Peggy Cunningham is a missionary in the Andes Mountains of Bolivia. Trek with her through the mountains and valleys of life and climb new heights of faith to reach a purposeful life. Join the quest of an ordinary woman who desires to accomplish extraordinary things for God. "But I have raised you up for this very purpose, that I might show you my power and that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth." Exodus 9:16
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Two Tough Turkeys
The turkey tales I have to tell don't resemble the beautiful turkey in this picture, but they do hold a special spot in my heart. The first, because it was the first turkey I ever cooked––two months after my wedding day. The second, because it was my son's turkey––placed in my freezer without my knowledge. I have many precious memories to be thankful for on this Thanksgiving Day. Psalm 107:1(NIV) "Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever." As the years pass, I realize that it is a blessing to be able to remember.
After many years of eating turkey, I suddenly developed an allergy to the bird. I don't look forward to turkey on Thanksgiving now––unless I want to look like Frankenstein or meet the Lord face to face. After two reactions, it was certain I had an allergy to turkey. Then, my third encounter with a turkey was an accident. I forgot that the gravy was turkey gravy, but after that reaction I will never forget again. It took the doctors four days to get my hives under control.
But, I've had other encounters with turkeys. I also have experience cooking turkeys. As a new bride, I looked forward to cooking my first Thanksgiving dinner. Far away from our home town, we celebrated alone. My husband was in the Air Force, and we lived in Las Vegas, Nevada. Now you may think that was glamorous, but it wasn't. We lived on an airman's salary and buying a turkey was a big expense for the special day. We got up early, and together we made the stuffing, packed it in the bird and shoved it in the oven. After a few hours, we checked the bird. We thought it strange that there was no wonderful aroma coming from the oven, and looking at it––well, it was still raw. Huh, two hours more should do it––we reasoned. We closed the oven door and waited.
The table looked lovely with my wedding gifts of silver, crystal, and candle sticks placed on the perfectly pressed tablecloth. The potatoes were cooking, and the red cranberry sauce contrasted the green linen tablecloth––my decorating skills were developing. If only that turkey would cooperate. It didn't. After nine hours in the oven, it was tough and still not cooked. We were so disgusted that we took that bird for a long drive in the Nevada desert and threw it out of the convertible we were driving. Good riddens! Did we ever know what happened? Never! But, I can tell you that story has been told over and over and usually it sounds as though the cook messed up. I will never agree––it must have been the oven! My first turkey--tough and uncooked! And it's still haunting me today––every time the story is told.
The second turkey tale involves our son. We were new missionaries on the field and had just purchased a freezer, a big deal in those days--30 years ago. We had chickens in the freezer, and at this point in my life I had learned to cook. But, cooking in Bolivia is different. Because of the altitude, everything takes longer to cook. I took the bird out of the freezer, thawed it and put it in a pot to boil. I checked that bird every hour, and every hour it seemed less cooked. Memories of that first turkey were still haunting me. I wondered what this bird had against me. After six hours in the pot––you guessed it––it met its fate in the mountains of Bolivia. But, this story has an ending that was resolved.
Our son had gone hunting and killed a wild turkey. Wild Bolivian turkeys are the same size as chickens. He never told me the turkey was in our freezer. And, I didn't know it was a wild turkey or the secrets of cooking this exotic Bolivian bird. But, I did find out why that so called chicken never cooked––because it wasn't a chicken at all. Unlike the Nevada turkey––I do have an excuse for the Bolivian turkey.
I hope your turkey isn't a repeat of my turkey stories this Thanksgiving. It wasn't funny at the time, but they are good, funny memories now. We have so much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving Day. Good and funny memories are a blessing to be thankful for too.
Happy Thanksgiving! Hope you make some good memories on this special day––even funny ones.
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