is reminiscent of the very first thanksgiving that we’re taught, in elementary school and on the knees of our parents and grandparents and other close family as we gather around our turkey feast. Imagine the first thanksgiving, far from their homeland, far from their relatives and from their usual weather. Two very different peoples sat down to enjoy a meal, celebrating a fruitful harvest, and a budding peace between the newcomers and the longtime settlers of that area.
It’s easy to forget Thanksgiving Day when outside of the United States, but there isn’t a day that goes by when I forget to give thanks. I give thanks to the people here who welcome and show me hospitality that leaves me humbled by their generosity, in the face of their poverty. I give thanks for my family, for my church family and for my friends who show me they are with me by their prayers, their support and their regular emails. I give thanks for their patience in hearing from me. I give thanks for the shade and the rain, that cool off the hot temperatures of my new homeland.
So in the tradition of the First Thanksgiving, I sat down to a meal with new friends, to a meal of dishes that will make up my diet for the next 14 months. A meal that wasn’t designated as having any special significance, only to me. A meal, that was just like every other meal, yet wasn’t, because I saw it with renewed eyes.
Happy Thanksgiving World.
Much Love, Philippines.