Chickadees

Last week I wrote about chickens. Well, kind of. This week I’m writing about chickadees. Just because I want to. I think chickadees are amazing. Sure, lots of things are amazing in this great big incredible world that God made, but chickadees are something else.

Now, I know that not everyone thinks chickadees are a big deal. After all, they are not really big at all. In fact, they are really very small, and seemingly insignificant. That is one of the reasons I like them so much (apart from their incredible repertoire of course). It is their DEFIANCE!!! They refuse to be dismissed. They defy the enemy. They stare that great big harsh Canadian north wind right in the eye and they don’t even blink. At least I’ve never seen one blink. They eat winter for breakfast. They might not be big on the outside but, mister, they are big on the inside! They can tough it out with the best of them. Those other birds can fly south every winter and wimp-out in some tropical paradise but not these little guys. No sir. They wouldn’t even consider it. They say, ‘bring it on’. You’d think their little feet would freeze and fall off, but appearances can be deceiving. I think those little chickadees are a great testimony for God because of the way they defy the elements; the gods of this world, with their assumptions and preconceptions. They don’t appear to be any great thing, but then, there they are, living out their little lives with supernatural strength in the midst of the raging forces of a big bad world. They remind me of David, with armies looking on, staring down the giant in the land. Appearances can be deceiving for sure.

You think I’m being melodramatic but I’m really not. These little guys inspire me to no end. Those bitter cold winds and sub-zero temperatures do their utmost to drive away any sign of life and, meanwhile, what does the little chickadee do? He just keeps on doing his thing, the thing that God created him to do. There are these people who have been given a strong voice in our world today that boldly proclaim that all of this incredible creation we see around us just happened, by chance and without cause. They want us to believe that if things were to just somehow happen, this is what we would somehow end up with! They profess to have an answer for everything. I don’t hear any real answers coming out of their mouths at all; just a lot of bitter cold rhetoric and nasty animosity towards God; a lot of ranting and raving and going on. But, if you disagree with them they will belittle you and intimidate you. Don’t think so, just ask a Christian on a university campus. They are like bullies on the playground who want everyone to cower before them in hopes that it will somehow sooth their own self-doubt.

Yeah, I know, they have an explanation for how the blood flow in those little feet allow the little guys to function in such a cold climate, quite comfortably I’m sure. They have an explanation for everything. They have all the answers. They’d really like you to think so. But they don’t seem to realize that they really haven’t explained anything. Science tells us how things are. It doesn’t tell us how it came to be, at least real science hasn’t explained that. Pseudo science maybe “… a hundred million years ago…” Give me a break!!! More importantly, they can’t explain WHY?! Why what? Why anything! They have no ‘why’. They have no ‘why’… no meaning… no purpose… no hope… no One… Why, even a little chickadee defies their unbelief. I just love those little guys.

“Has God not made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom did not know him… But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things.”

“But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds of the air, and they will tell you;
or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish of the sea inform you. Which of all these does not know that the hand of the LORD has done this? In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.”

Florence's Chickens

My wife Florence has had it in her mind, I should really say in her heart, for quite some time now, that she really would like to have chickens. I’m beginning to think that she may be wishing she had married a farmer rather than a pastor.

Not to be deterred, she is a very innovative woman. When you look at this picture you probably see pheasants but Florence calls them her ‘chickens’. I guess she figures that if she can’t have real chickens she’ll have substitute ‘chickens’.

Don’t be fooled though. She is not only innovative, she is also determined. Florence cuts my hair. She has for as long as we’ve been a couple, but a while back I started paying her. It’s kind of fun really. I even give her a good big tip every time. She takes the money each time and she is saving it up for - ? - you guessed it – chickens! And now you know why I’ve been wearing my hair so short these days. It began about the same time that Florence decided that chickens were in her future.

Of course, to have chickens you have to have a place to keep them and it has to be warm and dry and sheltered from the wind. Let’s just say that it isn’t likely to happen in the near future. So, for now, all winter long, she lovingly puts cracked corn out for her substitute ‘chickens’. The crows get their share, of course, but she derives great delight out of watching her ‘chickens’ make their little pilgrimage up the driveway from the river bank each morning and afternoon for a feed of sweet corn.

Paul tells us we need to be content with what we have (1Tim 6). It occurs to me that there is a very strong correlation between, being content with what we have, and learning to appreciate what we’ve got. What happens so often is that we get so focused on all of the desirable features of those things we want but don’t have, that we overlook the really cool things about what we do have. It’s almost like a type of spiritual blindness, the result of which means we can miss out by failing to enjoy or appreciate all of the good things that God has allowed into our lives. Someone has said that “contentment is simply wanting what you have”. I guess that is the wisdom behind the ancient counsel to ‘count our blessings’.

