Turkeys and Prayer

Yesterday I noticed in my inbox a message from Nextdoor Mulick Park with the subject, ‘Aggressive Turkey?’ Nextdoor is an email/app service connecting neighbors with neighbors, and I don’t follow it closely, but this entry caught my eye. The author expressed concern about a turkey showing no fear of traffic, and wandering around pecking cars . . . and I smiled, because I think I know that turkey. I sometimes run from our house to D & W on Breton and sometimes I will see a turkey on Eliot, near Breton. And when I’ve gotten too close, trying to take a picture, it has chased me. It is a very big bird.

I really like that turkey.

I remember when the kids were little we would sometimes see a flock of turkeys near North Shore Park in Ferrysburg, MI, when we were driving to and from the beach. For a while whenever we drove that stretch of road, they would start clucking in the back seat (there was some confusion about what sound a turkey makes). Maybe some of my fondness for the neighborhood turkey comes from the memory of their sweet clucking and their giggles . . .

I like to pray when I run, and I’m always watching my step to not trip on the sidewalk, but often my mind wanders and I spend a lot of time fretting about what’s already happened that day or what needs doing. It’s usually something around me that calls me back to the present moment and to prayer – the light coming through the trees, a rabbit on someone’s lawn, another walker or runner. Or a turkey. A turkey seems like a particularly extravagant way of getting my attention. It’s easy to overlook a rabbit or pass a beautiful tree, or even to ignore another person on the other side of the street, but a turkey is hard to miss. They are so big and so strange looking and not what I expect to see on the sidewalk or in the street. I don’t remember when I first saw a turkey on my run – it was a few years ago – but it took my breath away in wonder and kept me coming back in hopes of seeing it again.

One day after I returned joyfully from my run and reported to the family having seen the turkey again, Emma teasingly asked me, “Mom do you run just to see the turkey?” I laughed and said, “No, but if I don’t run there, I probably won’t see the turkey.” It’s a bit like prayer, actually. If I don’t pay attention, I’m less likely to experience God’s presence.

When I get to the block right before Breton, I start looking for the turkey. There’s a lot of bushes on that block that from a distance look like they could be turkeys, but it never shows up where I think it will. My turkey-spotting skills aren’t the best. And I don’t see it every time I run there. Sometimes it’s months between sightings and I’m often a little concerned I won’t see it again. But whenever I do see it, I stop and say thank you. I see it as a sign of the Spirit’s presence. A sign calling me to be present with wonder and delight in this world God has made. A sign calling me to laughter, and a sign that God delights in me, out for a run, eager for a glimpse of the turkey.