“Jesus, please. Anything but lime wash today.”
“Courtney’s team, lime wash!”
“Okay. Okay, that’s fine. Just anything but the pig pens.
“In the chicken coop that is.”
“Oh my gosh… That’s worse.”
I gathered the tools for the day in my hands, shovels, long handled brushes, brooms, a scraper, and a whole heck of a lot of courage. I. Hate. Chickens. I don’t know what it is about them, maybe their razor sharp talons, their piercing screams, the beady, unblinking eyes. All I know is I’m a chicken when it comes to chickens, and the ten that are housed on the far corner of the farm in Lezhë I’ve been working on for the past week are no exception. As I pushed open the gate to the enclosure that, as far as I was concerned, housed a handful of little demons I thought, “Yep, just as I remembered them, terrifying.”
I stumbled across the rocky yard to the three foot by five foot coop. The chickens, all gathered in a corner of the yard and just stared, like we had interrupted them at the most inconvenient time. My team shuffled in behind me and we all stood in silence as I pushed open the door. The coop wasn’t just dirty, it looked neglected, like a haunted house. Cobwebs clung to every surface, blowing in the wind like swatches of gruesome lace adorned with spiders and dead flies. The chicken poop on the floor looked like it had been festering there for years and seemed to have cemented into the wood.
A collective, almost rehearsed, sigh echoed throughout the yard as we delegated jobs and passed out tools. I grabbed a broom to knock out the cobwebs as everyone else decided on which they thought would be the best of the worst jobs and we got to work. Emily climbed inside first but almost immediately stumbled back out, screaming as she did so. The rest of the team eyed her and peered curiously into the coop, then we all screamed as a hen flew through the narrow doorway in a fiery and feathery, red mess aimed straight for all of our faces, I dived out of the way as everyone else grabbed their heads and covered their faces. I. Hate. Chickens.
After checking to make sure the coop was clear of the little monsters, Emily climbed in once more, pointing out that the hen had left us a little surprise, an egg. “Great,” I thought, “they’re reproducing.” I grabbed my broom once more and entered in.
After about an hour of twisting cobwebs through the bristles of my broom and brushing real as well as paranoia induced imaginary spiders off of my arms and legs I stepped back out and admired our handy work. The walls and ceiling were clear of webs and the rest of the team had worked tirelessly to chisel chicken poop off of the floor and into a now full trashcan. At that moment, George (our ministry host) walked into the pen. He had come to give us the all clear to start lime washing the coop. I bounced nervously on my heels as he circled the coop, scratching his chin and rubbing his head. “Good.” He said, we were free to lime wash and it wasn’t even eleven yet, as he turned to leave he stopped and added, “Oh, yes. All the rocks on this half of the yard I want piled up on that half of the yard, the chickens need more dirt space.” My heart sunk as I eyed the 30 square feet of broken bricks, stones, clay pots, and gravel that George pointed out.
Half of us got to work piling rocks, and for two hours that’s what we did. I got into a rhythm, stoop, gather, stand, throw, repeat, only stopping to drink. My rhythm and my heart both came to a screeching halt as Maddy, my team mate, let out a horror movie worthy scream. I whipped around just in time to watch a snake slide out from the pile of rocks, and slither across her feet further into the yard. Abigale, a girl from another team who’d come to help sprang into action grabbing a shovel, she beheaded the snake just before it escaped through the chain link fence.
We all left the enclosure snake in hand (well snake in shovel held at a respectable distance from out bodies) and paraded our kill throughout the farm, returning only after we were sure we’d shocked all the rest of our squad mates. When we stepped back into the chicken yard I was appalled to see the chickens all occupying the space I had been clearing rocks from. I knew it, they really did hate me, they sensed my fear and they were now playing mind games with me. But as I inched closer I realized what they were actually doing. The big rocks I had picked up and cleared had unearthed hundreds of tiny bugs, worms, and other chicken goodies. The flock scratched and pecked at the feast beneath them letting out the occasional happy cluck. I tried to be mad but couldn’t, it actually made me happy to see them happy. I had worked hard to clean their coop and move the rocks so seeing the chickens, as silly as it seems, appreciate my work made my heart flutter.
In Matthew, Jesus says, “You’ve heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, ‘love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you,’” (Mt. 5:43-44) and “’For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have?’” (Mt. 5:46). I don’t have many enemies, and maybe chickens don’t really count as enemies, but I really do not like chickens. Today, that changed though, seeing their happiness was a far greater reward than I had expected. I’m glad my team got the opportunity to do manual labor on a farm for two weeks before heading to Tirana to do ministry with actual people. The shovels, lime wash, pigs and chickens taught me a whole lot about hard work, perseverance, and loving the things you hate. I don’t see myself visiting the chickens any time soon if I can avoid it, but I’ll tolerate them from afar and probably avoid eating chicken for awhile out of respect to my new friends.