Who knows, maybe someday Florence will get to have real chickens that sit and lay eggs and everything. Until then, something tells me she will continue to take great delight in feeding the pheasants and the crows and a host of other creatures. As for the rest of us, maybe we can console ourselves in the fact that, though the grass may not appear as green where we are on this side of the fence, at least we don’t have to put up with the bull either. I might not be a farmer but I do know what makes grass green.

Old Friends

Ted Davidson died last weekend. I conducted his funeral service on Tuesday. Ted and Winnie Davidson were neighbours of ours when I was a kid growing up at home. Many days I would jump on my bike and peddle up to Ted and Winnie’s to play with their son Lyle on the farm. My own dad had stopped farming by the time I was old enough to have a hand in it, but I have many memories from my childhood of time spent on Ted and Winnie’s farm.

Ted was a quiet man but a great story teller. He always seemed to have time for people whether it was just to visit or to help out someone who needed a helping hand. And that included little people too! I don’t think I ever saw the man in a hurry. He loved life. He loved people. He loved his family.

Children have a unique vantage point when it comes to judging character. They have a way of slipping under our radar, especially after they’ve been around for a while. People generally don’t think of children as being in any position to further their cause one way or another and you don’t get anywhere by impressing children nor have anything to gain from them really. As a result, children often get to see the real person that others don’t get to see.

Ted Davidson was a gentle man. I always liked him; always felt safe and good around him. He had a way of making you feel special like you were somebody; somebody important, even though you were ‘just a kid’. He always seemed glad to see me and genuinely interested in me and how I was doing. You know, they talk about the measure of a man, but sometimes it isn’t easy to really get to know people because we can all put up a pretty good front. But, you can tell a lot about a man when you show up unexpectedly at meal time, tramp through his house, tear his hay mow apart to build forts and tunnels and piles to jump in, chase his cows around the pasture… and Ted was just a truly great man. He was one of the most patient men with children that I can remember from my past, and to me, that really says something. Especially when I consider my own lack of patience a lot of the time.

Then last Friday night I got a call from Lyle. He told me that his dad was not likely going to make it. He was in the hospital and heavily sedated. Lyle asked me if I could swing by and visit for a bit with his mom who was home alone. With that knot that you get in your stomach at times like that, I jumped in the car and headed up the road and landed at the door of that old familiar farm house where Winnie greeted me and welcomed me in just like old times. We talked for a while and then I said to her, “Winnie the last time I was here to visit I left a little something for Ted and you to read through. Do you remember that?”

In October of 2008, as Florence and I were preparing to go on a sabbatical leave that would take us away until last summer I had stopped by Ted and Winnie’s for a little visit and we talked a little about the Lord that day and I prayed with them. And as I was leaving I said, “I want to leave you a little something to read and the next time I get to visit with you I’d like to talk about it.” Ted accepted and I slid a simple gospel tract into his big hand that warm sunny October afternoon.

Now, sitting in their quiet kitchen on a cold icy February evening, I waited to see if she would even remember. Without a word, she slowly and with difficulty, raised herself up from the coach we were sitting on and, with the help of a cane, made her way across the old farm kitchen. Reaching up to a shelf above the stove she took down that same gospel tract and brought it back across the room and placed it in my hand. She said, Ted was waiting my return so he could give it to me.

I was kind of trying to remember myself what it was exactly that I had left with them for though I remembered leaving something, I didn’t remember which tract it was. It was a simple explanation of the gospel. It talked about how we all need to acknowledge our sin to God (Rom 3:23) and put our faith in Jesus Christ to receive forgiveness and to be saved for all eternity (Jn 3:16). It had a place on the back where you could make a decision and sign your name to it. And there it was – ‘James Lawrence Davidson’ (‘Ted’ was a nickname that everyone, including his family, used). There was a place for your address and also for your age. He had written it in – 91 ½.

I can’t tell you how good I felt the moment I flipped that tract over in my hand and sat there suddenly staring at that man’s signature on that piece of paper; that man who had been so kind to me as a young boy, that man who had been such a gentle and patient influence in my young life; such a grand friend for a little neighbour to have. But I can tell you that at that moment my spirit was giving thanks to God.

You really miss people when they die, even if you haven’t spent a lot of time with them really for many years, you just kind of like to have them around because the world just seems like such a better place with them in it. And you always wish you could just see them one more time and hear them speak and watch them tell a story.

But, need I remind you, that is exactly what heaven is for. And Ted is just one more person I will be looking forward to seeing there. How about you?