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Not again.

All that hard work, stacking the firewood in a nice neat row. and now it lay on the ground. Not looking forward to the task of restacking it, I put it off for two days. Finally, deciding it was time, I marched out into the cool September evening.

Several minutes into the task, I lifted a chock of wood to find the golden feathers of my favorite hen. Sadness rushed into my heart. She’d been caught beneath the pile. Crushed. I hadn’t even finished mourning the loss of my eight-year-old hen when I saw her body quiver. Hope leapt within me. Was she alive?

Pulling off another piece of wood, I nearly laughed when I saw her pop her head up and look around. I took her from the pile and packed her home. Other than a few ruffled feathers and a slight limp, she appeared to be okay.

Minutes after releasing her from the heavy weight of the wood that lay atop her, my little golden hen limped around the yard and sang. Her song as happy as if she had never suffered under the wood pile for two long days. I imagined she kept telling herself someone would find her. And here she was singing with her feathers standing out in every direction, hobbling across the yard.

Oh, that I were more like her. When life deals me a heavy blow and the weight of the world presses on me. When I feel like giving up. And even after the struggle is over and the storm has passed, and I cannot seem to get my song back. My joy somehow robbed during the long nights as I await rescue. I feel as though I need retribution for the pain I have suffered. But I learned a powerful lesson.

We should be more like the hen in the woodpile. Letting go of the hardships we suffer. Releasing the pain that has stacked upon us unexpectedly.

Ask God to help you find your song again … even after the harshest of storms.

(Photo courtesy of pixabay.)

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