Long before Frederick Buechner was a well-known Christian author and Presbyterian minister, as a young man he sat in the dead of winter in Army fatigues somewhere near Anniston, Alabama, eating supper out of a mess kit. The infantry training battalion that he had been assigned to was on bivouac. There was a cold drizzle of rain, and everything was mud. The sun had gone down.

He was still hungry when he finished and noticed that a man nearby had something left over that he was not going to eat. It was a turnip. He asked if he could have it and the man tossed it over to him. He missed the catch; the turnip fell to the ground. But Buechner wanted it so badly that he picked it up and started eating it anyway, mud and all.

And then he had a transforming moment. Here is how he describes it, "as I ate it," he says, "time deepened and slowed down. With a lurch of the heart that is real to me still, I saw suddenly, almost as if from beyond time altogether, that not only was the turnip good, but the mud was good too, even the drizzle and cold were good, even the Army that I had dreaded for months."

He concluded: "Sitting there in the Alabama winter with my mouth full of cold turnip and mud, I could see at least for a moment how if you ever took truly to heart the ultimate goodness and joy of things, even at their bleakest, the need to praise someone or something for it would be so great that you might even have to go out and speak of it to the birds of the air."