It was to be just a simple, one-time dinner.
It had been arduous on both sides for all: the long journey from Europe on ships over stormy, unpredictable seas. Some died, but all were sick at some point of the long journey and just wanting it to be over. They were going from a world they knew to uncertain circumstances in a territory of which they really knew nothing but hearsay, which didn’t offer the best and most promising circumstances. In fact, what they had heard was downright scary.
There were savages, they heard: Indians who were there first and desperately trying to protect their land from the invaders. Who wouldn’t? The ‘invaders’ knew in their hearts they would react the same were the situation reversed, yet the promise of new life away from dictators and being told how to worship was too alluring to those who chose to take the chance to go.
Some went because they were dragged, of course. Children had no choice. Others were influenced by more enthusiastic and convincing family members.
Now they were there. It hadn’t been easy. The weather was cold; the accommodations were scant and primitive but eventually the indigenous people—those referred to as Indians--seemed to be willing to communicate. The two factions became friendly; each thankful for the other.
Compliance became a victory for both sides.
“Let’s have a dinner to celebrate each other and our thankfulness. We’ll get together; each will bring food to share.”
“You can’t make it on a weekend? That’s all right, we’re flexible for our friends. Okay, how about Thursday?”
They all came, not forgetting why. They celebrated their gratitude for working out their differences, sharing their knowledge, evolving into helping each other and becoming friends. They celebrated God, their freedom of religion and their bonding.
It was just a little dinner. But then they said, “This was really fun. Let’s do it again. How about the third Thursday of November? Is that good for everyone?
And it was. It still is. But let’s not forget the reason for the celebration.
