The incubator rocked the eggs slowly back and forth for 21 days… The seeds went into the garden dirt and were soon reborn. The seeds raised their heads and then branched out into full-grown plants. I prayed the chicken eggs would soon become fully developed chicks. I prayed for the wisdom to care for the fragile chicks from birth. I prayed the LORD would help me tread carefully for their care. I didn’t even know if they would hatch at all.

One morning I went to the garage early to make sure the temperature and humidity were good. To my great surprise, two fully hatched chicks lay where eggs once were. I glanced at the timer: 18 days. They were early!! I didn’t have anything ready!!

I scrambled to grab the heat lamp, food and water. I flung the wood shavings into a Rubbermaid tub. I called out for my husband. He came downstairs and cooed, “Well hello! Did you decide to come early?”  

The chicks had a timeline of their own. They made their own plans.

Alas my own children have their own hopes and dreams. Even if I had my way, would it be the right way? What about the LORD’s plans for their lives? I was distracted with my own life and didn’t even notice the chicken blessings pecking their way out of the shell. It wasn’t the best time for me. In the black of night, the chicks worked their way out. I wasn’t ready, but God delivered them anyway. Apparently, this is a theme for the season. Lord, make my heart ready for the things you want to send my way.

I wonder if it is about control. God’s plan for me causes me to let go of the things I tied up with a pretty little bow. The babies came and we had not set up the nursery. We didn’t have a baby shower. We scramble to get things ready. I must trust; trust in God’s plan when things are out of my control.

I put the two solid black chicks in their new Rubbermaid home, then rushed off to work. I didn’t even get to moon over the newborns. The ones that hatched were from the neighbor’s dozen eggs. The other two dozen were potentially Pretty Boy’s chicks. Would any of them hatch?

A few days later, another egg pecked its’ beak out. It was a neighbor’s egg that pipped out. In my excitement, I flung the lid of the incubator open to welcome it. It was not making any more progress. I closed the lid and googled: “Should I help a chick hatch.”

After reading up, I discovered that opening the lid could cause the membrane to “shrink wrap” the chick and prevent it from hatching. After 24 hours, I corrected my mistake and helped remove the shell. Chick #3 was born.

There I go again: I can’t wait for nature to take its’ course, so I try to help it along. This is more commonly my challenge than early hatchlings. I thought the chick needed me and I ended up make its’ birth more difficult. Fortunately, it quickly recovered and after drying off, joined the sisters.

I looked at the rest of the eggs. Would any of Pretty Boy’s eggs hatch? My hopes after the loss of our rooster were tightly bound up in the redemption to be found in his offspring.

What do we do in the waiting? How can we allow ourselves to hope when our hopes are consistently dashed? I want to allow the LORD to teach me in the good times and in the bad. If I get off this life roller coaster and never allow myself to dream, what kind of life would that be… By always avoiding some pitfall, I would never climb a mountain.

Maybe hope is something I should hold but not grasp tightly. My white-knuckled grasp on my dreams can cause me to miss blessings: three little chicks under a lamp, for sure but one preemie in an incubator – how can her early arrival be a blessing? What is the cure for clutching my hopes too tightly?

I think of all the ways the church community blessed us. The body of Christ brought meals and gifts. Church ladies babysat while my daughter was at the hospital. Maybe the greatest gift has been the amount of time I spent with my daughter and son-in-law. I get to see, real-time growth in these young adults. I have a front-row seat to see how God is shepherding their hearts.

I lose the chokehold on what I want and take the weekly drive to their home. I am still laboring for my children. This parenting-thing is not over now that they are adults.

I train the tomato plants in the garden to grow within the boundaries of the wire baskets, but I know they will grow out. I know that only God can bring the blossoms. I trust God will bring the fruit in his time. I lessen my grasp on the plants.

I put out food and water for my chicks. I try not to worry about the little one I helped out of the shell. She is smaller than the other two. I turn off the light and go to bed. I trust God will grow her in his time. I lessen my grasp on the chicks.

I squirt a little more water in the incubator. I whisper a little prayer to lesson my grip on the hopes in my heart. I trust God will hatch what is needed, in his time.

I pray God will hold my granddaughter close. I pray for the courage to trust him with her life… with my daughter’s life…

Trust is truly the cure for things we hold too tightly.