It’s Thanksgiving Day for those in the USA. We have lived outside the States in Africa for so long that a traditional Thanksgiving gathering seems like a memory from another lifetime.
But I do remember.
I remember when I was a child, my mother fussing over the impossibly large turkey she bought and painstakingly stuffed. Mom could cook a turkey; I don’t think anyone else’s could be better. Whenever I’ve tried to cook turkey for our family, I’ve done my best to follow her instructions. I believe that, for the most part (spoiler alert for a story below), the turkeys I’ve prepared have come close to tasting like hers.
I remember
In 2019, our middle daughter and her husband, Mandy and Derek, came to Burundi to work with us for a short time. All three of our older children had already left the nest by then, but Mandy and Derek came to serve with us, and that brief season felt like a little bit of heaven. So when Thanksgiving came around, I had the bright idea to cook a full Thanksgiving dinner with all the fixings, including turkey…
Like in many parts of Africa, turkey isn’t widely available. When I’ve found them, they’ve been shipped in by well-meaning individuals. Years ago, in Zaire (now the DRC), turkeys were flown in by MAF (Mission Aviation Fellowship, a ministry that transports goods and medical equipment all for the sake of the Gospel to hard-to-reach areas). They were flying into the interior of the country and stopped by on their way to deliver turkeys that our senior missionaries had ordered for the team. Having a turkey dinner that year was surreal.
I had wonderful memories of the fabulous turkey dinner all those years ago. I wanted to duplicate, to the best of my ability, the experience for Mandy and Derek while they were in Burundi. My first challenge was to find a turkey. That was definitely easier said than done.
Find one I did. Through a series of events, an (old) turkey was found, purchased, slaughtered, stuffed, and thrown into the oven. It wasn’t a large turkey like my mother’s turkey monstrosities were in my childhood. But it would feed the five of us plus a few guests.
Suspicious
I was a bit suspicious of the bird when stuffing it. It was bony, stiff, and hard to put into the oven. The legs stood straight up like rods, scraping the inside of the oven. But I knew that once it was cooked, the legs would loosen, at least that had been my experience when cooking turkeys.
The side dishes were no problem. I knew how to make green bean casserole, macaroni salad, dinner rolls, mashed potatoes, and more. It took a few days to get it all ready. I was so excited! We had family with us!
The aroma of the turkey didn’t disappoint me, unlike its legs when I put it in the oven. I started to hope things were looking up until I checked on how things were progressing in the oven. The turkey’s legs were still as stiff as they were when I first put them in.
I decided to wait longer.
And longer.
Every time I checked, there was no change except that the turkey was getting browner by the minute. Still, the legs refused to move. Hoping against hope, I maneuvered the bird and the pan out of the oven.
Time to carve and a broken knife
I had saved my mother’s carving knife from Finland, called a “Puukko.” It would surely be victorious over the bird and its stiff legs. Of course, I failed, and I called Derek over to carve the bird. He strained and managed to cut off a few slices of meat before breaking the knife inside the carcass.
Before I finish this post, I hope to find the picture of the said turkey to prove it’s a true story. However, I’m failing to find one as of yet – I’m hoping!
Resigned to a turkey-free dinner, we enjoyed the sides and laughed until we cried about the toughest Thanksgiving turkey in history.
So today, we’re not having turkey. I haven’t tried to make one since then! But all is not lost. While we’re not enjoying turkey, stuffing, gravy, and all the fixings, we will put up the Christmas tree, which has always been our tradition to do on Thanksgiving Day or the day after.
There will be tears when I remember
We are now left with one of the kids at home; the rest are celebrating with grandparents and extended family in Florida. We will call them and smile. But when we hang up, there will be tears.
I remember.
I remember when they were all young at home, and I would lay out Thanksgiving dinners no matter where we were in the world. Usually, we had to substitute turkey with chicken, but it didn’t matter. We were together, and it was sweet.
The call of God is a serious matter. It’s not something you can do halfway; you either answer or do not.
We decided to answer, and it has been sweet.
And it has been hard.
When I sit at the dining room table, I can picture where everyone used to sit, and I can hear them arguing. If I close my eyes, I can see it.
I remember.
And despite it being hard, I can smile even when tears find their way down my face.
Answering every morning
While our journey has had its fair share of challenges, I think the hardest one to face is the separation we now experience from our grown children and grandchildren. Somehow, leaving our parents behind felt natural, but leaving our children behind for the call of God is an entirely different story.
So I choose to answer the call every morning. Some mornings, saying yes is easier than others.
Today, not so much. I’ve had to choose to follow when my feelings don’t agree. My feelings are in protest.
But I know all too well that feelings betray us, and God never does. What He does for us, and what He asks from us, always leads us to what is best. The process of getting to the best does not always feel that way, but do not let your feelings betray you.
God loves us, He wants what is best for us, and He is the best.
And, He is worthy of all sacrifices we may make for Him. There’s no one else, nothing else, that is worthy of leaving family. And He understands because Jesus left His Father to come to us.
That makes it all worth it. He is worth it.
At the beginning of this year, the Lord gave me a song that has been the song for this year, Worthy of It All, which speaks what I’m trying to say in this jumble of words.
He is worthy. Worthy of it all.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
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Update: I never found the picture of the broken knife…in case you were wondering 😅.
