Can God Be Angry at Suffering? Yes! No! Maybe?

I was asked this question as a comment on my post "I Hasten to Give Back my Ticket." I knew my answer would be long, so I turned it into a whole blog post. 

"So (speaking a bit like a mathematician), there is a the system in which you have "trust that there is a wisdom" that you don't (yet) understand. In that system, is there suffering because God does not have the power to prevent it? Or does He let it happen because it's good for us in the long run? Or does He make it happen because it's necessary for our development? Only in the first of these frameworks would there be room for God to be angry." ~Anonymous

I have found this difficult to find an answer because I imagine that there are quite a few presuppositions that we view differently. But instead of trying to get into all of those, I'm just going to answer your direct question the best I can (and let's all keep in mind that I am no expert and that "the experts" have been trying to answer these questions for quite some time. So ultimately, my answer is, I don't know if I have the right answer). 

1. "is there suffering because God does not have the power to prevent it?" No, that is not what I believe. I believe that God is omnipotent, so He has all power, which (I believe) is shown through miracles. 

2. "Does He let is happen because it's good for us in the long run?" Yes? and no? 
So, I believe that there are some kinds of suffering that are good for us in the long run, and I don't want to get too specific about what kinds those are because I honestly think that might be different for everyone. Comparing God to a parent, some examples might be vaccines or medicines or medical interventions that cause suffering. Other kinds of "suffering" are widely accepted as building character- running sprints, lifting weights, delayed gratification etc. 

I believe that there are some kinds of suffering that are the result of our choices or others' choices. Some of these can be more severe or traumatic than the ones I mentioned above. Could God intervene and prevent the suffering caused by consequences? I believe that He could but that He chooses not to. Again speaking as a parent, "natural consequences" are a powerful teaching tool for my children to learn to do or not do certain things (and that is not a strictly Christian viewpoint either. It's one of the few consequences that gentle parenting philosophies recommend. See Positive Discipline for more on that). 

I say it's a no because sometimes I think God doesn't want suffering to happen but allows it to happen because He values humanity's freedom to choose high enough to allow suffering and not because He wants to teach us something. However, I believe that God can redeem all of those things and use them after they have occurred. (the widely quoted "God works all things together for the good of those who love Him." which I do not believe means everything's going to be hunky dory if you just love God. I think it applies more in this context. Everything that has happened to a person, God can work for good.)

3. "Does He make it happen because it's necessary for our development?" Yes to this one too. But only under specific circumstances. This may be an unpopular view, but I find it difficult to read the Old Testament without seeing a recurring motif. Israel forgets about God and starts worshipping idols. So God allows something bad to happen, or sometimes even causes something bad to happen so that they will remember Him and come back into obedience. In Joel, there's a long list of maladies that happen to the Israelites with the context being that God is trying to call his people back to repentance, but I think it's condensed by this one verse "I will restore to you the years that the locust has eaten, the cankerworm, and the caterpiller, and the palmerworm, my great army which I sent among you."(Joel 2:25). Aside from the humor I find in God calling these bugs His great army, I think it's pretty clear that God is taking responsibility for this plague (which caused famine). Even in claiming that responsibility, God expresses a plan to restore the damage. The books of Joel and Amos would be fairly short examples of what I'm trying to reference here. Are these my favorite and most comfortable stories and ideas about God? No, not really. But there is something comforting about the idea that God will pursue me (not control me) when I pursue evil. I have no idea how often this happens in our current life, but it seemed to happen about every other generation for the Israelites!

To address your final statement "Only in the first of these frameworks would there be room for God to be angry": I disagree. If suffering is a natural consequence of poor choices, then I think God can be angry that the poor choice occurred, and in my view, is angry with and for us that the consequences are painful. And when the suffering is the result of someone else's poor, or even evil, choice, I think God can be angry for the victim and at the perpetrator. (I'm aware that their is a whole additional conversation about free will and sovereignty etc. But for now, I'll just say that I believe God values free will, and that free will results in negative consequences. John Milton says that man is "free to fall, sufficient to stand" or something like that, which is to say, God created humanity with the ability to choose evil and the ability to resist it). 

