Hens and Chickens
Page 28
And that’s how Lila Woodsum – who only six weeks before her wedding had proclaimed that she would need to be taken out of the old Russell homestead in a box! – ended up in Aroostook County, in northern Maine, where she and Mike now abide with her beloved father in the homestead that has housed seven generations of Hobarts. Lila has taken over the marketing of Hobart Farms, the family potato and broccoli business, now run jointly by John and Mike Hobart. Lila and I follow each other on Twitter, and she tweets regularly of her new family’s adventures in Maple Grove. Just a few days ago, in early August, in fact, Lila sent me a Direct Message saying that they were expecting a new addition to the eighth generation of Hobarts!
Those hens and chickens have a way of multiplying, my pips, as time marches along!
Now, have I forgotten anybody?
Ah, yes, me!
I was fortunate enough to secure additional itinerant ministry work this spring and early summer with the First Universalist Church of Norway (Maine), which was my Gram’s church. In addition, I also filled the pulpit for their sister church, the West Paris Universalist Church. There I preached about Good versus Evil, and the importance of unconditional, self-less, downright honest love.
All three churches, however, are closed for July and August (and since my daughter, Nellie, is spending her summer break touring Australia with a friend), I’ve had plenty of time write down this story—a little tale about hens and chickens; pips and peepers; love, and well, love. As I glance out the leaded-glass window of my church office, I see that the goldenrod is about to burst into glorious bloom, signaling that it’s almost time for my annual skedaddle through the field next to my home on the Cross Road.
Some of you might wonder why I strip bare-assed naked and trot like Lady Godiva (only without the “hoss”) under the hot August sun through the fuzzy golden blooms. Why, my pips?
I run in the natural state – the state in which God created us – to remind myself that we 21st century pips do NOT need to isolate ourselves from the joy that we need to thrive. Our hearts and heads and souls and bodies belong together—not cleaved apart like freestone fruit!
I run naked through the goldenrod to show that I’m not powerless! That what is doesn’t necessarily have to be!
And, last (but probably not least) … I run bare-assed naked through the goldenrod to give the good-hearted folks of Sovereign something to talk about!
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter Ten
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33