Thank God -- for this?

“Thank You, God — for this?”

by Karen Travis

I sat wide-eyed staring at the large bowl of sickly looking little yellowish-green grey balls of various sizes on the table in front of me. My stomach churned at the thought of this being my dinner.

My brother and I had laughed hilariously earlier in the day as we witnessed chickens stumbling about without their heads — before they finally succumbed to the inevitable. 

Then our task began. We plucked feathers until each hung naked with only bumpy chicken skin for clothing.

We laughed until we cried over all the silly musings that tumbled through our adolescent minds and into the air like the mangled clumps of feathers we plucked.  
It was such great fun.

But sitting now at the dinner table, my freckled face was no longer smiling.  My eyes were wide, my lips were pursed, my stomach churned, and my hope was that nothing remained in my stomach from the last time I ate that could come up now.  Not likely as it had been hours since I’d eaten and snacking between meals was never allowed to “ruin my appetite”.  But the contents of the bowl in front of me were ruining it now.

I had been oblivious to the part of the chicken butchering process that sat on the table that night.

The line of egg yokes in various stages of pre-shell development inside each hen had been carefully rescued by my mom and boiled. The result was to be my dinner.

Someday I would understand that the extra egg yokes were golden treasure to a family with little, but that day, they were not at all “golden” and all I could think and feel was my stomach churning over the reality that I would need to eat some of those sickly looking balls.

Both eating what was in front of me and finishing my plate were required at our house.
That second stipulation precluded my smearing those little balls to a thin layer on my plate and pretending I had eaten them.

Perhaps with some clever slight-of-hand I could transfer them into a napkin to dispose of later — except that there were no napkins — and the stash of tissues I normally carried in my pocket had been depleted by my allergy to feathers earlier in the day.

My mind was racing for another way out when five horrible words cut into my thoughts.

My dad was announcing "It's your turn to pray!"   I glanced away from the little balls just long enough to realize he was looking at me. Why did it have to be my turn? My mind went numb and I felt my eyes grow wider as the yellowish-green grey balls loomed larger.

Time froze as I searched for words. How could I say "Thank You, God" for this? My stomach churned again. I was the last to bow my head. I swallowed hard and eventually opened my mouth, just grateful it was words that came out.

I do not remember what happened after that, except that I must have eaten. I did live. And it was not the last time in my life I would stare numbly ahead wondering how I could ever say "Thank You, God" for what lay before me.

A heart-wrenching day came when what lay before me was my son. His last breath had escaped from his lips and the smell of death filled my senses as I held him in my arms for the last time.

Mind numb -- time froze once again.  My heart churned in darkness and unbelief.

Would I ever be able to say "Thank You, God" again?

Would I someday understand the treasures hidden even in this dark tunnel of grief and loss? Would I find precious gifts to value in this -- as my mom found in the egg yokes?

Years have passed and my little freckled face is gaining the wrinkles of a grandma face, but the day I thanked God for those egg yokes still lives in me.

In many life-altering moments through the years I offered that same sacrifice of a heart that said "Thank You, God" even before I could see the gift in what lay before me.  And I did receive precious treasure!

If nothing else, I could always thank Him — that He was near through it all.

Thank you, God - for this!

"We thank You, O God! We give thanks because You are near." Psalm 75:1 (NLT)