Chicken Poo

My hens are laying.

And I have to tell you, home-grown eggs taste way better than store-bought eggs. But store-bought has its advantages, too, as I learned this past week.

When I discovered my girls were putting out, I was thrilled. Each day, I went and gathered the three or four eggs I saw in their boxes and carefully placed them in the carton in the refrigerator. But one day Superman went out there and hit paydirt. Apparently, the girls were mostly laying waaaay up high, where I couldn’t see or reach. He climbed up and found the nest of golden eggs. Only, these eggs were plated with something besides gold.

Yeah.

A couple of them had a little chicken poo.

One of them was so disgusting, Superman wouldn’t touch it.

Me: But you can’t just leave it there. It will rot.

Him: Are you gonna crawl up there and get it?

Me: You’re already up there. Just get the egg and I’ll wash it.

Him: (Rolling his eyes.) Good grief. (That’s his favorite saying when he thinks he’s right and someone else is ridiculous.)

He got the egg, but, great guy that he is, refused to make me carry it. Still, he kept grumbling and gabbling until I said, “Just give me the egg.”

He handed me the poo-covered nugget. Disgusting.

But I was determined to prove my worth as a rugged country girl. I took the chunk of compost-covered protein inside, stuck it in an old Tupperware bowl filled with water, and let it soak. Poo washes off, after all.

I showed Superman my ingenuity. He wasn’t impressed.

After a quarter hour or so, I decided to scour that forsaken little kernel until it shined, so it could sit proudly with its fellow eggy siblings in the fridge. And that’s when everything went kerplunk.

Yeah. I wasn’t counting on the egg breaking when I scrubbed it.

Superman, who’d been watching in amused silence, suddenly found his voice and snickered. Guffawed. Cackled, even.

At least he didn’t say “I told you so.” But I know he thought it.

I learned a lesson that day. When stuff is covered in dung, it’s usually a good idea to just let it be. Any attempts to salvage the situation will more than likely result in muck-covered hands. And we may end up making things worse.

That’s not to say every pooey situation is hopeless. But sometimes, it’s best to just leave well enough alone, and trust God to handle things. When we do that, we may end up with a fuzzy chick instead of a broken mess.

”Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD and has made the LORD his hope and confidence.” ― Jeremiah 17:7