Thanksgiving a Time of Memories by Tracie Peterson
When I was a little girl, we sometimes drove to a small Kansas town to visit with my great-grandmother and her daughter, whom we called Aunt Lucille. It was truly an “over the river and through the woods” experience. Well, maybe not so much woods as stands of windbreak trees since it was rural Kansas. My mother would often share stories of her childhood there; after all this was her grandmother.
Great-Grandma lived in a small house on land that once had been a farm. I have some very distinct memories of the outbuildings, house, and landscape. The experiences I had there have also heavily influenced my writing. I learned so many firsts there. For example, they had a mulberry tree that was massive. I remember announcing to my music teacher when we sang “Here we go round the mulberry bush” that it wasn’t a bush at all, but a really big tree. And its fruit was quite delightful, but badly stained your clothes and hands.
My great-grandmother lived with one foot in the 1960s and one in the late 1800s. She used a crank phone, a treadle sewing machine, a large wood cookstove, and an outhouse. There was a water pump at the back door and no indoor plumbing whatsoever. I found all that fascinating and spent hours asking my mother about those things and so much more. It filled me with a passion for the pioneer days and the hard life they lived.
I had no way of knowing back then how it would stir to life stories that I would write. I had no understanding of how trips to the outhouse would stimulate my imagination. I have often told the story of passing along the path to “the necessary.” There were several outbuildings on the way, one of which was the milk and cream separator house. In the window of this little building someone had placed a knife. It was wedged in between the wire screen and frame. It was just a little butter knife, but to my age-six way of thinking, I was certain it was for defense against wild animals and outlaws. I used to practice making sure I could reach it. Imagine my disappointment when I learned years later that it was used to scrape mud off shoes before returning to the house.
My great-grandmother was a godly woman, as was my Aunt Lucille. They were wonderful women who often told stories about their younger days. I loved to sit and listen to the adults talk around the table. Sometimes they told of things God had done to protect them. Other times, it was about how God had provided something in a moment of crisis. There were reflections on the past as well. My great-grandmother’s son John had been drafted into service during World War II. It was a mistake, because he was past the age of the draft, but he answered the call and went to war, where he was killed in 1942. Her stories about him were how I learned that no matter how old a mother is, she will still weep for the loss of her child.
As I grew older and these visits became less frequent, I remember trying to learn all that I could. My Aunt Lucille showed me how the treadle sewing machine worked and the various duties related to the wood cookstove. I learned all about the warming box and the water receptacle, as well as how the stove required cleaning and maintenance. It was all wonderful detail that I was able to take with me through the years and utilize in my historical stories.
Eventually, my great-grandmother and Aunt Lucille could no longer care for themselves, and the place was sold. But those experiences and memories linger. So, too, gratitude and thanksgiving. The memories of family and its importance not only to the past, but also the present and future have stayed with me down through the years.
A heart of gratitude isn’t always easy to maintain, but I’ve found that it changes everything. I remember being encouraged to write down the things for which I was thankful. Write them down each day and thank God for them. Starting the morning with a heart of gratitude and thanksgiving sets the stage for the day to come. It’s impossible to be focused on sorrow and discouragement when your praising God for all He’s given.
With that in mind, I’ve been taught that Thanksgiving should be a daily celebration, and I am so grateful for the people in my life who were living examples of that thankfulness. I hope as you celebrate Thanksgiving you think about this and try it for yourself.
Check out Tracie’s latest release: Knowing You:
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Budding artist May Parker is captivated by the Japanese exhibits at the Alaska-Yukon-Pacific Exposition and longs to know more about her mother’s heritage–which her mother refuses to speak of because of the heartache she left behind in Japan. Wanting to experience more of the exhibits, May works as a Camera Girl–but her curiosity leads her into danger when a suit of samurai armor becomes the target of an elusive art forger.
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