Even if God chooses to allow evil or even to inflict suffering, I think he can still be angry. A doctor may choose to inflict great suffering on a cancer patient to remove the cancer. I believe he or she still has room to be angry at the suffering the treatment causes. And in the case of God causing suffering necessary for our development, perhaps angry is not the right word. Perhaps empathetic would work better. 

I feel that my answer has gotten a bit messy. To summarize, I think there are different kinds of suffering and that some of those are allowed by God, and a few very specific ones are inflicted by God. In some of those scenarios, I think God does have room to be angry. In the final one, perhaps God does not have room to be angry at the suffering (I think He's pretty clear that he's angry at the disobedience of the Israelites in my example), but I believe he does empathize with those who are suffering.

Ultimately, I think any discussion of God allowing or causing suffering has be brought back to the idea that God voluntarily suffered and died on the cross to "correct" the mathematical system that required a sacrifice to be suffered that we could not endure. Whenever I am experiencing my own suffering, I am reminded that God is not asking me to experience anything that He has not already suffered. 

I will add from my original post that much of my anger is, in fact, directed towards the consequences of peoples' freedom to choose evil. I ponder what kind of system it would have to be to prevent people from choosing evil. Ultimately, people would not be able to choose. Or perhaps cause and effect could be divorced- allow people to make bad choices but remove the ill effects. However, I feel that would be a disservice to the one making bad choices (see A Picture of Dorian Gray for a fictional exploration of how Oscar Wilde imagined that working out). *Edit to add: A friend shared this quote, and I think it's beautiful and relevant: 

“Christ did not descend from the cross except into the grave. And why not otherwise? Wouldn’t it have put fine comical expressions on the faces of the scribes and chief priests and the soldiers if at that moment He had come down in power and glory? Why didn’t He do it? Why hasn’t He done it at any one of a thousand good times between then and now?

I knew the answer. I knew it a long time before I could admit it, for all the suffering of the world is in it. He didn’t, He hasn’t, because from the moment He did, He would be the absolute tyrant of the world and we would be His slaves. Even those who hated Him and hated one another and hated their own souls would have to believe in Him then. From that moment the possibility that we might be bound to Him and He to us and us to one another by love forever would be ended.

And so, I thought, He must forebear to reveal His power and glory by presenting Himself as Himself, and must be present only in the ordinary miracle of the existence of His creatures. Those who wish to see Him must see Him in the poor, the hungry, the hurt, the wordless creatures, the groaning and travailing beautiful world.”

                                                                                          ― Wendell Berry, Jayber Crow

Finally, I will reiterate that I believe this is a "not yet" system. I think that there is some suffering that goes unredeemed in this life, and that feels the most tragic to me, but I tend to think that's because I can't imagine how it will work out after this life (that's a big one of those presuppositions I mentioned at the beginning). Paul writes in the New Testament that if Christ is not risen from the dead, we (Christians) are the most miserable people of all, and I think that applies to this belief that suffering can be redeemed, miraculously, by the resurrection from the dead. 

My apologies if that got way too mystical at the end there. 

Happiness. . . hello?

Happiness. Putting up the hammock for the kids when they ask and listening to their screams. 

I've noticed that I'm posting a lot more on Facebook. Like, a whole lot more. Probably 10-20x more than I was posting six months ago. Why is that?
Well, I'm feeling happy. Or, my counselor would correct, happiness is not a feeling.
Fine.
I'm feeling, joy?

It feels strange. Unfamiliar. Scary.

Yep, joy feels scary to me.

