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If I want to write a Haiku about two chicken eggs, I will. It’s been a discouraging month; few things have worked as they should these past several weeks. I was nearing the end of my rope this afternoon when my 11-year old daughter burst into the house carrying an egg in each hand, rewards of nine months work building chicken houses, hanging roost boxes, providing food & water, and fighting off our two hunting dogs who still think that these chickens were their early Christmas presents. We had almost given up, assuming that these eggless birds would become yet ten more pieces of evidence that while the Piphers may live on a farm…they are not farmers.

God’s mercies are new every day. Sometimes they even come through chickens with a perfect sense of timing.


The First Two Eggs

Nine months scooping poop

Yolk-filled proof sometimes things work

Not often, mind you.




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