I was carrying Number Seven to the chicken shed when Bruce said, “You might want to let her stay in the barn. They’ll kill her if you put her with the flock.”
I set the hen on Tessie’s stall. The flock had begun attacking her mercilessly. Her back was scabbed and bare. Now she has her own pellets and water. We make sure she has places to hide. Then a strange thing happened. Six joined her in the evenings, perching alongside her, though she returns to the flock during the day.
My hen, in hiding from the flock, found a way to thrive. Her feathers are burnished copper like new pennies layered along her body. She has meat on her bones.
I believe that where you go, there you are, that the problems you experience in one community may follow you to the next, so you might as well stay put and work it out. But now I’m not so sure.
Sometimes it might be wisest to walk away and find people that receive you, shaking off the ones who don’t. Even Jesus said, if a village doesn’t accept you, shake the dust off your feet and move on to one that does.
Who knows? Like our empathetic chicken, a friend may step away from the group and come alongside and start the healing.
I’m Katie Andraski, and this is my perspective.
