I put an ad on Tradio looking for giveaway chickens or roosters, and I was inundated with calls.
The inflated price of chicks competed with the inflated price of eggs this Spring, so instead of buying chicks, I waited. Perhaps someone would have extra chickens in the Fall.
They did. After our homeschool group on a Tuesday, I took my kids with me to a local farm where a very nice couple met us and allowed us to catch twenty of their chickens. We loaded them in our minivan and took them home.
I fed them for several days and received many more calls from people looking to give away their chickens. Twenty was plenty, however, and we butchered them this past week.
I made chicken broth, pulled chicken, chicken quarters, and chicken wings and froze them for later use throughout the year. The generosity of others will be rendering nutritional benefits for my family for quite some time, and I am very thankful.
When I read the news this week about the lapse in SNAP and EBT benefits, it was accompanied by all the political baggage that goes along with federal funds. I read many opinions and formed a few of my own.
However, a friend of mine saw it like a Tradio ad.
WANTED: Neighbors.
And she remembered the question the lawyer asked Jesus in order to justify himself: “And who is my neighbor?”
Jesus had just been talking about the Greatest Commandment: to love God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength and to love your neighbor as yourself. It had made the man wonder who was the neighbor he was commanded to love in such an extravagant fashion.
Instead of handing the man a pre-approved list, Jesus taught him how to be a neighbor by telling the story of the Good Samaritan.
It’s a story where we’ve all been the hurt man. We’ve all been the self-righteous priest. We’ve all been the fastidious Levite. We’ve hardly ever been as generous or extravagantly kind as the Samaritan.
Well, my friend heard the news about SNAP and EBT. She knew a neighbor was needed and that Jesus had commanded her to be a neighbor, and she brought large tubs of food to church to give out after the service to any of her neighbors who might be worried about feeding their families in the coming weeks.
No fanfare. No food bank. No lectures or shame. No grudge about also having to pay her taxes. No government dependence. She just loved extravagantly, like Jesus did.
It made me think of my neatly packaged chicken broth and the generosity of the neighbors, previously unknown to me, who had given it willingly, cheerfully, lovingly.
Should I hoard it? Or should I be a neighbor?
I know what Jesus would say.
I know what He would do.
“By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
*This article was written for the Oct. 30, 2025 version of the Devils Lake Journal.
Sarah Dixon Young 