In these last days running up to the Thanksgiving Holiday I've already lost count of how many times I've explained to polite, chatty fellow shoppers and tradespeople that I didn't grow up with this Holiday. That it's not something that's hugely important to us as I grew up in England and we don't celebrate it. Actually, the more that I think about it, I realize that I'm just kidding myself and it's actually a huge time for reflection and meditation in our lives. Even more than, say the New Year.
Our family recently visited Plimoth Plantation and saw a snapshot of how the English settlers and the Native People existed side-by-side. We learned that though we have a rose-colored impression of the Pilgrims and their neighbors sitting down and enjoyed a fine feast that first Thanksgiving, those facts are slightly skewed. There was much tension and distrust between the groups for a long period of time. The Pilgrims brought new strains of disease and infestations of insects with them that destroyed the ecosystems and wiped out the Native communities around them. Even the Pilgrims suffered on their journey, losing many of their group on the boats, and dying from the sickness and disease as they toiled to make a life under extremely hard circumstances. And the Native People had to adapt their way of life to co-exist with others who were very unlike them.
I've wondered, since our enlightening visit, about what made it possible for those communities to co-exist, albeit in a state of tension, and not turn to extreme violence or hatred. Alongside this I was unexpectedly reminded of one of my 'favorite' modern history stories about the trenches in the first World War. It was reported that soldiers put down their arms on Christmas Eve and met their enemies in No-Man's land, beyond the barbed wire. I understand that the men talked, mingled, even played soccer. They gave cigarettes to each other. They communicated in broken English, and sang carols together. And after this period of peace then they retreated and continued to shoot at each other as their commanders instructed. It must have been unbelievably painful for those men to attack their counterparts with whom they had just spent very possibly their own final hours.
Perhaps the reason that the Pilgrims and the Native People managed to get along to some degree, even with such suspicion and distrust, was that they had no-one telling them to destroy the other side. They were working it out for themselves, taking the resources that they had, and trying to move on. Existing under harsh conditions in their own 'no-man's land'. A place that felt barren and uncharted, and a possible hotbed of unrest or hatred between them and the people who were opposite to them in so many ways.
Recently, we made the decision to move on from our faith community and find a new church home. It was a long and painful time of decision making. The reasons are not really for discussion on this blog, but suffice to say it was not easy to make that choice. In fact, it's been extremely painful. We've discovered that when you leave your spiritual home of 11 years you don't just bounce lightheartedly to another church with a smile and a wave and begin over again. We've entered in to a place between familiarity and uncertainty where we're not sure what is going to happen.We leave behind the safety and comfort of knowing everyone and being a part of a team and a like-minded group. And there's an element of discomfort and misunderstanding from some people who don't understand or agree with our decision.
Is this a no-man's land? Maybe. It's definitely a scary place to be. It's also lonely, and exhausting as we try and break new ground and think about our next step. And there's a huge feeling of grief as we literally mourn the apparent richness and safety of what we've left behind. Mix anger, disappointment and sadness in with the grief and it's a cocktail of emotions that is exhausting to say the least. And it's something that I just can't fix, in the way that moms are supposed to do.
In our situation, as with the Pilgrims, and those soldiers of almost a century ago, something is present which I cannot dispute. Only God's grace and mercy can provide any peace in a place of desperation. As the Pilgrims broke new ground in a new land, and as the soldiers crooned Silent Night in the mire-laden farmlands of France, they had little hope in their own ability to make the situation turn out right. In the uncertainty of the future, we have to have a hope in something more. When we feel broken, we cannot lift ourselves up. Only a God who is all-seeing and all-loving can do that.
And that is one truth that I am truly thankful to know.
