My House Smells Like Memories

Thanksgiving dinner is so much more than the food on the plate, but it is important.  Who is sitting around the table is more important, but even that isn't all of it.  To me, the meaning of a Thanksgiving day celebration is the cumulative total of it all.  It is all the years and all the combinations.  The overlapping layers of sensory  experiences.  Some things are core - like the turkey, and going around saying what you are most thankful for, but I suppose if you had enough of the other pieces, you could have a traditional Thanksgiving dinner even without these.

As I was preparing the big, bald bird last night, I thought about how I used to watch my Grandmother do exactly what I was doing.  I was fascinated and disgusted by her reaching her hand in and pulling out the neck and that bag of grossness.  As I stuck my hand in to that carcass, it could have been her hand, or my mother's hand.  All of us, over the years, over the decades and the generations, doing the same things, creating the same meal, the same celebration for our families.  I like feeling that connection to the past, the connection to where I came from. 

I woke up early today and baked a pumpkin pie, then got the stuffing going, and eventually the turkey in the oven.  The combination of those smells, brought up memories of Thanksgivings of the past.  It was almost like the ghost of Thanksgiving past was there, taking me on a tour.  Those times when I was a kid, and all I had to do was watch, wait and eat, my first Thanksgiving on my own, when I had to work at the theater, the Thanksgiving at my grandparents right before we got married, those years when we were in St. Louis, then Colorado, and Utah, and now here in Hawaii.  Thanksgivings as a child, then with small children, and now the children grown and half way across the world in different directions, all of them rolling together. All those locations, and the rotation of people at the table, yet they were somehow, fundamentally the same.  They have a common thread - gratitude for the wonderful blessing of family, and freedom, the ability to pursue our individual dreams of happiness with a good chance of success.  Thanksgiving in my world has always been about love and gratitude for God, family and freedom.  My commitment to those ideals is strengthened by the cumulative memories carried on the traditional scents of the day.

Traditions are important, it's how we pass along our values, culture and faith to the next generation.  We keep doing things the way we always have so that those core values are strengthened, and the meaningful things of life are not lost.

The Cricket

Have you ever heard the story of the crickets and the seagulls? When the first group of Mormon pioneers arrived in the Salt Lake valley, they immediately planted crops. They spent the winter living in simple log homes with mud and thatch roofs. Spring arrived and their roofs began to leak with Spring rain. They planted crops from the seeds of that first harvest, and prayed for abundance.

The crops began to grow, and things were looking up. Then mid summer the crickets showed up. They kept coming and coming and eating everything within sight. Everyday they ate more and more of the precious crops. The people did what they could to get rid of them. They tried loud noises, shooing them, and even fire. They prayed for help, but the crickets kept coming.

Finally, they held a community fast and prayer. As a united body of saints they prayed and asked God to spare their crops from the crickets, so that they would not starve.

Yesterday when I was telling this story to my class of 9 and 10 year olds I stopped to explain what a cricket was. Crickets are not common in Hawaii, and many of the children in my class had never seen one. A couple of the boys that have lived on the mainland were helping me in the explanation when one of them cried out, "Sister Minks, there's a cricket on the wall!".

Sure enough, there on the classroom wall was a small black cricket. Everyone rushed over to look at it. They were able to see exactly what a cricket was. It just sat there and slowly walked along the white concrete wall. They marveled that God sent them a cricket!

The cricket wandered away and I continued the story. Soon after fasting and praying for help, massive flocks of seagulls began to arrive. They ate the crickets until they were full, then flew to a nearby creek and vomited, then flew back to the fields and ate more crickets. The seagulls stayed for 3 weeks, eating and purging, until all of the crickets were gone and the remainder of the crops were saved. That Fall they held a celebration giving thanks to God for the gulls, and their abundant harvest.

Like God sent the pioneers the seagulls, he sent us a cricket. Our needs, great or small, are important to our Heavenly Father. He answers prayers and teaches us, if we but open our hearts and minds miracles are all around us.