Pastor Ken
Thanksgiving is a major holiday in the United States. Based on the significant sales of airline tickets and the notable increase in traffic across cities and states, numerous families still highly cherish this holiday and make dedicated efforts to gather together.
I didn’t celebrate this holiday in Hong Kong. Nearly fifty years ago, I spent my first Thanksgiving in the Midwest.
At that time, I was a freshman at a small university with about 4,000 students. Since I lived in the dormitory, I didn’t need to worry about room and board. When I received a notice that the dormitory would be closed during Thanksgiving, I didn’t think it was a big deal. Thanksgiving was on a Thursday. I thought I just had to pack my basic necessities the day before and request my friend’s hospitality for a few days. Soon, I learned that Thanksgiving is an occasion for bringing families together, much like the Chinese Mid-Autumn Festival, where inviting outsiders is not common practice. Moreover, most people had planned it a month ago. Some even left the school early on Wednesday morning. It seemed that no one could take me in on such short notice.
A week before Thanksgiving, I was wondering whether I should ask a distant relative who lived three hours away if I could stay with her. My roommate’s mother happened to call him and asked about my plans. Knowing that I was a foreign student and had no family in the United States, she invited me to their home. Without hesitation, I gladly accepted the invitation. While I’d still be a guest staying in someone else’s house, the experience of being specifically invited and eagerly welcomed evokes an entirely different sentiment compared to pleading to be accommodated.
On Thanksgiving Day, my roommate’s clan, comprising twenty people, arrived at different times. There was no fixed time for lunch or dinner. Food was laid out on the table all day. Whoever was hungry could just help himself. Some who came in late brought new dishes which tempted me to try. In the afternoon, the roasted turkey was served, and everyone enjoyed another round of delicious food. The adults chatted and watched the football game on TV, while the children played nearby. As the evening drew to a close, everyone enjoyed a delectable meal, with hearts full of warmth and a genuine sense of belonging.
I was very grateful because my roommate’s mother thought of my situation and allowed me to join their family. I was alone, and she invited me to spend the holiday together. Indeed it was a timely help when I most needed it.
Thanksgiving finds its roots in the pioneering English immigrants who arrived in the New World in 1621. After a year of working hard, God blessed them with sunshine and rain, and a rich harvest, so they gathered together to thank God. They also thought about the indigenous people and invited them to the table to celebrate together.
Later, I settled in the United States. Most of the members in the church where I served were international students and scholars with no families around them. We usually gathered in the church and held a potluck dinner, where everyone brought food and spent Thanksgiving together. When I served in another church, we organized host families to have dinner with international students or single-parent families. All those yearning for the embrace of a loving family were greeted with open arms.
In life, we’ll inevitably encounter difficult times. As the saying goes, just when you become aware of the roof leaks, the rain seems to pour. In those critical moments, even though we don’t expect someone to step in and solve our problems, yet if someone happens to give us a little warmth, we’ll treasure it in our hearts.
My roommate passed away a few years ago. Although his mother and I live in different cities, we still keep in touch. We share the same faith and pray for each other. Every year during Thanksgiving, while thanking God, I always remember her and will reach out to her to express my gratitude.
