Hand turkeys.
While being on the race the Lord has shown me some of my gifts. One of my gifts of grace (check Romans if ya wanna know more) is the gift of hospitality. I think my roots have a part to playin this also. Never, did I want to feed more into the southern stereotype that my squadmates had for the girl from the farm in Tennessee. With that being said, I have planned birthdays, Halloween parties and now a thanksgiving.
It is currently thanksgiving and I am sitting in my little bottom bunk writing before I finish last-minute table decorations.
I wanted to write about hand turkeys.
This morning we gathered like usual in our common room and had our bland but tasty oatmeal. Except, this morning we decided to have a little fun. I announced we would be doing hand turkeys. I know, I know. I sound like I’m 7 and about to crack open another juice box with my sisters at the playground… BUT, Y’ALL…. HEAR ME OUT. As each person was coloring and placing their hand turkeys on the wall I was flooded with memories of my childhood and the warmth of the bright colors of elementary classrooms. I overheard someone say “If you were to just look at the wall, you’d except us to be first graders.”
It’s true. The wall was covered with bright fall colors and lists of what made each of us thankful. Yet, that’s when I had a lil God moment.
Isn’t. It funny that we have to be taken back to old ways and ways of our childhood to truly be reminded of how truly thankful we are. Yeah, I’m not getting to see my family this year or laugh at the same jokes I hear every year. I won’t get to hug my grandmother and mom and share how truly thankful I am for them. I won’t get to smell the turkey, pumpkin, or red wine. No, instead I’m sweating. My feet are dirty, and I hope that my hair will be clean by tonight. Yet, I am so thankful.
It took me writing out on a stinking hand turkey to realize how thankful I am for all of this. That I’m here. Africa. Next will be Nepal. I’ve built relationships with so many people here in this tiny village and the thought of leaving makes me weak in my knees and teary-eyed. God, I’m so thankful. I’m thankful for the little things, the big things, and all the things in the middle. Yet, I have been asking myself these past few hours “why am I not like this all the time?”
THEN GOD HIT ME WITH SOME TRUTH……
If it takes a hand turkey for me to be thankful and to truly see all the things he’s done… Then, I need to get good at drawing turkeys. Childlike faith… hmmmm, maybe there’s a reason why people always reference it. I want to see the good; all the time. I want to see God’s faithfulness every single moment of the day. In reality, God has never let me down. Woah. That’s hard for me to write and hard for me to say. I try to convince myself that God hasn’t been with me during the pain that has occurred in my story. How could a loving God let that happen to his child Yet, I know that it wasn’t him… (a lot of it, well, all of it falls on that whole free will thing,) yet, I know that God was working throughout the painful and the weeping. He was faithful and bringing light out of every messy and chaotic situation. HOW FREAKING GOOD IS THAT????
So, heck yeah I’m gonna be thankful. I’m gonna strive for a hand turkey point of view perspective in all of my days. Not just on the race, but after. I want to constantly be in a state of utter gratitude and thanks for how God is faithful and using all things.
So, I challenge you. Next time you find yourself having that pity party for one with sour milk and bad elevator music playing in the background…. Draw a hand turkey. Write out all the little things. Write out the big things. Write out the hard stuff that sucked in the moment, but you know that God used it. I promise if you do this, you’ll start to see that we’ve got a lot to be thankful for. Way more than the five fingers that are used on a hand turkey.
I love you.
I hope all is well at home. Please, write me!!! (virtually that is.) I want to know how I can be praying for you.
Nehemiah 8:10, Isaiah 42, Romans 12:3-8, Matthew 6:25-34.
