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Cooking Turkeys

Sometimes I think I have heard all the stories my parents have to tell. Then they come up with another one that I know nothing about. As we were playing a game tonight, my mom told one such story. Her father was a baker and the family lived in the upstairs home above the bakery. For many years at Thanksgiving, people in the neighborhood would bring their turkeys to my grandfather and he would bake them in his large ovens. I thought about what a generous gesture this was. I wonder if you would find any situation like this in any neighborhood these days. My mother also told me several times that homeless people would come to the bakery at the end of the day and my grandfather would give away everything he had left. There were no leftovers. There was no waste. These stories have helped me to get a better picture of the hard-working, selfless person that my grandfather was. I am blessed to be able to hear these stories first hand.

I Found God today learning more about the generosity of my grandfather.

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