Thanksgiving Thoughts

We are on the Eve of Thanksgiving, and in the midst of a season of "strangeness," I would say. Holidays are a dime a dozen in Moldova, although they are treated with more reverence than that phrase implies. The abundance of holidays, mostly being to some degree "holy" by association with the churches here, makes me think of our own holidays. I've decided Thanksgiving is the best American holiday. For me it's never been about football and certainly not about the day after. Thanksgiving is awesome. Think of Christmas. Now think of Christmas without the presents. That's what is so cool about Thanksgiving. For some reason we developed a tradition around the simple idea of getting together. It falls in the time of year that makes me think it has a lot to do with thanking God for a harvest (the fact that it's annual reminds us to thank Him regardless of the size or quality of the harvest). The harvest of the summer and autumn bring food and our creativities bring dishes to each others' homes. We get together with family and/or friends and just hang out. In this way it is a little less like Christmas, with the distractive gifts of Christmas. Thanksgiving is simply about family sharing time and food together.

Consumeristic culture can keep its football and black Friday deals. Just give us each other.

Our host family took us to the village our host dad is from. We were welcomed into his parents' home with handshakes, hugs, and kisses. These were people who had never met us, and by the way our host dad spoke on the phone with them before we left, had not planned on hosting us. Yet, when we arrived, we felt esteemed, prodigal guests. Why would these people welcome us to their home?
We exchanged names, which don't seem to be as important here as in America, and immediately began experiencing their hospitality with a quick tour of their home. It was small but very comfortable. We began sharing a meal, 90% of which came from the family's garden and stores. The work represented in this meal must have totaled in the dozens of hours. The homemade wine, vodka, and fruit juice tasted wonderful and was given freely. We all enjoyed a few laughs and exchanges of culture as we compared words and Shelbi and I tried to keep up with the Romanian.
At one point in the meal, Shelbi teared up. When our hosts asked her what she felt, she couldn't explain. I asked her what she was feeling, but I also had trouble. Finally we both said something like, "Nu sint cuvinturi," which means 'there aren't words.'
The weight of the situation had just hit her. We were thousands of miles away from our families experiencing exactly what our families would offer us if we were there. Yet there was no reason for it. Our host mom understood Shelbi clearly and voiced that we're all family, and later her mom expressed it even more completely when she said in Romanian that we're all children of God, and it doesn't matter what language you speak or where you live, but that we have God to thank for everything.

At this point the "tearing up" came down like a flood. I've never been so proud of my wife as when she expressed wordlessly to our Moldovan guests our utter appreciation for their hospitality. If pictures paint a thousand words, tears must provoke a million. The feelings I felt that were reflected in my wife's tears continue to put life in perspective for me.

So, tomorrow is Thanksgiving. My goal is to share the love I felt today with the people I encounter.