The July sun has a way of slowing everything down here at Faithful Flock Farm. On a Thursday afternoon like today, the air feels heavy and warm, and the only real way to find relief is to step into the shade of the porch. We were sitting out there just yesterday, sipping on a cold fruit smoothie and watching the gentle rhythm of the barnyard. There is a specific kind of peace that comes from watching the birds go about their day, unaware of the busy world beyond our fences.
As we looked toward the coop, we couldn't help but notice the stark difference between two of our hens, Mama Grace and Mama Esther. It was one of those moments where the lessons of the farm seemed to mirror the lessons of our own walk with God. Sometimes, the most profound truths aren't found in a loud sermon, but in the quiet, steady obedience of a broody hen.
Two Mamas and Two Different Seasons
In one corner of the yard, Mama Grace was the picture of a busy, blessed mother. She was surrounded by a tumbling, chirping cloud of eleven tiny babies. They are at that precious stage where they are all fluff and energy, darting out from under her wings to peck at a blade of grass before scurrying back for safety. It is a noisy, joyful, and very visible kind of blessing. When you look at Mama Grace, you see the fruit of the wait. You see the "after" picture that we all hope for when we start a journey.
But then, our eyes drifted to the nesting box where Mama Esther was tucked away.
Mama Esther is currently "broody," which is our farm way of saying she has decided it is time to be a mother. She isn't out in the grass enjoying the summer sun or scratching for treats with the rest of the flock. Instead, she is sitting perfectly still on four eggs. Compared to Mama Grace’s eleven lively chicks, Esther’s corner of the coop felt very quiet and very still.
It was easy to imagine what might be going through her head. If hens could feel the same tugs of comparison that we do, she might have been looking out at Mama Grace with a heavy heart. She might have wondered why Grace was blessed with a dozen tiny lives while she was still sitting in the dark, waiting on just four.
The Weight of the Wait
We have all been in Mama Esther’s position. We find ourselves in a season of waiting, perhaps praying for a health breakthrough, a restored relationship, or a new direction in our work. We sit on our "eggs," those dreams and promises we believe God has placed under our care, and we wait.
The hardest part of the wait is often the view from the nest. When we look out and see others who are already walking in their "hatching" season, it is so easy for jealousy to creep in. We see a friend celebrate the very thing we are still crying out for. We see a neighbor’s "flock" growing while ours remains hidden beneath the straw.
But as we watched Mama Esther yesterday, we realized something important about her stewardship. She wasn't leaving her nest to try and steal Grace's chicks. She wasn't making a fuss or abandoning her post because the count was lower. She was simply, quietly, and faithfully staying where she was called to be. She was choosing to hope in the four eggs she had, rather than despairing over the eleven she didn't.
Stewardship in the Stillness
At Faithful Flock Farm, we often talk about how faithfulness isn't flashy. Most of what we do involves the same steady tasks, day after day. We check the bedding, we provide fresh water, and we wait for the eggs to be laid. Mama Esther’s current job is the ultimate form of this quiet consistency.
Sitting on eggs is a sacrifice. A broody hen eats less, moves less, and loses the "glamour" of being out in the field. She gives up her comfort for the sake of a promise she cannot yet see. There is no heartbeat audible to her, and there is no movement she can detect through the shell. She just knows, by a deep and quiet instinct, that if she stays faithful, life will come.
This is the "Steward's Requirement" that we try to live by every day. We prioritize care over competition, and we trust that the size of the blessing isn't nearly as important as the faithfulness of the one holding it. Whether God has given you eleven chicks or four eggs, the call remains the same: to stay on the nest and trust the process.
Finding Courage When the Heart is Weary
Waiting is not a passive act. It takes a tremendous amount of strength to remain still when everything in you wants to hurry the process along. We sometimes want to "crack the shell" ourselves, trying to force a result before it is ready. But as any farmer knows, if you help a chick out of the egg too early, it won't be strong enough to survive the world outside. The struggle inside the shell is what builds the strength they need to breathe and walk.
Our own seasons of waiting are often where our spiritual "muscles" are formed. It is in the dark, quiet places that we learn to lean entirely on God’s grace rather than our own efforts. We learn that hope isn't the absence of waiting, but the presence of trust while we wait.
We looked at Mama Esther and saw courage. It takes courage to be the one still waiting when the party has already started for someone else. It takes courage to believe that your "four" are just as precious to the Creator as someone else’s "eleven."
The Promise of the Hatch
We don't know exactly when Mama Esther’s eggs will hatch, but we know that we will be there to celebrate when they do. We will provide the same nursery beginnings and hands-on care for her little ones as we did for Grace's. Every life on this farm is gathered with care and held with quiet trust.
If you are in a season of waiting today, we want to encourage you to stay on your nest. Do not let the noise of someone else’s success drown out the quiet promise God has whispered to your heart. Your timing is not a mistake, and your delay is not a denial. God is doing a work in the hidden places, and He is a master at making all things beautiful in their time.
We are so grateful for the lessons these hens teach us about the story behind our farm. It is a story built on "quiet yeses" and steady obedience. We’d love to hear from you if you’re in a season of waiting too. Sometimes just knowing a neighbor is praying for you can make the nest feel a little warmer.
Let's choose to be like Mama Esther today. Let's choose hope, let's choose patience, and let's choose to trust the one who knows exactly when it's time to hatch.
Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD! ( Psalm 27:14)
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