Fresh Eggs

About a month ago we started ordering fresh free range eggs from a local farm. Well, actually we order them from The Pub at Sir Toby’s Hostel and they order them fresh from a farm. Anyway, I have loved getting these eggs. I even love that when I get them they are usually really dirty. When I first get them I usually spend a good amount of time washing them – not with soap or anything, but I gently rub them with my fingers while running hot water over them. I’m not sure if this is something I really should or shouldn’t do, but I just don’t like the idea of putting them in my fridge that dirty. And each time that I’ve washed the eggs it feels somehow like a very sacred act.

There has been something very beautiful to me about gently rubbing the dirt away from these fragile little eggs. As I thought about this very basic and common activity today, I prayed this prayer:

Lord, there is so much in my life that feels fragile right now. There are so many dreams and desires and abilities that feel like fragile little eggs. There is so much potential there for life and for nourishment, but there is also dirt. There is much that is hidden in the bushes, covered by dirt. And there is much that is covered with the dirt of my own selfishness. Lord, would you reach down and find the hidden dreams, desires and abilities that need to flourish and clean them off? Would you find the eggs in my life that need to be nurtured so that they can grow to maturity, and the ones that need to be killed so that they can nourish other activities? I need your gentle hands, Lord. I need your help. Much in me feels fragile and easily broken. Be gentle, be kind. Wash me clean. Amen.