Me, Moxie, and Jesus (to the rescue)

Moxie visiting with Miss Congeniality..

     Yesterday upon returning from grocery shopping in town, I stopped at the end of the driveway to get the mail.  I was surprised - no, astounded - no, mortified -  to see that Pretty Face, our Mamma hen, was outside her little broody coop.  She had somehow burrowed under the "courtyard" fencing, and was frantically trying to figure out how to get back to her chicks... She was clucking in a distressful way, and the peeps were peeping loudly.
     Meanwhile, having heard the sound of my Jeep, down the winding driveway comes Moxie the Wonder Dog.  We have been showing Moxie all the chickens, including the babies, every day, and explaining to her that she is their guardian... giving her instructions not to hurt them, not to bite at them, not to pick them up, etc. She is a very good dog, and she really likes the chickens. Even when they peck her nose, she just keeps on wagging that ol' tailbone!  We had, just that morning, put Moxie into one of the chicken coops with the chickens... (She was much more scared  than the chickens were.) She, of course, proved harmless to the chickens. She often sticks her head into the coops when I am collecting eggs and petting the chickens.
     Nevertheless, my heart went pitter-patter at the sight of Moxie bounding down the driveway, with me trying to soothe Pretty Face enough to pick her up and return her to her babies.   ( Oh, my, what if ??? )
My fears were completely ungrounded.  When Moxie got near me, she saw Pretty Face and knew that things weren't quite right.  She went around the pen and herded Pretty Face towards me.  Pretty Face puffed up (a  fear/protective action much like a cat puffing up for a fight), but easily allowed me to pick her up and put her back in the broody coop.  Her babies ran to her, and she covered them and comforted them. I was amazed at the string of events.  It was as if  Moxie and I were meant to rescue Pretty Face - all for the sake of the baby chicks.
     A couple thousand years ago, Jesus, up high on one of the mountains surrounding Jerusalem, looked down on His beloved city and wept.  He cried out, "Oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem... How often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a mother hen gathers her chickens under her wings, and you would not!."  When you look up the word "wept" or "cried" in the Aramaic or Greek translations, it translates "wailed".  Jesus didn't just shed a quiet tear over His people; He wailed loudly.  Love is like that. Protective. Comforting. Of us. His baby chicks.
                                   Shalom, Y'all - Twyla