I'm afraid that it's all a charade. That the other shoe is about to drop. That everything is about to go wrong again- just when I'm starting to find joy. I'm staying curious with myself about why this is scary, but I think it's partially because I'm afraid of it ending. I read a beautiful quote when I was just falling into anxiety and thought that I could will my way out of it. I think this was good advice even though I needed more help than this. I took a screenshot to save it:



My takeaway from this is that I can't keep this joy here by clinging to it. I can welcome it and I can enjoy the happiness, and I have to hold it lightly and be willing to move into the next season- aiming to do so with contentment and grace.

I'm also feeling guilty. Do I feel guilty because I don't feel like I deserve happiness? Maybe. Certainly when I think about all the people in the world whose lives are not thriving. Nothing in my life makes me think that I deserve happiness instead of them. But that's based on comparison, and I'm trying to avoid comparisons.
And it's different than that. I think I feel guilty because I feel like this joy or happiness or whatever is based on my circumstances. Life is pretty good right now. There's a phrase "this too shall pass." I've always applied that to negative or hard times, but I'm realizing that it's for the good times too. Whatever season I am in right now, it shall pass. I'm praying that I will have the character to find contentment in whatever season comes next and not just yearn back to "the good times."

I'm fearful that I will go right back to being discontent and kinda miserable, but I'm hopeful that I've grown a bit as a person. We're all storytellers, right? We tell ourselves stories about our lives to make sense and meaning out of it. One story that popped into my head was that I've come out of a chrysalis and "I'm a beautiful butterfly."  I was wrapped up real tight in my pain and my fear and my anxiety, but I have come forth changed.

That's really uncomfortable for me- to think that I've accomplished something or "arrived." As I was sitting in that, I felt the Holy Spirit sortof whisper "There will be more chrysalides*, and there will be more emergences, until the final resurrection." I'm relieved- I've made progress, yes, but this is not as good as it gets, nor do I need to pressure myself to perform a certain way. Also, I think it's appropriate to add that I can't take credit for any of this. If I were in the driver's seat, so to speak, things would have gone differently. And still: hope springs up in the unlikeliest of places. 

One final note, I'm still finding that gratitude is serving me well. When I start to feel fearful or guilty, I use that as a reminder to be grateful. Grateful for where I am and what I had to go through to get here. Grateful for the joy and the love I feel. Grateful for the recognition that even this beautiful season is not perfect, and that is good. That is real. Imperfections help me accept this season more than anything else, and I am grateful for them. 

*yes, I did have to look up the plural of chrysalis

"I hasten to give back my entrance ticket."

In today's She Reads Truth, we read about Exodus and how that is all part of God's plan and that Exodus points us to Christ and his redemption. I can believe all of that on a macro level, but when I think about the micro level, I get all kinds of sad and angry. I imagine what my faith would have been like as a slave in Egypt, praying for deliverance and then realizing I would die before deliverance came. Or if I was a mother in Egypt whose baby boy was murdered while Moses grew up- miraculously delivered from death by God. Why not my son? Why did God let my child die? 

I recognize that these are all different ways of wrestling with the question "why/ how can God allow suffering?" I think it's good to wrestle with it from a lot of different angles. It creates empathy and openness to learn. 

Part of our reading from yesterday's She Reads Truth was from Genesis 3:16-19:

To the woman he said,

“I will surely multiply your pain in childbearing;

iin pain you shall bring forth children.

jYour desire shall be contrary to6 your husband,

but he shall krule over you.”

17 And to Adam he said,

“Because you have listened to the voice of your wife

and have eaten of the tree

lof which I commanded you,

‘You shall not eat of it,’

mcursed is the ground because of you;

nin pain you shall eat of it all the days of your life;

18  thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you;

and you shall eat the plants of the field.

19  By the sweat of your face

you shall eat bread,

till you return to the ground,

for out of it you were taken;

ofor you are dust,

and pto dust you shall return.”

Reading this curse brings grief and sadness and longing, and yes, anger, into my heart. 

