The Mother Hen Syndrome

I looked up the word syndrome in the thesaurus and it doesn’t sound like a good thing to have, sort of like the flu. I beg to differ with the definition of malady. Rather, I think the word syndrome means a symptom or a defining characteristic. That description sounds much better to me.

However it is defined, I am convinced that I have the “mother hen syndrome”. It must be an inherited trait because every last one of my siblings is afflicted in the same way, as were our parents. It isn’t particularly comfortable and can lead to frustration, worry, and lines etched in faces, but I haven’t yet found a remedy.

If you live on a farm, or have done so in the past, and that farm had free-ranging chickens (that’s the only kind I’m acquainted with) you know that a hen is one of the best mothers in the world. She keeps her brood of babies with her, scratches up tasty worms and other crunchy or wiggly treats and calls her chicks to share in the feast. I’ve never seen a mother hen find a worm and gulp it down for herself, looking around furtively to be sure no one saw her. If a shadow of a hawk flits over the grass, she panics, but does she run? Indeed not. She calls urgently to her feathered offspring, spreads her wings, and shelters them from that menace in the sky. Same with a sudden thunderstorm. If the hen and her brood are too far from shelter, she squats on the ground, calls her little ones under her wings, and endures the onslaught of wind and rain, keeping the chicks safe and dry.

But then comes the day those baby chicks grow up and leave the nest and mama’s wings. They are so brave and venturesome, eager to be on their own and explore that huge, inviting world. And, that’s what they do. That’s where the difference comes in between chickens and people. The mother hen seems content to see them go. Sometimes human mothers and grandmothers are not. People with this mother hen syndrome remember all the pitfalls, dangers, traps, and wickedness and want to keep their families close and safe. Strangely, the recipients of all this care and concern do indeed consider it a malady and are prone to call it the “smother hen” syndrome.

Tonight, for instance, storms are forecast. They could be severe. I am hoping that all my family is safe within their own four walls (or in a safe room). If I were a hen, I’d spread my wings over them and gather them close. But, I’m not, so I just have to cover them with prayer and believe in One who can protect them a lot better than I can.