Thanks to Those Who Provided My Food

 “I am thankful for the chicken that laid this egg and for all of those who brought this food to my table,”   I prayed before eating breakfast.  Does that sound a bit childish to you?  Well, as I have aged, I’ve become much more appreciative of where my food comes from and what it takes to get it to my plate.  Children these days don’t often grow up on farms and conversations about what has to happen for them to have food to eat promotes awareness and appreciation.

As a child, I gathered eggs on our chicken ranch and didn’t exactly love reaching under the hens sitting on them because some of them would deliver a hard peck.  After gathering the eggs, I would help place them in rows on a conveyer belt where they moved through a sandpaper machine and water.  Each egg was inspected for soft shells or cracks before this process because it was a mess to clean up the belts and the machine if an egg broke.  After going through the machine, the eggs were checked to be sure they were clean and placed carefully into cartons.  Sometimes we had to sand the eggs lightly where the machine missed something.

Later, my dad switched from laying hens to raising fryers for a poultry company.  The chicken houses had to be cleaned, sterilized, and prepared with wood shavings before each truckload of chicks was delivered.  We put watering lids on individual gallon jars that were filled with water and turned upside down quickly so the chicks could drink.  Rolls of tin about 10 inches high were laid out in circles around each large gas-fired brooder that kept the chicks warm.  We emptied a few boxes of chicks into each circle so they weren’t crowded.  I would sit in the clean shavings watch the little chicks scurry around while I helped them into my lap.  It was glorious being covered in yellow chicks!

 As the chicks grew larger, eventually the tin “fences” were rolled up and more wood shavings were spread over the floor where all the chicks could grow larger together.  I was glad when the chickens were large enough to drink water from the small water troughs because washing the dirty water jars and their lids was a job I disliked, especially when it was cold.

When the chickens got larger, we often had to move some of them from one chicken house to another because they would smother each other by rushing into piles against the walls if there were too many in one house.  A sudden noise or an unfamiliar person going into the chicken house could cause a stampede.  When moving the chickens, it was done carefully by herding some into a wire corral and gathering a few by the legs to drop into a gunny sack to be carried to the next chicken house.  I still have scars on my arms from the scratches inflicted during these operations.

Once the chickens reached the designated time for growth, trucks came with cages and the chickens were once again trapped into sacks and put into the wooden cages to be taken to the processing plant.  If you’ve ever visited a poultry processing plant, you will remember the awful smell.  I felt sorry for the people who worked there in the steam and stench.  It was a dirty job where the workers were on their feet for long shifts each day.

I never eat chicken without remembering that even though I lived on a chicken ranch as a child, we were allowed only a certain number of chickens to eat.  The big companies docked my father’s pay for every chicken that wasn’t in the original delivery count.  If many chickens had died for various reasons, I remember eating only rice with milk with no chicken because my father’s paycheck would be short.

As you read my description about what it took to get eggs or chickens to market, did you think about other items you eat that went through a huge process before they made it to your table?  Think about what the farmers go through to prepare fields for planting and then the planting and tending of those fields.  Think about the farmworkers who pick and prepare the produce for transport, those who transport the goods, the factories that process the food or pack it, the truckers who drive it to the store, and the grocers who unload, stock the shelves, and sell the food.  It is a time-consuming, labor-intensive activity to get every item we eat to our plates. 

Expressing gratitude for our food and the people who brought it to us is a small thing that will help us realize the blessings we have.  Heavenly Father ultimately is responsible for us receiving nourishment for our bodies.  He created all of these things for the benefit of man.  Saying a blessing on the food helps Him know we appreciate all that He has provided.  Expressing humble thanks in our prayers for where our food comes from and for those who bring it to us is an appropriate acknowledgment of the bounty we enjoy through the labor and sacrifice of others.