Thinking about those poor murdered babies, and the ones later- when Christ comes and Herod kills the babies in Bethlehem, I am often reminded of Ivan Karamazov's conversation with Alyosha in The Brothers Karamazov. I highly recommend reading the whole chapter and the next- they are powerful.  (or just read the whole thing). In this chapter, Ivan, an "atheist" recounts multiple anecdotes of people torturing or abusing children. He says:

"Can you understand why a little creature, who can't even understand what's done to her, should beat her little aching heart with her tiny fist in the dark and the cold, and weep her meek unresentful tears to dear, kind God to protect her? Do you understand that, friend and brother, you pious and humble novice? Do you understand why this infamy must be and is permitted? Without it, I am told, man could not have existed on earth, for he could not have known good and evil. Why should he know that diabolical good and evil when it costs so much? Why, the whole world of knowledge is not worth that child's prayer to ‘dear, kind God’! I say nothing of the sufferings of grown-up people, they have eaten the apple, damn them, and the devil take them all! But these little ones! I am making you suffer, Alyosha, you are not yourself. I'll leave off if you like.” 

“Never mind. I want to suffer too,” muttered Alyosha." . . . 

". . . too high a price is asked for harmony; it's beyond our means to pay so much to enter on it. And so I hasten to give back my entrance ticket, and if I am an honest man I am bound to give it back as soon as possible. And that I am doing. It's not God that I don't accept, Alyosha, only I most respectfully return Him the ticket.” 

“That's rebellion,” murmured Alyosha, looking down 

“Rebellion? I am sorry you call it that,” said Ivan earnestly. “One can hardly live in rebellion, and I want to live. Tell me yourself, I challenge you—answer. Imagine that you are creating a fabric of human destiny with the object of making men happy in the end, giving them peace and rest at last, but that it was essential and inevitable to torture to death only one tiny creature—that baby beating its breast with its fist, for instance—and to found that edifice on its unavenged tears, would you consent to be the architect on those conditions? Tell me, and tell the truth.” “No, I wouldn't consent,” said Alyosha softly. “And can you admit the idea that men for whom you are building it would agree to accept their happiness on the foundation of the unexpiated blood of a little victim? And accepting it would [270] remain happy for ever?” 

“No, I can't admit it. Brother,” said Alyosha suddenly, with flashing eyes, “you said just now, is there a being in the whole world who would have the right to forgive and could forgive? But there is a Being and He can forgive everything, all and for all, because He gave His innocent blood for all and everything. You have forgotten Him, and on Him is built the edifice, and it is to Him they cry aloud, ‘Thou art just, O Lord, for Thy ways are revealed!’ ” 

“Ah! the One without sin and His blood! No, I have not forgotten Him; on the contrary I've been wondering all the time how it was you did not bring Him in before, for usually all arguments on your side put Him in the foreground. Do you know, Alyosha—don't laugh! I made a poem about a year ago. If you can waste another ten minutes on me, I'll tell it to you.” (from Brother's Karamazov, "Rebellion" Book V. Chapter IV). 

The story continues, but I find the same question in my heart as Ivan poses: how could I choose to let even one child suffer, as millions have, to save the whole world? How could God choose that? I think part of the answer is that Christ can choose that because He was willing to suffer and die, and in doing so, saved the whole world. It still does not make sense to me, and I do not understand why God has allowed it to be so, but I trust that there is a wisdom there that I do not understand. I also think that I have a lot to learn about how God redeems suffering. By my math, nothing can redeem some kinds of suffering, but I'm not very good at math. ;) 

At the same time, I believe that I am right to be angry at the suffering of the innocent. I believe that God is angry about injustice and that He will avenge it. 

Reflections on Jonah 1 and 2

I'm reading the She Reads Truth study on the minor prophets.
Today, I'm in Jonah, and it's so rich, I thought I'd type it up here to share.

