My eyes

You know you grew up Charismatic when chasing your wounded duck around your yard to end its life makes you wonder what God is speaking to you through this. In the chaos of my day, more like my whole week , He was speaking . He is always speaking.

Drinking my morning cup of coffee, or gallon ….. I noticed our sweet duck looked like he was in a serious fight for his life. I went out to the chicken coop to find several other of our flock had been killed in the middle of the night. Wouldn’t ya know it , Matt was already at work and I had to deal with this alone. It would be fine right? I mean, I referee wrestling matches all day. I hold down children all day to wipe up poop, make them apologize to their siblings for knocking them in the head with a baseball bat, and generally try to keep the peace between everyone. I could kill a duck. I had a c section. I’ve got this.

I decided I couldn’t let him suffer all day. The poor little dude was walking around so casually , trying to keep up with the Rooster, who is clearly the boss. Don’t get me started on my opinion that he is abusive to the women. He probably has several illegitimate children he isn’t paying child support for. Man whore.

I reluctantly fetched my favorite knife, the only big one I have…and some rubber dish washing gloves. Then I was on CSI. Kids, hush … Momma needs to go commit murder. Brb.

It was on. I was dressed for Target, not Wal Mart mind you. I felt confident in my attempt to end Ducky’s life. I chased him around the yard for a good while. This chick doesn’t work out, so this was my exercise for the year. Finally I caught up with him, grabbed him by the tail feathers and started chopping. Yes, chopping. Freaking dull knife. That wasn’t working. I slammed him against the tree and he fell lifeless down the hill. I changed the Chanel from CSI to Dr Phil. Cried a little. Felt a little bad.

I disposed of the knife and rubber gloves in my outside trash can. I was a criminal. Maybe I should bag these up? Nah, I need a beer. I drank said beer , then shoveled the other two dead chickens into the woods. Rip.

A couple hours later, I figured I should probably burying him. I went up the hill to find he was still holding on for dear life. What? This thing won’t die. Little dude was quoting scripture :” I will not die , but live and proclaim the good things he has done.” Bless him.

I had no choice but to drown him in the river. I had gone this far, I couldn’t let him suffer more. Naturally I grabbed the crappiest towel I had, wrapped him up and threw him in the river. It was finished. Then I cried more. Silently .

If there is one thing that I have learned lately , in this season of my life …. Is that he is speaking . Literally all the time. We just have to listen.

“Ok Lord, can this week get any worse? What else ?!” He was quick to speak. As usual.

“. Rachel, notice what was wounded the most in your flock. Their eyes. The attacker attacked their eyes first, as to distract them. The enemy has been trying his best to distract your eyes from what is good. From my plans for your family. From the great blessing of your home.” I was undone. How could I succumb to negativity this week, when I needed to fight. The most hurtful thing we can do to satan is be peaceful in the midst of battle. Be confident that our defender has won. We have already overcome this world. He that is in me is confident. Is peaceful. I can choose rest. You see, Satan hates my happiness. He hates that the desires of my heart have been fulfilled.

I’m so grateful to my Father, that he speaks to us. Comforts us. Molds us. Just listen.