Grace Lessons (aka learning what I already know)

The pigs press in hard against the feeder. 

It's time for their daily ration of manna.

I watch as they squeal, desperately nosing up to the river of grain tumbling into the stainless steel feeder. Twenty five of them push and shove with all the gusto their 40 pound bodies can muster, clamouring for more - always clamouring.  One climbs up on the back of another and staggers clear over the writhing pack and drops his body into the group of frenzied weanlings at the trough, all feverish and determined to keep their places .

Grace has no place here.

I stand there, shaking my head.  I know something they don't.

While they are bellowing and fighting for each crumble of grace-sustenance, not knowing when it will stop, I do know. Eight tonne.  That's how much feed there is available to them.  Enough to fill their feeder a hundred times over.  Much more than enough to satisfy.

And yet they fight. And screech. And holler. And walk on others, scratching their way to the front, all bellowing in ear-piercing protest.  Manners have no place here, either.

Really, what can you expect, right?  They're pigs.  They didn't get their reputation for being "pigs" for nothing.

I watch them, vaguely amused, stopped in my tracks by what I've seen a hundred times, and yet today seeing it as for the first. 

One barrow, particularly passionate in his effort to get to the feeder, catches my attention. I see his body, tense and frenzied, thrashing about in his struggle. I whisper it, aloud, though who's listening - "Hey, honey, relax - there's enough for all of you."

There's enough for all of you.

I stop, hold my breath, strangely aware that the words whispered were maybe meant for me.  Could it be?

Could it be that there is enough goodness, blessing, in this world for all of us, enough to fill all our outstretched hands, food aplenty for each and every hungry heart?

Could it be that if good fortune finds a neighbour, that I could rejoice with them, knowing that they haven't stolen anything from me?  Could it be that gifts, blessings, good fortune are not merely poured out at random over humanity, leaving us to claw our way to acquire as much as we can, but that we are each given our own cup, carefully measured with what we need by One who knows best? Could I have the courage to smile bravely when someone else wins and it feels like my loss?  Could I rest, smile knowingly, because I haven't been forgotten? Could I give today's ration away, believing that when my need arises, my cupped hands will be filled?  Can I be wholely satisfied with the measure in my cup?

The feeder is full.  I switch off the feedline and turn off the lights. I close the door to the barn, thoughts and soul churning.

A David Psalm (The Message translation)

 ^1-3 God, my shepherd! I don't need a thing.
   You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
      you find me quiet pools to drink from.
   True to your word,
      you let me catch my breath
      and send me in the right direction.

 ⁴ Even when the way goes through
      Death Valley,
   I'm not afraid
      when you walk at my side.
   Your trusty shepherd's crook
      makes me feel secure.

 ⁵ You serve me a six-course dinner
      right in front of my enemies.
   You revive my drooping head;
      my cup brims with blessing.

 ⁶ Your beauty and love chase after me
      every day of my life.
   I'm back home in the house of God
      for the rest of my life.