First, I'm impressed by how much Jonah does to avoid doing God's will, and then to confess! In the boat, they have to wake him, tell him to pray because they're all going to die. He doesn't say "oh yeah, that's God trying to get my attention" and they have to throw all the cargo overboard and eventually cast lots. Finally, when the lot is cast on him, he confesses that he's running away from God and that they should just throw him overboard.

Then, these sailors work hard to save him by trying to row to shore! I'm so impressed by the faith of the sailors- they pray, they ask questions, and then they risk their lives and put their skin in the game to try to keep Jonah alive. When they realize that Jonah is right, they pray and ask God to forgive them for throwing Jonah overboard (to what they assume is his death). That's pretty amazing to me.

Second, and everyone points this out- God pursues Jonah. In the She Reads Truth study it says "God's pursuit is relentless exactly because He is so loving. . . God wanted Jonah. Good, isn't that amazing? I sometimes feel like I'm a substandard version of the person who should actually be living my life. . . But despite my imperfections and failings. . . God gives specific callings to specific people (Ephesians 2:10). That means God wants me for my particular calling and life."

http://shereadstruth.com/2017/10/17/jonahs-call/

From Jonah chapter 2, I was struck by the fact that Jonah waits 3 days and nights in the fish's belly before crying out to God. Was he still pouting in there? Refusing to ask for help since that would mean having to obey?

Sometimes I feel guilty when I ask God for help and comfort if I haven't been diligent in Bible Study or prayer/ meditation/ communion with Him (so, almost always). But Jonah says "I am cast out of they holy temple, yet I will look again toward they holy temple" (2:4) and "When my sould fainted within me, I remembered the Lord: and my prayer came in unto they holy temple" (2:6) Jonah didn't remember God UNTIL his soul fainted! And "the Lord spake unto the fish, and it vomited out Jonah upon the dry land!

Why? Why did God listen to Jonah? "For thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive; and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon thee." Psalm 86:5 God listens to Jonah, and to me, because of who HE is, not because I am ever good enough or diligent enough to attract His attention and care. That is so comforting and relieving to me!

"Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need." (Heberew 4:16). Amen! I can not let guilt or fear keep me from asking God for help.

Here are some excerpts from today's reading that I feel like are relevant to my previous post about miscarriage:

"I bet if Jonah had know beforehand that he would get swallowed by a fish, he never would have stepped foot on that boat. Many of the places God brings us to are ones we would never choose for ourselves. But that is the point: when we stop trying to find ourselves, we can see that we've already been found.

"Pastor and auther A.W. Tozer said, 'In every generation, the people who have found God have been those who have come to the end of themselves. Recognizing their hopelessness, they have been ready to throw themselves on the mercy and grace of a forgiving God.' ***

"Of course we don't want to walk through storms and sit in darkness and sleep in the underbelly. But what if we remembered these are the places where grace usually meets us? Sometimes grace is messy and dark. Sometimes mercy is painful and scary. God does not need perfect circumstances to bring us closer to HIm. In face, it's usually the opposite.

"Let's not overlook that Jonah thanks God for raising his life from the pit while he is still in it. May we do the same today, allowing grace to meet us and mercy to surprise us. We can trust that even as we cry out to God in our distress, He is faithfuul to answer our call. (Jonah 2:2). Thanks be to God"

http://shereadstruth.com/2017/10/18/jonahs-prayer-2/

(In retrospect, maybe I should have just posted the whole blog, lol).

*** I, Gloria, used to hate this quote, because I didn't feel like I'd ever been brought to the end of myself, so I felt kindof disqualified from considering myself a good Christian, and because I really, really wanted there to be a short cut to avoid being brought to the end of myself. Like, couldn't I maybe just turn to God and ask for help before I ran out of strength? I think that's always a good thing to do, but I see now that being totally helpless digs deeper into the soul.

