The Turkey Who Stole The Show

Suzanne Guest is today’s guest blogger, Suzanne is another writing friend I met at Write Canada, Canada’s largest Christian writers conference. She is not only a blogger, but a photographer and she knits me things!!!!!!!! I hope you enjoy today’s post on how a little turkey can steal the show, and help us put into perspective our losses.
 
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This special day was a  topsy turvy day for me emotionally.  I was on a roller coaster of emotions.  Belly laughter at several points; feelings of loss at others.

I went to my grandchildren’s Sunday morning church service for their Christmas pageant.  One grandson was Joseph; the other a shepherd.

As I drove to my daughter’s church for this pageant, I felt a great heaviness.  At that point, I didn’t really understand it.  But it kept getting worse.  By the time, I was seated with my daughter in a pew and the carols had begun, I was so down-hearted that I couldn’t focus – or sing (and I love to sing even if it’s off key.)

Eventually I realized that I was feeling the loss of my former church.  The loss of community most of all.  All around me were people who knew one other, greeting friends.  My eyes kept playing tricks on me and I kept seeing resemblances of the faces around me to people I knew in my previous church.  I felt so very much alone in that pew.  Even though my son in law was on one side of me and my daughter on the other.  Even though she kept touching me to reassure me.

 

Fortunately, my daughter loves me.  And understands.  And I had my camera with me.  So I did what I always do – the one thing that helps keep me focused and in the moment:  I took pictures.

My daughter stayed with me like glue, reassuring me.  At one point, a man came towards us and I started to panic, fearing that he was going to tell me I was doing something wrong – like taking pictures.  But he walked past us with a smile.  My daughter kept saying “Hey!  This is (the name of the church).  It’s Ok to be different.  It’s OK not to be perfect.  We have needy people here.  People with diagnosed mental diseases who talk to themselves.  And look! we have a turkey in the pageant!  Because this little guy wanted to dress up like a turkey instead of a sheep – and that was OK.  It was OK to have a turkey in the pageant along with the sheep, angels, shepherds, kings, Mary and Joseph.  It’s OK to march to your own drummer.  It’s OK.  (One year they even had a polar bear among the sheep – my youngest grandson – and until yesterday they were still talking about the time they had a polar bear in the pageant).  It’s more important to them that people be there and be comfortable than that they fit a certain image.

 

And that is where the hilarity started.

It’s hard for two year olds to stay still.  They’re inquisitive little people.  And this little one in his turkey outfit was very inquisitive.  He wasn’t content to stay with the sheep.  I guess he’s not a follower.

He was there at the birth of Jesus.

 

He was there rolling on the floor when the angels visited the shepherds.

He was fascinated with the baby in the manger.  So fascinated that he actually stole the baby and carried him proudly to the front where he joined the other children in a song.

 
 
 
 
 

 He was there when the Star led the Kings to the manager.

 

 And then he walked away with the star.

At that point, he not only stole the star, but he stole the show.  The congregation erupted with laughter.  Even me.  Standing at the back.  Letting go with a belly laugh.

It was a strange feeling, to be able to laugh like that, so hard that I almost cried, while feeling this acute sense of loss.

Recovery at times is a mixture of paradoxes.  Laughter and loss.  Both strong feelings.  Both co-existing in the same place at the same time.

Later yesterday, when I was starting to be able to think through things, I realized that it’s time to start looking forward, not back.  The term looking forward entails anticipation.  Looking for something to happen.

Perhaps like the Jewish people were anticipating the birth of a saviour all those centuries ago ….


 
 

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