When I was a child, my grandpa was a chicken farmer. My cousins and I all “helped” Gramps with the chores. We had little buckets that he made for us. He had a large pail to carry feed in, but since we were not full grown, we had scaled down versions that were made from what I remember to be used lard containers. Back then lard and a few other things came in pails that had handles. Gramps took them and made our little work pails out of them. A few of us kept up with the “helping” and as we got bigger and Gramps got older, I think there was a moment where we actually became helpful to him and made his load lighter. Now, for those of you who have never been so blessed as to work in a chicken barn, you may find the rest of this story a little bit intimidating, as far as your future view of the poultry barn.
The other day I spoke with one of my first cousins who still lives in Maine. I hadn’t been in direct contact with him since about 2001, although I do hear about him and his family through the family grapevine. Whilst we were catching each other up on the latest family news and status, our conversations inevitably drifted back to those earlier days when we worked on the farm with our grandpa. It turned out that I had also been in recent contact with a couple of other cousins. The conversations with them had also included the farm days. Now here’s the interesting part of all of this reminiscing: I had casually asked all of these cousins, who had shared this “farm experience”, if they liked chicken. “No!” was the answer. It seems that we all have learned to tolerate it, but most everyone did not eat it until they got married and their new spouses, who did not have that “farm experience”, ate chicken. In short we all eat it because our spouses like it and so we tolerate it. Equally interesting is the fact that my cousin and I both now raise chickens of our own.
The work we did on the chicken farm revealed the less attractive attributes of these birds. They are less then hygienic and are very aggressive toward one another. The term “hen-pecked” is not just a made up term. It is derived from the “Pecking Order” that these little rascals use, the end of which is actually pecking the victim chicken to death. With hundreds of birds in the barn, the effects of the pecking plus things such as heat exhaustion caused a steady attrition rate.
Chickens huddle together a lot, so the dead birds were not always readily visible. Every week we would walk the barn and find dead birds that had been overlooked during the normal course of daily care. They were not in very good condition after lying there for days. We would pick them up and throw them outside, into a pile. Gross! This experience was a common experience for us all and helped to mold the menus that are used in some twenty households which now range from Maine to Washington State. There was no discussion, no collaboration, not plotting or conspiring. We only now, some 35-ish years later, are comparing notes and realizing the common results that this common experience has yielded. My mind immediately focused on this lesson of common experiences creating common perspectives. I suddenly realized why God gave so much attention in His Word to the importance of family and community. Families and communities share life experiences together and without even realizing it, they are building like-mindedness. When that community’s focus is on living Godly, we grow together experientially. This creates unity and continuity in families as well as in church families. The more we experience together, the more unity we develop. It may affect the menu, but it will certainly affect the atmosphere around the supper table. Become inspired to share your life with your family of God with a renewed passion, commitment and vigor and then watch the connection grow and your feelings of belonging flourish. Blessings!

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