Walking with a Limp

Last year at a Super Bowl party is when I first started bleeding a little bit. It would take a couple of days to become a full blown miscarriage and medical emergency, but I remember very clearly that I started to feel sick and almost instantly tired at this party and noticed some bleeding. 

I've heard people talk about our bodies carrying memories. I've been curious to look up the actual date of the miscarriage because I honestly don't remember, but tonight, all the talk about the Superbowl is what triggered the emotions for me. 

It's been a year. It's been a long year. And surprising to me, I needed the reminder that it's only been a year. I need to have grace for myself and the healing that I still need to do. I need to give myself space to work out within myself how I feel about wanting or having more children. Or about not wanting or having more children. Or even the what if of those two getting crossed- wanting more children and not having them and not wanting more children and then getting pregnant. I don't have answers for all of that, and in its own way, that is an answer. I don't have to know. What I do know is that I never want to say "I just" or "only" have two children. Contentment and gratitude have been guiding stars for me through some very dark times this year. 

As I have processed various parts of what I consider the trauma of my miscarriage experience in the ER, I have thought often of the story of Jacob, when he wrestles with God. He will not let God (in the form of a man) go. So God touches the socket of his hip so that his hip was wrenched, and, I presume, he walks the rest of his life with a limp. That is strangely comforting to me. I feel like I will walk the rest of my life with a limp, and I have a feeling this experience will not be my only injury.

I think we hear a lot of rhetoric about how hardships make us stronger. How God uses them to perfect us. Or the good old "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Practically biblical, that one. I even put it in my blog about this- that I trusted God to make me stronger or to grow me through this. I'm not sure I believe that anymore. 

The summer after the miscarriage I experience what I believe was postpartum depression "light," which I did not address. In September, I experienced severe anxiety about medical interventions (blood draws/ ivs) or other emergencies, complete with full blown physical symptoms of nausea, partial paralysis while I was trying to sleep, and insomnia. Thankfully, miraculously, the symptoms, which I fully believed at the time were going to be eternal, lifted, and I was able to get some treatment for PTSD. I've also reflected on Job. I think I can handle some kinds of "affliction" better than others, and physical pain and mental health struggles are probably the two I've feared the most. Actually, that's not true- I feared physical pain, but until this year, I've never actually feared mental health struggles. I didn't think they would touch me. I didn't know to fear them because I didn't understand them. I pridefully thought that I was immune from them. *shakes head*. Even now, I'm grateful that my struggles were short lived. I can't imagine dealing with chronic pain or depression. 

This past year has forced me to consider that I may not get stronger. I couldn't/ can't self-will my way out of all that mess like I've done with other difficulties in my life. These fears and anxieties and physical reactions are not something that I can harness to become a better person. I can't "get over" them. And, my favorite, I can't "face them and conquer them" as I have tried to do with some of my other fears (rock climbing to overcome fear of heights etc). In fact, ALL of my fears feel magnified to where I'm not even sure that I could handle rappelling or mountaineering. I might turn into a nervous wreck. I hope one day to return to those activities. Whether I can or not, I'm aware that I may always struggle when I need medical care. That I may always fear a trip to the ER. That I may never be as strong in my faith and in my confidence as I once was. I certainly do not have the ability to heal myself or make myself stronger. 

Perhaps God doesn't want me to be stronger. Perhaps He wants me to realize how incredibly powerless and insignificant I am; one not-even-that-great-of-a-human in an ocean of humans on one tiny, struggling planet in an unfathomably vast universe. I'm not even saying that was it- that learning how weak I am was "the lesson." Maybe there isn't a lesson. Or maybe I don't need to know what the lesson is. But what I do know is that God does know and care for me. He is with me. And while that may not carry all the assurances that I would like for it to, I realize that I have to choose for that to be enough even when it really, really doesn't feel like it.

I have learned that God provides tools for us to use in difficult times, and that I can avail myself of those whenever I need to- there is no shame in asking for help and using tools to help myself. I'm grateful for that lesson. 

