother of Chickens Award. Her sympathy was genuine, and a few days later she asked if she and her daughter could come check out the coop for solutions. 

 

"Sure, thanks." I answered. "And can you bring a dozen eggs for me to buy?"

 

They arrived with eggs brown and white, and I paid her daughter whose homeschooling task is to raise twenty seven chickens. Her sister raises a cow, and her brother a goat. The goat's name is Grover Cleveland because he earned a grand in the first year, and Grover is on the thousand dollar bill. My friend inspected the damage to the ghost town coop. Her experienced eyes spotted where a fox had probably been digging for a few nights, and was thwarted. That was good news. The spot of entry was clearly the handiwork of a raccoon, and my friend reminded me that the animal was a mother feeding her brood, too. But after the reassurance and sympathy she proceeded with solutions. 

 

"We can reinforce the bottom with scrap lumber, and put them in a locked box at night. In fact I took the liberty of stopping at the thrift store on the way. I have a box." I began to feel a smidgen of hope, aside from the fact that I had no chickens to protect. 

 

"I also stopped at Davis Feed and got the last of their chicks for the season."

 

She brought me chicks?? This was amazing!! The twins hugged her and her daughter brought out a cardboard box of eight peeping chicks only forty eight hours old. Two were bantams, and as small as kiwis. My twins swooned over them and the three girls made a nest in a basket and dove into the task of naming them. They held each one in turn and giggled over the cuteness. My friend and I began to turn the box into a safe house, and another member of my Chicken Consultants Team arrived with her sons and a heat lamp. 

 

I fetched tools and the two of them installed both a lock and a bar to block the gap in the door of what was probably once an unpretentious cabinet for dishes. They raised it off the dirt on logs, and covered it with a tarp. The boys jumped on the trampoline. 

 

I have no words for the gratitude I feel. Thank you is too small. Generosity in the wake of failure is like the morning light when you are camping in the dark woods. I felt unworthy of their support. 

 

Yet they believe in me and want us to succeed. 

 

John and I have arrived in the aftermath of marriages that are damaged. Couples whose dreams have been stolen in the night sometimes feel helpless to try again. Pornography preys on marriage, stealing trust like a thief. Anger and deceit tear away the walls of a relationship. But people are ready with tools and fresh ideas to rebuild. 

 

We are among those who want you to succeed. 

 

 

Photo by Stephen Conroy

You can support us at 

www.caringformarriage.org