Tasting the Turkey

Hi Friends,

Here are some thoughts as we approach Thanksgiving. Will you taste the turkey this Thanksgiving?

Tasting the Turkey

"Yum!"  It was Thanksgiving day and I was in the kitchen, sneaking bits of turkey while no one was looking.  To my ten-year-old mind, nothing could compare to Mom’s perfectly cooked turkey.  I stuck my fingers into the warm juice and pulled off another piece.  "Ahhh," I sighed and smiled.  It was delicious.  I glanced around then snatched another bite.  

This is my favorite part of Thanksgiving, I thought, licking my fingers as the turkey juices dripped down my hand.  I loved to sample the little pieces of turkey that fell to the bottom of the pan during cooking.  It was like a special, tasty prize that made my mouth water just to think about it.  I jammed a fourth piece of turkey into my mouth and rubbed my belly, enjoying the dual pleasures of taste and smell.

At my Sunday School three days later, Pastor Ron visited our class.  He sat down on the stool in front and straightened his collar.  His eyes swept over the students. "Let me tell you a story," he began.  "There was a man named Joe.  Joe spent his life doing stuff that was very bad.  He drank.  He gambled.  He lived a wild life.  He swore all the time and never went to church.  When he ran out of money, he robbed a store and then continued his bad living.  On his death bed, Joe knew he was going to die, so he begged God for forgiveness and decided to trust in Jesus.  That night, Joe died and went to Heaven, the same as if he had loved and served God all his life.  What do you think of that?"

"Hey, that's not fair!," I burst forth.  My cheeks grew red with annoyance. 

"No, it's not fair," he agreed.  "Not fair to Joe.”

“To Joe?” I questioned.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean it's not fair because Joe missed the greatest joys in life."     

"But he was bad!” I exclaimed, sputtering in confusion.  “If he could get into heaven, why should I bother to do what I’m told?  I may as well go out and rob a store too!”

My Pastor smiled.  “Do you really think so?”

I lowered my head and stared at my feet.  Then, I shrugged my shoulders.

Pastor Ron cleared his throat.  

I looked up at him again.  His mouth was quirked in a strange half-grin.

"Tell me," he continued, "have you ever sneaked into the kitchen to taste a little bit of turkey before the Thanksgiving meal?"

I drew a quick breath and nodded my head.  My eyes grew wide in shock.  How had he known?  I remembered back to my time in the kitchen just three days before.  Yes, I knew very well what it was like to taste the turkey.  It was great!

"Well," he said, glancing at the rest of the class, "that's just what it's like for you and me.  All the time we spend serving God in this life is just like sneaking into the kitchen to taste the turkey.  We get a little taste of heaven before the great banquet.  Joe, on the other hand, doesn't get to taste the turkey in this life.  He has to wait.  Just think of all the fun he missed out on here in this life."

"Wow," I whispered, "I never thought of it like that.

Pastor Ron chuckled.  "Now, every time you sneak a bit of turkey, you can think about the fact that every day you spend serving God is a little taste of heaven here on earth."

To this day, I still sneak my little bit of turkey before the Thanksgiving meal, and every time I thank God for another day spent in His love, tasting the turkey of Heaven. 

Thanksgiving Rain

Hi Friends,

Got some rain yesterday and am thinking about Thanksgiving, rain, and new life. See what you think of this ...

Let it Rain!

 

            Dusty. Dry. Brown. Desolate. 

            I called my horses up from the pasture and watched the beige billows that formed behind them as they plodded up the hill toward the barn. The fire hazard level was red that day after another long, dry California summer. Fall had come, but the rains had not yet come with it. I threw another flake of hay into the horse feeder and trudged toward the pasture. 

            A few stalks of dried weeds poked from once-lush ground. Even they were withered. And the dust loomed like storm clouds stirred by the dragging of hooves. Dust. Lots and lots and lots of dust. It rose and swirled and settled in the cracks of my skin, on my hair, my clothes. It trickled onto the fence rails, the feeders, the trees. I tasted the grit in my mouth and blinked it from my eyes. 

            We needed rain. We seem to always need rain. And November is the month for it. Soon, the rains would come, and everything would change. So I waited. Day after day I brought the horses in from the pasture. Day after day I tasted dirt. One week. Two. Then came a sprinkle on my window. A pattering. And later water dropping in buckets-full from the sky. 

            In a week, another rainfall. A few days later, I again stood in the pasture. This time, there was no dust, no dry, no desolate brownness. Instead, fresh green grass made carpets beneath the trees. Clover sprang from the dirt, and bright yellow flowers dotted the landscape. The fences gleamed white, the trees draped with emerald leaves. I tasted the freshness on my lips and breathed deeply of vibrant scents of new life.

            Hooves raced toward the barn. I threw a few flakes of hay in the feeders. Then, I stood just where I had before. It was the same pasture, the same trees, the same view, the same land.  But everything had changed.  Life and green and growth permeated the once-desolate scene. 

            I watched the horses frolic toward their feeders. One galloped in a circle. Another kicked out with glee. A mare neighed. It sounded like a laugh. I laughed too. And thought about what a difference a little rain made. It changed the landscape. It changed hearts. 

            Thankfulness, I believe, is like the rain. It takes the same landscape and makes it beautiful, fills it with life. It brings joy where they was once only a dusty plodding. Gratefulness changes everything.

            1 Thessalonians 5:18 (NIV) tells us to “give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” In all circumstances, even the desolate ones, God calls us to gratefulness. We can’t wait for our pastures to turn to green for us to thank God. Rather, it is the gratitude itself that brings forth the life and joy as it rains on the barren places in our lives. 

             In Isaiah 51:3 (NIV), God promises, “The Lord will surely comfort Zion and will look with compassion on all her ruins; he will make her deserts like Eden, her wastelands like the garden of the Lord. Joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the sound of singing.” These were the promises to Israel - that her deserts would be filled with rain. They would be filled with thanksgiving. It is the same for us. In our wastelands, in our deserts, in the dry, dusty places of our lives, thanksgiving is the rain that brings joy and gladness. And we need not wait until November. Thanksgiving rain can come anytime we choose.

             So, when we taste the grit, when our souls are dry and barren, when dust billows to cover the blessings we wish we had, let it rain! Let thanksgiving pour down onto the dry ground so that life may bloom where there was once only dirt and dried up weeds.  Let it rain words of thanksgiving!