Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

faith & spirituality

I know why the chicken crossed the road

It was a beautiful Saturday evening when we ventured out for a long walk as a family around our neighborhood. There’s a picturesque path on the edge of town that offers a view of our humble borough that I can’t quite capture with a camera but that takes my breath away every time. My husband and I have taken this particular walk numerous times, and when we were training for a 5K (that feels like eons ago) it was one of our circuits.

On this night, we brought the kids, who we were certain would poop out before the end, but who said they were game.

All was well until we descended the hill back into town, toward the farm where our favorite cows live. A man jogging past us slowed down and said, “Watch out for the chicken. He’ll get ya!” My husband and I exchanged a look and offered him a patronizing “okay!” and a friendly wave. Seconds later, a car slowed down and the driver yelled out the window: “Did someone warn you about the chicken?” We said “yes” and they drove on. I’m not kidding you when I say that seconds after that, another car did the same thing, prompting our imaginations to create a chicken of Stay-Puf Marshmallow Man proportions (Ghostbusters, if you have no idea what I’m talking about).

Not the chicken that chased us. In case you were wondering ...

Not the chicken that chased us. In case you were wondering …

We became extra vigilant as we approached the farmhouse, and the kids were starting to sense it. Our 5-year-old started freaking out and our 3-year-old wanted to be carried. We spotted the chicken on the other side of the road (literally) and thought maybe we could sneak past without notice. Just as we were about to pass, one of the farmers rolled up in his work truck. He nodded in the direction of the chicken and said, “His name’s Henry. He’ll peck your shoelaces.”

We nervously laughed and kept walking, hoping the chicken wouldn’t see us.

It was false hope.

That chicken was across the road quicker than a “cock-a-doodle-doo.” Not knowing what else to do, we started running, which freaked our daughter out more and winded all of us. Let me offer you this word of warning: If you think outrunning a chicken is easy, think again! I know it wasn’t going to hurt us, but for a few moments, I felt like an actor in a horror movie being chased by a wild man wielding a weapon. That chicken could run. (Which by the way is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. Not at all graceful.)

We made it beyond the chicken’s borders, I guess, and were able to stop and catch our breath and calm our daughter and laugh a little. We weren’t far from home, but it did take us a while to recover. The kids didn’t go to sleep easily that night and they’ve been talking about the rooster scare ever since.

As the kids and I walked around a different block a few days later, I thought about the chicken incident and how it could be one of those things that keeps me from walking the path with the beautiful view. I could avoid it from now on, out of fear of another chicken chase, or I could dare to walk it anyway.

Fear could make me miss a beautiful view.

One night last month, I went downstairs to get laundry out of the dryer and I saw a bat fly toward me. I hustled up the stairs and didn’t go back down there for a week. Necessity forced me past my fear, but even as I take care of laundry business downstairs now, I still wonder if there’s a bat down there.

Fear could keep me from doing what needs to be done.

Years ago, when Steve Irwin (you know, the Crocodile Hunter guy) died from a stingray attack while filming a documentary, I remember how much criticism he received, posthumously, for living such a risky life. Because it got him killed, people assumed it wasn’t worth the risk. But anyone who watched Irwin’s show (I was slightly obsessed with him at the time; I have the action figure to prove it) could sense that the guy loved his job. Yes, his job came with risk, but he did it anyway.

Fear could keep me from living an adventurous life doing what I love.

Photo by Kristin Smith/courtesy of Stock Exchange (www.sxc.hu)

Photo by Kristin Smith/courtesy of Stock Exchange (www.sxc.hu)

Those “why did the chicken cross the road?” jokes are probably as old as time, and honestly, I don’t have THE answer. But maybe the chicken crossed the road because he really did want to get to the other side.

Maybe he was tired of all the other chickens warning him of what would happen if he tried to cross the road. (You might get hit by a car! There might not be food! You don’t know what it’s like over there!)

Maybe he was curious. Or adventurous. Or just plain dumb.

No matter the reason, the jokes all start with the same premise: the chicken crossed the road.

And joke or no joke, we can learn a lot from a chicken.

Because I don’t know about you, but I know about me. And I’ve spent a lot of time letting fear keep me on one side of the road while I wonder what’s on the other side of the road.

Even if it takes me the rest of my life to cross to the other side, I’m taking the first step and kicking fear to the curb.

Who’s coming with me?

