There is one picture that sort of defines my Thanksgivings growing up, and it’s this one. Here is my family, sitting at the table full of good stuff, ready to eat.
(Okay, full disclosure. When we finally found this picture, I realized it was from Christmas. But most holidays in my early childhood looked like this.)
When I see this picture, I can't help but think about the people in it. First, there’s my dad. He had probably spent the morning in his recliner – only moving when Mom asked him to do something, but mostly waiting for the Cowboys to kick off their game around noon. He was and still is a die-hard Dallas Cowboys fan.
Then there’s my mom. My mom was an amazing cook. She probably cooked most of what you see there. The thing I most remember about Mom and Thanksgiving was that she always stressed out over the turkey and dressing. The turkey I can totally understand. Cooking turkeys in the oven is walking a very thin tight rope of over cooking it and under cooking. But she would spend hours upon hours making her dressing! When I finally asked her for her reicpe and started making it myself, I thought, “What is the big deal?” I found it to be very easy! I liked making it! And believe it or not, mine tasted exactly like hers!
Next you see my maternal grandmother. Granny had to move in with us when I was in the fifth grade because of her health. Those years she lived with us were times I will never forget. She taught me a lot. She was hilarious and funny, even though she had lived a very hard life. I was the only grandchild, so I was the “golden child,” as my mom called me. One Thanksgiving break when I was in high school, I got sick and wound up being in bed most of the week. In fact, I missed Thanksgiving with the friends we celebrated with after my parents' divorce. Earlier in the week, Mom had gone to get Granny to take her to Walmart. Mom told her how sick I was, and she said, “I have to buy that baby a present.” My mom was of course shocked because first, Granny did not just buy people gifts for no reason. Second, Granny was very miserly with her money, so she just didn’t throw her money around like that. So that day, she picked me out my very first pair of Christmas pajamas. I still wear them every Christmas Eve to this day.
Finally, in this picture, you see Margaret Greer. We never called her Margaret. She was Sissie. She lived on our property, which had formerly belonged to her brother, and over the years, she became our family. She spent every holiday with us. She was my main babysitter. After my grandmother moved in with us, she became my grandmother’s babysitter, even though she was 10 years older than her! Sissie would tell you should could not cook, but she made the best pies around. Her pecan and chocolate pie recipes unfortunately died with her, so I cannot recreate them. Sissie was a true gem. She had such a servant’s heart. She gave and gave though she had very little. When she passed away, she was buried in our family plot.
My memories of Thanksgivings past are few, but with this picture, they do come back. The food was always amazing. We always ate too much. We probably had the Cowboys game on while we were eating because there was a TV in the kitchen that you can’t see in this picture. I do remember us being together and happy. When lunch was over, we just threw a bed sheet over the table and ate it all again for supper. I never minded that! Thanksgiving leftovers are my favorite!
Why do I tell you all of this? Because it was through these people that I met Jesus. My mother and my grandmother unashamedly talked to be about Jesus and made sure I was in church every Sunday. Sissie was also very faithful to the church and loved to serve, as I said. We were not the perfect family by any means. When I knelt in the living room of that house at 13 years old, and accepted Jesus as my Savior and asked Him to take away my sins, my life was never the same. Never. I gained a faith that I have clung to for 30 years now – all because of the people in this picture.
Now, as I have a family of my own and we celebrate Thanksgivings together, I want to let them know of God’s faithfulness throughout the generations of my family. I want them to know where my faith came from. I want them to know who influenced me for Christ. I don’t want them to ever, ever forget that theirs is a faith that can be trusted in the hard times!
Why do I tell you all of this? Because the story does not need to die with you. The heading for Psalm 78 in my Bible says “Lessons from Israel’s Past.” The first 8 verses read:
My people, hear my instruction;
listen to the words from my mouth.
I will declare wise sayings;
I will speak mysteries from the past—
things we have heard and known
and that our fathers have passed down to us.
We will not hide them from their children,
but will tell a future generation
the praiseworthy acts of the Lord,
his might, and the wondrous works
he has performed.
He established a testimony in Jacob
and set up a law in Israel,
which he commanded our fathers
to teach to their children
so that a future generation—
children yet to be born—might know.
They were to rise and tell their children
so that they might put their confidence in God
and not forget God’s works,
but keep his commands.
Then they would not be like their fathers,
a stubborn and rebellious generation,
a generation whose heart was not loyal
and whose spirit was not faithful to God.
Don’t let the stories die with you. Don’t let those recipes go the grave without anybody knowing how to make them. Tell the younger generations of your faith and how you came to know Christ. Bore them to tears with stories from your youth – both the good and the bad. Let them know what stock they came from. You don’t want them to end up a stubborn and rebellious generation, as Psalm 78 says. I’m afraid we have too much of that already. Those seeds you plant, those prayers you pray for your family do not go unheard by your Heavenly Father. I am living proof of that. Make sure you tell the stories and then pray the prayers over your children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. God will be faithful to answer them.
Comments
Post a Comment