Thinking after midnight

So I'm sitting here after midnight, eating almonds. At the moment everyone else in the house is sleeping. I should be sleeping too, but instead I'm busy thinking...

I'm thinking about the knoepfle soup I made today, how good and satisfying the chicken was that I used. Very satisfying. Satisfying in a very different way than using home grown vegetables.

That chicken arrived in the mail as a three day old chick in a cardboard box, last spring. I watched it grow from adorable and fluffy, to gawky teenager learning to crow, to big trouble rooster.

It was my decision to move him from coop to kitchen.

In that moment I was able to thank him for his life, knowing he had a real one. He spent his days scratching and singing out in the sun, interacting with the social order of the flock... so different from the lives of store-bought chickens.

In taking his life, I was mindfully aware of what my food really cost. I went from chick in my hand, to axe in my hand, to soup in my bowl. Amazingly good soup, but satisfaction on so many different levels.

I feel a connection to the prairie women of days past, who put chicken on the table in exactly the same way.

But I'm also thinking about how life can be so cruel. So many people are hurting. Hearts are breaking.

So many of us believe there is more than just this world, but what is beyond, we don't understand. We cry out to God, but often don't feel anything. The world is still cold and lonely.

In losing human lives, it makes us mindfully aware of just how short our time here is.

It makes us uncomfortable.

There are times we just want to feel warm and safe, there are times we just want someone to hold us, and tell us it will be alright. But all we can do is hope, and pray, and through our tears watch the sun come up tomorrow.