 You Were Meant to Soar!!-June Brown ©
I was born in a chicken run, well actually in the dark coloured shed next to the plant pots, I think?
I was a fine looking chicken or so I thought, I had light whitish grey sort of fluffy down feathers back in those days, whilst my brothers and sisters were pale yellow, but I guess they looked sweet. I had three brothers and sisters. I often wondered why I was different!
Mother Hen looked after us from the day we were born, Grand Mother Hen said it was even before that, since Mother Hen sat on the eggs with us inside them, keeping us warm and willing for us to hatch. I wouldn't know about that.
I was happy enough in those early years. Feeding time was my most favourite, I was always first in the queue to the trough, my legs seemed more springy and stronger than my siblings. It used to infuriate my brothers and daily they would try to beat me to the food first, but they never succeeded.
Chasing each other round the run was great fun, it was quite exhausting keeping it up all day long, but there wasn't much else to do. I often wondered just why we were all there and what for. It wasn't long before discontentment set in and I got rather bored with it all. I knew deep down there was something very different about me.
The desire to fly never left me and I often tried, but I always crashed into the wire netting with my head.
Mother Hen used to screech at me, 'Boy, chickens don't fly, stop that, or you'll kill yourself!'
One time when we were allowed outside the run, I climbed onto a rock and tried to fly, I just about did it too, but the Farmer came and called us all in again. When I looked Mother Hen was shielding the eyes of my brother and sisters so that they wouldn't see me get hurt. Her stern look told me I was in trouble again.
I wanted to be obedient to my Mother, because I did love her so and I knew she really did love me and was only trying to take care of me and yet the thought of flying seem to possess me. I thought of nothing else. Another thing, I noticed my beak was rather long and pointed and my feet had huge nail type things on them. None of my siblings had those funny pointed things coming out of their toes. It was all very peculiar.
I couldn't speak human very well, but I could understand some of what they said. I remember the day when the tall man in a green shirt and trousers came into the run. He spoke in a strange accent, some of the hens said it was Irish. It just sounded human language to me with a strange lilt to it.
The man in green was talking to the Farmer and they were pointing over at me, saying something that sounded like 'the eaglet is doing well, it won't be long now.' What on earth were they saying, what was an eaglet anyway and why were they looking at me?
As the days followed the urge to fly got stronger and stronger, I could hardly contain myself. I thought about very little else. I began to get fed up with the same food everyday, the grain was now bland to my palette and I once hurt my sister as I pouched on her trying to fly and almost killed her. I was sent to solitary confinement in the chicken hut for a whole day. I spent my time exercising and spreading my wings and dreamed on. I never gave up believing in my dream, for I knew that I wasn't meant to be a chicken no matter what Mother Hen had said.
Finally it all got a bit too much and I did begin to doubt whether this was my lot in life, scratting around on the dirt for bits of corn meal, and watching others lay eggs. My sisters weren't any fun anymore for thafs all they seemed to do. Some others had gone out of the chicken run, they never returned, I don't know where they went.
It all seemed unfair and doom and gloom began to set it. I just had to keep a hold of my vision and my grandiose ideas of flying, I could feel myself soaring through the big blue yonder, swooping down and gliding in the warmth, feeling the wind under my wings. Wondering and wandering about what it was like up there in the vast sky, playing hide and seek in the clouds and getting a showered upon by the rain. I dreamt of nothing else at night and was becoming quite obsessed by it all that I almost could not see the reality of where I really was.
Then it happened. One sunny afternoon, the weather was warm, and there was a slight breeze, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, the birds were singing a lovely song, the cuckoo was calling, some said it was spring. The apple blossoms on the nearby trees were falling to the ground giving the green of the grass a transformation of glorious pink and white colour. There was the most wonderful smell of the spring flowers and freshness in the air.
The Farmer arrived with another man who was dressed in a dark green shirt and green trousers with heavy boots upon his feet. He reminded me of the Irishman who was at the farm a few weeks before. He worn huge gloves upon his hands and carried a black cloth bag. I heard them talking in the distance and I got the distinct impression they were talking about me, for the one in green was pointing in my direction. I moved a little closer and I just heard the man in green say something about the eaglet being full grown now and it was time. What did they mean, I wondered. Then they came into the pen, I saw they were coming towards me, I tried to run but the man in green caught me and put the black bag over me, They secured me in a cage, a smaller version of the chicken pen, I didn't think it could get any worse that that. I couldn't see, my heart was pounding from the sheer experience of this trauma and yet I felt a kind of peace that I couldn't explain and I sensed there was no need to be afraid.
I heard doors banging and a strange sound that seemed to roar, we seemed to be moving but the man in green was no longer carrying me. Occasionally there was a bump or I felt as if I was moving side to side and yet I was secure, it was the strangest feeling. Then suddenly the noises stopped and along with them this feeling of moving. I heard doors opening again. They came for me and I had a sense I was being carried again. The air was fresh and there was a breeze.
The cloth was removed and I looked around, I could hardly believe what I saw, there was no more chicken pen, in fact I witnessed a vast open space. On my right were the mountains and to the left were rocks of every size and shape. This was just like in my dream. A magnitude of green colours of every shade all around, clear blue skies, I was in awe. The man in green took an old tree and place my feet upon it branch. My strange toes just seemed to curl round it naturally and I hung on. Then the Man clapped his hand together and I heard his voice thunder out against the wind 'Spread your wings and fly away.'
The noise of the clap of his hands caused me to jump and I found myself launching of the branch into the air, instinct told me open my wings and I spread them out as far as I could. I looked back and could see the two men in the distance they appeared to have shrunk they were so tiny they were like ants. Realising I was flying I was amazed. Oh what a wondrous sight be seen. I could see the tiniest of creatures on the ground below it was as if I had been given a new gift of sight, I could see the mouse scurrying around in the grassy fields and couldn't help thinking they might taste nice. I saw things that I had never seen or dreamed of before, locked in that pen.
I soon forgot about the men, Mother Hen, the chicken pen, my siblings and I just soared and glided feeling the warmth of the breeze under my wings. I perched on rocks and launched off again, each one getting higher than the last. I was free at last. What an amazing wonderful experience.
You see I wasn't a chicken.
This story written by June Brown was inspired by a Prophetic word for her at a conference. June learned God hadn't called her to be a Chicken but an Eagle.
A Chicken scrats around looking for food on the ground and its focus is on looking down and being satisfied with its lot in a Chicken pen, trapped by its surroundings yet not being really that bothered about it. It says I'm a Chicken and I cant help it because that is what Chickens do. Chickens are very vulnerable to predators both man and beast.
The Eagle on the other hand is a magnificent bird, with mighty vision to see their prey, they see the tiniest of creatures on the ground, nothing can hide from them. Eagles are not trapped in their environment, they spread their wings and fly fast, and meticulous, they have strong legs and very sharp pointed beaks so that they can hold on to their struggling prey, devouring it, The Eagle build their nests or eyrie on very high ground away from predators, possibly high up on a rocky crag up to 610m (2,000ft) above sea-level. Not • much can match them, for they are vigilant, fast and dangerous.
Spiritually I want to be that Eagle don't you.
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