T is for TURKEY

Farm animals have a rather pointless life in many ways. To exist purely to provide food for others is a very worthy cause but to have no input into why you exist is entirely another matter. At home we kept several different types of farm animals, ranging from those that existed on four feet to others that were quite happy with two legs and feathers. There were three small wooden houses or arks in the orchard closest to our house. Two of them, nestling among Victoria plum trees, sat facing each other about fifteen yards apart. Over the years, constant journeys between our back door and the arks had worn a path through the long grass and nettles that bordered both sides. They were both black in colour though one had been there long before I was and was in a worse state of repair but they were both homes to a small flock of hens and banties that spent the day roaming in the vicinity and often dropping their eggs in the most unlikely places. They were fed every day and their offerings collected and though they were expected to lay within the confines of their homes, it was not uncommon to find their oval produce under the boughs of a plum tree or at the base of a large nettle. The local wildlife hoods were also keenly aware of their presence and from time to time you would find an egg with the contents already consumed by a weasel or just the feathers after a trespassing fox had enjoyed a good meal. The third ark, much closer to the house, at least during daylight, was home to a few ducks that provided larger eggs and generally made a mess wherever they went. So most days of the year we could have had egg in one of its various guises for tea. However, there comes a time in every life when usefulness is not what it once was and so the need to diversify. In the case of the hens, banties and ducks their only diversification was to present themselves on the kitchen table instead of their eggs and unfortunately from time to time, that's exactly what happened.

The pigs didn't fare much better, however, generally we were spared the embarrassment of eating our own stock, since they were usually shipped off to market, no doubt eventually adorning some other dinner or breakfast table. On one occasion though, dad did decide to have one killed for home use and I remember well it being brought back home after the assassination to be cured. Sounds a bit of a contradiction in terms really! there was an awful lot of salt about that day as each piece was being preserved and I do have recollections of eating bacon, pork and the like for a long time afterwards though there is no doubt that its flavour far surpassed anything in you can buy in the supermarkets.

Cattle had a similar fate, eventually, and again none of dad's stock ever ended up as our Sunday roast, not that I'm aware of anyway, but at least some of them provided milk for the cereal and long before I was born, many of the neighbours, arrived on a daily basis to fill up their containers with the fresh white stuff. And while all three enterprises provided a regular income for the family, there is no doubt that the fate of all of them would be on a dinner plate sometime in the future. I guess you could call it sacrifice.

Which brings me neatly ( or otherwise) to the turkey, which we never kept on the farm, except hanging in its unfeathered state just before Christmas Day. My little pocket dictionary defines it as 'a large bird reared for food' and I suppose Christmas provides ample evidence to uphold that statement for no turkey farmer rears his flock for any other purpose except killing and preparing them for Christmas Day. Which remind me of the old joke that asks, 'How do you prepare a turkey for Christmas?' 'Tell them not to waste any money on presents this year.'

But to have the sole purpose in life to become food for others is, I suppose the ultimate sacrifice by an animal, for the turkey was born to die.

Jesus came to earth with only one purpose and that was to die and be the ultimate sacrifice for our sins. He was born to die and He didn't have an alternative for it was the only way that we could ever be reconciled to God. What makes this more wonderful is that God chose it that way, He made the decision, He knew exactly the day it would happen and nothing would ever change his mind, because He loved us. John sums it up so well when he writes 'This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.' What a humbling thought that the God of all creation cared for me and was prepared to do something about it.

Every year another turkey gives up its life for our Christmas dinner. God's sacrifice was once and once only but I can feast on His goodness for ever.