No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace… Hebrews 12:11

Let’s talk turkey. Did you ever wonder how it became the official holiday bird? After all, Benjamin Franklin once nominated the turkey as our national emblem instead of the eagle. I suspect he lost because someone observed that even a large eagle would never feed twenty people, then provide three months of soup, sandwiches and casseroles. And can you imagine a turkey atop the flag pole?

Consequently, ninety-five percent of the nation participates in the annual turkey trot, intently circling a frozen meat case containing what resembles beige boulders with handlebars. The turkey veterans are easily identified by gloved hands, while novices blow on bare, frost bitten fingers. If you are the latter, here’s some advice. When you spot the perfect bird, never make eye contact lest someone jump your claim. Then, once staked, have the butcher maneuver it into your shopping cart. This requires a small crane and you don’t want to drop one of those gobblers on your foot. Trust me, I know.

At home you’ll need manpower or a good wheelbarrow in transferring from car to kitchen. Only then will you discover that no way is Tom Troublemaker going to fit into your freezer. You might consider leaving him on the counter, except the directions warn that thawing must take place in the refrigerator. In which case, plan on turkey for Easter.

Face it. Turkeys are a pain in the gizzard. Yet, finally thawed, I always experience a moment of pre-stuffing reverence viewing that naked, goose-bumply bird. Soon he’ll emerge from the oven transformed – the crispy, bronze focal point of another wonderful family celebration, all prior preparation shadowed in the glow of those loving faces.

Hebrews 12:11 indicates that every discipline of life seems, in the preparation stages, more painful than pleasant (my paraphrase). But in the end it produces an amazing “harvest of righteousness and peace.”

Whether it’s the holidays, or some random Tuesday, that’s something it might pay to remember the next time you wrestle a turkey.

Turning Over a New Leaf

I can still remember the first turkey I ever cooked. It was frightening. Will I get it done in time? I worried. Will it taste good? Since then I’ve learned that the turkeys in life take many different forms. Frankly, many things that seemed like a good idea at the time turn out to be more trouble than we ever anticipated. Few things, in fact are ever as easy as they seem.

But I’ve learned a couple of others things, too. First, the really good things in life are worth the extra time and trouble. Secondly, something good can come out of even the worst situation. With God’s help, our troubles really can be transformed into triumph.

Remember, too, that trials are not just for our own faith-building experience. Besides strengthening our own sense of accomplishment, they very often result in something that will feed the faith of others. Bottom line: There’s always something to be thankful for.

Lord, so many things in life become more of a challenge than we ever anticipated. Use these times to teach us patience and discipline that the end result might be a true harvest of righteousness in our lives. Amen.

Judi Braddy is a writer, motivational speaker, licensed minister, pastor’s wife, mom and grandma. A regular columnist for Woman’s Touch Magazine and the author of three books: Prodigal in the Parsonage; It All Comes Out in the Wash; and Simple Seasons (from which this article was adapted), Judi has lived through scads of seasons and turned over a number of new leaves. She and her husband, Jim, live in Elk Grove, California. Visit Judi’s website at www.judibraddy.com.  Used with Permission