Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
In our rural neighborhood, several backyards boast chickens. During my morning walk, I hear different rooster calls ringing through trees and down private lanes.
I know what they are saying because my father told me when I was a child. Each morning, the roosters from ranches near ours would begin the day with, “Lock the barn door.” The second rooster ordered, “Give me the key!”
Dad may have been telling me childhood tales, but he was right about the back and forth part, somewhat like the Responsive Reading from our Baptist hymnal that was recited once each month.
But today, I am sad to say that our own little flock has dwindled—four hens turned out to be roosters. Of course Rojo the King would not cut them any slack, so we gave three away, and one flew the coop on its own.
Anyone with chickens knows that roosters don’t crow only in the morning. I think Rojo crows every time one of his girls lays an egg. But for whatever reason, he will often crow throughout the day.
One afternoon while I was out watering my hanging plants, the crowing caught my attention. It was a definite call-and-answer routine between Rojo and the nearest neighbor’s rooster.
However, both roosters were “saying” the same thing. First one and then the other, in the same rhythmic pattern and at the same pitch. Crowing in stereo.
These boys have been neighbors for so long and have had so many over-the-fence conversations that they are beginning to sound the same.
People do that too. We start to sound like what we spend a lot of time with or listen to.
Have you ever heard, “You are what you eat”?
I believe we are also what we listen to, hang out with, and read. If we spend enough time with something or someone, it’s likely that we’ll end up the same.
Are those things and people true, good, and wholesome? Do they uplift and encourage?
We mimic by nature. That is why it’s so important to be careful about what we feed on and what we let our children feed on.
What’s crowing in your backyard?
Bad company corrupts good character.
1 Corinthians 15:33
Walk with the wise and become wise;
associate with fools and get in trouble.
Proverbs 13:20
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You are what you eat, listen to, hang out with ... Share on X
Bern held his plate out to Etta. “Last night you mentioned my preaching and where I learned it.”
She cut him a slice of pie, then set the pan in the picnic basket, rested her hands in her lap, and fixed her attention on the mountains.
Did she know it was easier for him when she wasn’t looking into his soul?
“As I mentioned once, my pa was a preacher. All my growing-up years, I heard what he said about the Good Book and watched how he lived what he believed. His brother was the sheriff, and when I wasn’t with my pa, I was with Uncle Chess.”
Bern’s throat started to swell, and he reached for the jar of water, offering it first to Etta. She declined, and he took a swig, trying to untangle the knotted memories that were getting in the way of his words.
“Uncle Chess got crossways with a fella who had skipped out on his debts and hurt a lot of people in town. He served time in prison for it, but swore he’d get even. A couple years later he returned and shot my uncle in the back. Since I was blood kin and happened to be standing right there, he took aim on me as well.”
Etta’s hands flew to her mouth and her rosy color drained. “Were you hurt?”
He shook his head. “Another shooter dropped him in his tracks as he cocked his gun.”
“Who?”
Bern hadn’t told many folks about his family, especially not in Lockton. “The preacher.”
She reached for his arm. “Your father.”
Bern frowned, then covered her hand so she’d know she wasn’t what pained him. “Their roles always seemed to cross over, Uncle Chess quoting Scripture and Pa wearing a sidearm under his Bible-totin’ hand.”
He looked at her then, moved by the storm in her eyes. “I’d be dead if Pa hadn’t worn a gun.” ~Mail-Order Misfire
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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