Estimated reading time: 2 minute(s)

Our oldest son was asked to take care of our friends’ animals while they are away visiting family for the Thanksgiving weekend. One of his plentiful duties is to collect the eggs laid by their hens at the end of every day. There are usually around eight to ten eggs per day, but tonight there were around a dozen. Nice job, chickens!

We brought them home and I didn’t really know what to do with them, so I washed them off. (I have since learned that this may not be the best idea… but we plan to use them soon, so it’ll probably be OK…)

As I was cleaning them, I noticed how vibrant the colors were. Not easter-egg vibrant, but just solid. And even a speckle or two of a darker shade of their natural color. There were three main hues: light blue, pink, and brown. It truly looked better than any Easter eggs I’ve ever colored!

And their shape. It was so perfectly round. Like they were somehow manufactured to exact specifications. And yet, there was a slight variation in each one. Distinct artistry. Not a shortcoming of any kind. Beautifully unique, while being perfectly uniform.

Then I remembered that these were fashioned inside a living creature. They weren’t pressed from a mold in a machine, then wrapped in a perfect packaging and placed on a pristine, immaculate store shelf. It was birthed. It was the natural product of a natural process.

And I was filled with wonder for the Creator of that process.

So many times we miss the incredible reality that is around us. The chickens are fed and cared for, and as their bodies process the food they take in, a natural outcome is this perfectly formed, beautifully colored and designed egg … that I eat for my breakfast. Or use to bake a couple dozen cookies or a deliciously moist cake.

Somehow, sometimes, the simplest things are so incredibly, jaw-droppingly astonishing to me. The creativity and genius of our Creator just blows me away.

Eggs aren’t much in the grand scheme. Nor are chickens, I guess. You and I are worth much more than sparrows (and probably chickens, too…) and every little part of God’s creation reminds us of that. His provision for us is not something that he does because he has to, or grudgingly, but with great pleasure.

Including ours.