5 on Friday: Questions for author Ginny Yttrup

Author Ginny Yttrup’s third book, Invisible, released this week. You can read my review of it here.

Today, Ginny stops by to talk about writing, St. Augustine and her journey with God. ginny yttrup

1. How long have you been writing?

I began writing about 20 years ago. I had no education, but I had a dream. I began attending writers conferences, learned all I could, and 17 years into my writing journey, my first book, Words, was published. My writing journey is one of faith and perseverance.

2. Describe your writing routine/schedule.

Well, sadly, I work best under pressure. So typically, I wait until the last minute to begin a manuscript and then I write under panicked circumstances! That means, I’ll write 10-12 hours a day. I’m a slow writer, so I may not accomplish a large word count during that time, but it’s what I do. I’ll wake early—5:30 to 6:00 a.m., grab a cup of coffee, and go back to bed with the coffee and my computer. I’ll write until I feel the need to move.

Because I have major back issues due to reconstructive back surgery several years ago and rods and screws from my shoulder blades to my pelvis, I can’t stay in one position for too long. So once the pain hits, I move. I’ll get up and take a walk or a hot shower and then sit in a chair for a couple of hours and write some more. Then I’ll move back to bed where I can write from a flat position—often with an icepack beneath me.

I’ll write until 6:00 or 7:00 p.m. at the latest. I can’t think after that. Then I’ll go to bed by about 8:00 p.m. and start the whole thing over the next day. Coffee and exercise and chocolate sustain me during those writing months. And God’s mercy envelops me and strengthens me! Also, besides my kids and my housemates, I don’t typically see anyone during those months of writing.

3. In what ways were you inspired by St. Augustine in the writing of Invisible?

Oh, Saint Augustine. I really didn’t like him at first! He seemed like a gluttonous womanizer. But I stumbled upon a quote of his that was so enlightening. It tumbled around in my brain and I couldn’t seem to let it go. The quote is listed, along with two verses, in the beginning of Invisible. I finally picked up his life story—Confessions—and read it. Mind you, this man lived in the fourth century, so I was certain I’d feel no connection to him. But as I read his confession—the sins he struggled with and his transformation through Jesus Christ, I felt like I’d met a soul mate. People are the same through the ages. We are created in the image of God and we live in a fallen world and struggle against our sin nature. We are all the same—uniquely made—but our struggle and, for Christians, our salvation through Christ, is universal. I think if we accepted that fact more readily, we’d see less prejudice in our society.

4. In the book you talk about how important it is not to “edit your life” – how are you living out the power of that statement these days?

I live that statement by attempting to live authentically. I live by a “what you see is what you get” principle. That doesn’t mean that I share everything about my life with everyone. But it does mean that I attempt to live the truth and share the truth when appropriate. Sometimes, I’d much rather edit out the ugly parts of my life rather than share my failures with others or share the pain of my past or present, but God keeps nudging me to speak truth.

5. In what ways is God calling you out of hiding these days, calling you not to try and be “invisible,” calling you to live out the reality of Imago Dei in your life?

Ah…living life “visible” is one of my greatest challenges. I’d much rather hide away. MUCH rather! Yet God…  As I look back on my life, I realize now that God’s been calling me out of hiding my entire life. As an abused child—one who was sexually abused between the ages of 2 and 14, I never wanted to do anything but hide. I couldn’t tell the truth. I hated who I was. School was torture for me. I attended 5 different schools during my elementary years—so I was always the new girl and I was painfully shy. I hid behind that shyness and all that pain.

As a teenager, I hid behind alcohol and drugs.

These days, whenever I feel like hiding, I push myself out. That doesn’t mean that I don’t have days where I want to stay home—so I do—but instead, I’ve learned the difference between being an introvert who recharges by spending quiet time alone, and being asked to do something or go somewhere and letting fear keep me bound.

The two most personally challenging ways I’m visible these days is through marketing my books—that act of stewardship of the message God’s given me that so often feels like self-promotion. And through speaking to groups. The fact that I speak at events and retreats is simply one of God’s healing miracles in my life.

But it becomes easier and easier to live life in front of others when I take my eyes off myself—die to self—and instead focus on who God is and who He created me to be. I am created in His image! When I hide in shame—I hide Him too. I no longer want to do that. Instead, I pray He’ll shine through me—that His glory will be visible to those I encounter.