Last night was the annual UBC Thanksgiving Lovefeast and, for the fourth year, I made the turkey. And I think I kicked ass with it this year. Spending time with that bird every year is always a wonderful experience for me. Seriously. I normally begin getting all the things together about mid-week, spend Saturday evening preparing the bird, then all day Sunday cooking it. I really do put quite a bit of love into it. Until, that is, it's time to carve it. From midweek preparations all the way up to 6:00 p.m. on Sunday the thoughts that are seriously going through my head go something like-- "This church is the most important thing in my life right now. My heart is full of so much love for the people here that I feel sometimes that it might, in fact, break. I love being able to cook for them." Then around 6:00 p.m. that bird comes out of the oven looking beautiful. I then get frustrated because everyone else is having a grand old time conversing with each other while I'm stuck cutting the turkey and I'm thinking "Damn ingrates. I've been slaving over this thing for a weekend and no one even OFFERS to cut the turkey for me." I realize at that point the flip-flop of feelings that must go on within the hearts of parents on a daily basis.
But, eventually, someone always walks beside me and senses my frustration and takes over the knife duties and my heart, once again, is warmed. (This year it was Matt Singleton. Thanks, Matt!)
Then I walk around and see people laughing and hugging and watch the kids go from table to table where they are doted on and fed and I realize that I am where many people long to be. In a community where there's no such thing as "doing church." We are not seeking after the latest methods or trying to be the next big thing or trying to prove anything to anyone. We are sharing our lives with each other.
I'll cook a hundred turkeys for that. Carve them as well.