We have a 22 pound turkey that has been sitting in our freezer for months! Peter and I, wanting to make room in our freezer for our fall garden freezing extravaganza have decided to have friends over for dinner on Saturday to help us consume this bird. I began to thaw the bird on Thursday in the fridge and today have taken it out and set it in the kitchen sink to thaw more quickly.
I am planning on being out of the house for a few hours to day, so I grabbed a pink double layer fleece blanket that I used to cover Maria's bucket carseat with. (I had just brought it inside, I had last used it the past two nights to cover my tomatoes). I wrapped it around and tucked it under the turkey in case our mischievous little felines that we share our home with should smell it and decide they want a nibble.
I rub my hand over the pink fleece blanket and pause.
I keep my hand still.
The thawing turkey wrapped in a pink baby blanket, felt just like Heavy did the day of we placed him in his casket. Hard and cold. The chill and deep stiffness masked by the soft blanket.
My mind instantly went back to Henry Anderson Mortuary in South Minneapolis, the 1970's wood paneled office, out of date furniture, the love that was in that place (our family and the mortuary staff), and the image of my four year old son carefully carrying with pride and tenderness his baby brother upstairs to meet mommy and Maria in the office.
I smile at the thawing turkey.
I say THANK YOU to the Lord for the peace that flows in my heart and mind.
I say THANK YOU to the Lord for our Heavy and the memories we created with him.
I say THANK YOU to the Lord for the ways that he never leaves us, but continues to transform us.
I say THANK YOU to the Lord that a cold turkey which reminds me of our dead son doesn't cause me to crumble on the floor and cry, but instead to smile and find JOY in the memory.
