Chicken Money


About two weeks ago I was thinking about buying more meat chickens.  I didn’t do so well the first time I raised them, so I was really wanting to try again.  I wanted to do better this time. I wanted to prove to myself that I could be a real farmer.  A real farmer ought to be able to raise meat chickens.  I real farmer should be able to raise just about anything successfully.  I want to be a real farmer.  There was a problem, though.

The problem was, I wanted to raise 40 birds this time.  I only had enough extra money to buy maybe thirty birds.  I decided to talk to The Pastor about it.  I argued my case.  I told him all about how I needed more chicken money.  I thought that about twenty dollars would do it.

“I don’t know, Honey.” The Pastor said “I guess you’re going to have to ask God for some more chicken money.”

This was not the answer I was looking for.

The answer I was looking for was something more like “Here, Honey, here’s a few hundred dollars.  Go buy all of the chickens you want, and maybe a new goat while you’re at it.”

That was not what he said, though.  He wasn’t going to give me any chicken money.  This maybe made me a little bit angry.

I’ll show him I thought.  God will too give me chicken money.  Then he’ll see. 

I then didn’t tell anyone else that I needed chicken money.  I just waited.

I waited for a week.

Then, one night, a friend came to our house.  He sat on the porch and hung out with The Pastor for a while.  You remember The Pastor, the one who didn’t want me to have any more chickens?  The one who didn’t want me to be a real farmer?  About an hour later, The Pastor walked into the house rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

“Here.” he said thrusting his hand out to me.  “He said to give you this.  He said it was for buying more chickens.  How do you always get exactly what you want?”

He handed me a twenty dollar bill.  Chicken money.

Oh, but the story doesn’t end there.

Yesterday I went to go order my new chickens.

I had just enough chicken money to order the forty chickens that I wanted.  I was pretty happy.  The Pastor and I were on a date and the first stop was to order my forty chickens.  Really, what more could I ask for?

I’m glad you asked that question.

Just as we were walking into the store, I thought I know what I really need.  What I really need is fifty chickens.  Forty chickens would still be playing at this whole farming thing, but if I had fifty chickens, that would really mean I was serious.

One problem.  I only had enough chicken money for forty chickens.  As we got to the counter to place my chicken order, I started to study the order sheet.  I studied it for a very long time, trying to figure out how to present my case.

“You know,” I said to The Pastor “If I had just thirteen more dollars in my chicken money, I could order fifty chickens instead of forty!  Wouldn’t that be exciting?!”

“Not really.” said The Pastor “You came here to order forty chickens.  What would you do with fifty chickens anyway?”

I stared at him for a moment because I didn’t really understand what he was asking.

“You know,” I tried again “thirteen dollars really isn’t a lot of money for ten whole more chickens.  You might want to think about investing.”

The Pastor sighed.  “If you want ten more chickens, you are just going to have to go ask God for the thirteen dollars.  See if He wants you to have fifty chickens.  Where are you even planning on putting all of those birds?”

I stared at him again.  It was like there were words coming out of his mouth, but none of them were making any sense.

Then I ordered my forty chickens and pouted a little.  I wanted fifty chickens.  I was going to get fifty chickens.  I just had to figure out how God and I were going to do it.

I stewed about it all the way to the next store.  Silently, in my head, I was explaining to God about how a real farmer would get fifty chickens.  Forty chickens meant that I was just an amateur, but fifty chickens, fifty chickens would be bordering on professional.  I thought I was ready for the big time.

We arrived at the next store and I followed The Pastor through the door.  Just as we approached the first isle, I suddenly had a whisper of a thought.  There’s your chicken money!  Right over there! the thought said.

I looked.

On the floor I saw a crumpled up piece of scrap paper, folded very small.  I picked it up and unfolded it.

It was a twenty dollar bill.

I grinned.

Then I skipped over and showed it to The Pastor.

“Where did you get that?” he asked.

“It’s chicken money.  I found it on the floor!” I explained  “I think it’s from God.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!  We literally JUST left the chicken store!  You JUST asked God for that money like twenty minutes ago!”

“Um, yes.”  I said a little confused.  Why was he being so loud?

The Pastor gave a slow deep sigh.  He shook his head.

“You know what I want you to do?” he asked

I did not know what he wanted me to do.

“I want you to go stand over there.  I want you to stand there and stop thinking small and ask God for a house payment!!!”

I don’t think he understands how chicken money works.


A house payment worth of money would buy an awful lot of chickens…

Then I would really really be a real farmer!


3 thoughts on “Chicken Money

  1. Pingback: Success! – The Pastor's Snarky Wife

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