 So, my faith has been wounded. It's limping. And I think God's okay with that. After all, Israel himself walked with a God-inflicted limp.

*I want to add that I did have great support through Ben and through my friends when I told them what I was experiencing. 

Musings on Holy Saturday

Have you ever been stuck?
Stuck in a place you don't want to be?
In a place where the voices in your head are whispering "you'll always be stuck here. Nothing will ever change, and you'll never survive 40 years of this. or 40 days. or 40 minutes."?

I have. I get stuck in those kinds of places more often than I'd care to admit. But I know I'm not alone. You know why? Because I have imaginary friends.

Well, kindof, lol. I do have a hyperactive imagination, and so, when I meditate on Holy Saturday- the day between Jesus' death on the cross and the day he rose again, I think about the disciples and how they must have been feeling. Scared. Trapped. Devastated. Hopeless. The man they believed would fulfill all their hopes, dreams, and expectations for themselves and for their country died. On a cross, yesterday.

He's buried.

I can feel the quiet shock of terror in their hearts after the bombshell of grief exploded and turned their world upside down. I imagine them sitting still and heavy- unable to think or find motivation. Unclear about what they will do next. Where will they go? Who can they trust? Did they follow the wrong man? Clearly he cannot be the savior. How much danger are their lives in if they are identified as followers of Jesus? And a dull darkness overshadowing their brains as they struggle to concentrate on those questions but just. . . can't.

Those disciples did not remember all the prophecies about Jesus or the very words he had said to them- that he would rise again after three days. They couldn't. Honestly, I can't imagine how they survived that awful, death-shadowed Saturday.

But here's what I do know. They did survive. And Jesus rose from the dead. Things changed. They changed in a moment. And things do change, will change. I'm not going to tell you that your "Saturday"- whatever that situation is- will get better. I don't know that. Sometimes things get worse before they get better. But I do know that it will change. And while perhaps it's too much to ask that you or I believe that our situation will come to life again, perhaps we can cling to the belief that it will change. And maybe, just maybe, we can allow ourselves to risk that dangerous hope that our very own Sunday will come someday.

What Chickens are Teaching Me About Life

I am so enjoying having our chickens, and since the kids love being outside with them, I've had a lot of opportunity to observe them, and it's eye opening and convicting! Maybe I'm making too many connections here, but work with the word pictures, k?

The smallest chicken, Spot, gets picked on by the older chickens a lot. Some of this is normal for establishing pecking order, but then they broke the skin. Apparently blood attracts the other chickens and they will peck the bleeding chicken, basically, to death. Gross and disturbing!

So I've been watching Spot a lot, and letting her out of the coop during the day so she doesn't get pecked to death. In the afternoon, I let the other girls out to run for a couple hours before dark. One day, they were all obsessed watching Spot eat some leftovers I'd thrown out. The chickens were "whining" and were running back and forth and pecking the fence. Get this- the door was open behind them. They were free! But they couldn't figure that out because they were so focused on what they didn't have! I sheepishly wonder how often I'm so focused on my discontent and my envy (major personal defects!), and the door to what I want is wide open right behind me!

I've also observed that Spot really wants to be with the other chickens. One evening I relented and allowed her to sleep in the coop- her wound was doing better, and I smeared her up with petroleum jelly, hoping that the bigger birds wouldn't bother it. Nope, they picked at her again even worse than before- but she still wanted to be with them! I wonder what I am hanging out with that's "picking me to pieces"? I don't think there's any people that are bad for me; I'm thinking more about habits- ahem, facebook?

Finally,  I've been watching Spot run around, acting like everything is fine- eating, scratching, running around, hanging out with the other chickens- and she has a gaping hole in the back of her head! Do you do that? Do you act like everything is fine when you have a gaping wound in your head? . . . or your heart? Oh, that's just me? good, then I'm glad I've been hiding it.