Of all the holidays my favorite is Thanksgiving.

My love affair with that holiday began because I lived with my grandparents. Each year my grandmother would begin about the first week of November and start making things. Bushels of homemade noodles, she made the most amazing noodles, with seemingly nothing. She would search out farm eggs and buy about three, four dozen for her noodles.

I watched her as she cracked each one and gently shifted the egg back and forth between the two egg shell halves to sort the yolk from the whites. She was prejudice against the whites in her noodles, only yolks and the more orange the color the better. She always said the whites made them tough.

Next a mountain of flour with just a pinch of salt. There was never ever a measuring device in this entire process. She began mixing the yolks and the flour until the consistency was “just right,” rolled them so thin you could read the newspaper through them, rolled them up and sliced them into little pinwheels that we grandkids would unwrap and place on a floured dish towel and cover to dry for days until they were like sticks. The night before Thanksgiving we would be up late getting the turkey ready and the stuffing as well as the countless side dishes, and oh the pies. I just gained five pounds from this memory.

The turkey pan drippings were mixed with chicken broth and brought to a rolling boil and you had to shake the noodles into the pot just right so they would not bunch up and stick together. After a few minutes of rolling around in the huge soup pot the noodles were taken off the burner and allowed to rest a bit. The most wonderful sauce slowly thickened around the golden noodle strands. Some pats of butter were floated on the top of this concoction and the feast was complete.

Mountains of mashed potatoes were then covered with the tasty chicken sauce and golden strands. The noodles were so tender you did not even have to chew, they just seemed to melt in your mouth. The golden glow of buttery, “chickeny” flavor would melt in your mouth and make you warm and comfy all over and even ooze from your countenance. If love has a flavor for me it was my Mamaw’s noodles!

I have not had those noodles in many years; Grandma has been gone for sometime now. I attempt to make them myself once in a while. Most times they are quite good. My family loves them, my friends and neighbors love them, but they are not my Mamaw’s.

Everything we do in this world, in this life is a one time offer. Each moment will never be repeated again. Each second is a snapshot of miracles beyond our comprehension. What if life is to be savored like a plate of homemade noodles swimming in buttery sauce? Love each other, don’t waste an instant! Rid yourself of the things that keep you from loving fully! Take time to relish in life and the people around you. It is a one time offer you will never get to do over!

And when you sit back satisfied with your belly completely full, do not forget to say thank you!

It seems so simple, and we take it for granted, but to verbally give thanks is a documentation, a validation of how blessed we really are. The German Mystic Meister Eckhart stated, “If we only pray one prayer, a Prayer of Thanksgiving, that will suffice.”

I am praying that you will all see something to be thankful for in your walk today!

– Submitted by Rev. Lance Smith, Associate Pastor, Congregational Church of Tryon UCC