Think On This

A friend reminded me recently, “Pilgrims and Puritans weren’t the same thing.” So, for sake of clarification, before we completely put Thanksgiving back in boxes this holiday season, I thought I’d get in this one last plug for the P’s. 

PILGRIMS aka SEPARATISTS You may not be familiar with this term, but Pilgrims were also known by another name: Separatists. Apparently, our trusty Pilgrims didn’t want any part of the Church of England, so they completely “separated” themselves. Thus term Separatists. Uncomfortable with the heavy rituals and symbolism found in the Anglican Church they preferred a more simplified form of worship.  They felt their studies of the New Testament confirmed Scripture as portraying the original church (right after Jesus had been on earth) as a simple church.  Not having a need to take on the Anglican Church at that time, they decided to just “separate” themselves from it completely.  And so they did.

Their pastor, Richard Clyfton also taught them a form of democratic self-government where the majority ruled all decision making and they believed in equal rights and equal duties for members of its congregation.  (Sounds like a Personal Responsibility program if you ask me). 

History books show that the Pilgrims were warm, generous, and thoughtful towards fellow citizens and with the Indians they met in America. They wore the ordinary fashions you’d have found in England at that time and Wills and Inventories of that period show that some of the leading men wore brightly colored clothing such as red, green or violet leggings or pants. This is a far cry from the dark, boring clothing of the Puritan image that we have been spoon-fed. The Pilgrims were good-natured, fun-loving people who loved life while insisting on the freedom of choice. 

Remember: It was the Pilgrims who established Plymouth Colony. It was the Pilgrims who celebrated that first Thanksgiving with the Indians and it was the Pilgrims who ushered in the American principles of democratic government - not the Puritans. So, who then were those notorious Puritans? 

GLAD YOU ASKED. The Pilgrims weren’t the only believers who weren’t too thrilled with the Church of England at the time. The Puritans wanted to “purify” the church in the area of worship.  Since they too didn’t feel a church war would be successful, they quietly formed a rather severe, militant group of believers. The church leaders ruled the parishioners lives and they weren’t the least bit tolerant to those with opposing views. Committed in their quest for “pure” religion, they were pretty relentless when it came to punishing anyone who went against their doctrines (think Salem Witch Trials). Their attire was dark and plain and accessories were unacceptable as they were deemed the work of the devil. (Man, would I have been in major trouble!) 

So, the moral of our lesson today kids is simply this: the Pilgrims and the Puritans were worlds apart in their religious views, their governing style, their everyday attitudes, and their choice of clothing.  Just a little food for thought on this post Turkey, stuffing, and pie holiday weekend. 

Selah.

As I looked out across the yard after stuffing myself like the Thanksgiving turkey back in the house, I began to count, 1,2,3, no wait 1,2,3,4,5…8 dogs?  It had been quite a houseful. But I had no idea that many canines were wandering the property as well.  We had managed to juggle 5 kids, 2 teens, 3 senior citizens and 22 adults into the kitchen while jockeying for position to load up our plates, but this latest revelation exposed just how full our Thanksgiving truly was. 

Seven car loads had made their way to the feasting destination. When we all had finally arrived we gathered around a plethora of selections. There was ham, and turkey with dressing. Mashed potatoes with two kinds of gravy. Cranberry sauce, salad and rolls. Broccoli, sweet potato, and corn casseroles. Two kinds of dips with chips and crackers.  Asparagus and Green Bean casseroles. 4 kinds of pies of pies and coffee along with a huge tray of cookies and fudge. And every morsel was homemade. (S’mores by the campfire topped off the evening). As we held hands to pray my uncle did not disappoint as he choked back the tears of gratitude while we all bowed our heads. 

Of course the centerpiece of the house was the omni-present TV screen which faithfully flashed the latest football game. The welcome airwaves took us late into the evening culminating with the big game for a certain set of alumns. Conversations ranged from memories of family times together, to catching up on the latest news, to the usual banterings about politics. 

All in all, I would guess the above was a pretty typical Thanksgiving in America.  At least in the heartland it seems.  And it really doesn’t get much better than that. As we made our way home in the beautiful fall air, the Starbucks stop at the half-way point seemed the perfect ending to a very perfect day. 

Yes, we felt very blessed.  And I hope you found yourself at the end of your day feeling much the same. I am most grateful for this country that I live in and for the people who left their native lands and trekked the stormy waters to make it their home. Here’s to many more Happy Thanksgivings to come. And May God Bless America, yet, again. 

Best, S. 

For those of you who like to reminisce during the holidays, there is one memory I would personally prefer to forget. But alas, such will not be the case. In light of the fact that a few of the girls and I paid homage to the new 007 James Bond film this past weekend, (which I loved!)  I felt a little walk down memory lane of sorts might just be in order. 

It was Thanksgiving and I was visiting my mother (as all good daughters who live hundreds of miles away do).  There was a question regarding an appliance in her house and it occurred to her that the neighbor might have the answer. So, with gift plate of goodies, or what I felt was actually a peace offering for our “Can you come over and help us?” plea, we set out for the 20-yard trek next door. 

While my mom chatted up her friend, I began conversing with the woman’s spouse. It was when he got to the part about a taxi cab, the country of Turkey, and the 1950’s that I laughed out loud and jokingly announced, “So, what? Were you a covert operative or something?”  At that point, the room froze.   I was begging the floor to open up and swallow me. But it was Mexican tile. And it didn’t move. 

The woman, a salt pillar at this point, merely opened her mouth, looked at her husband, and then stared back at me. With shock on her face she choked out the words, “He’s never talked about that.”  He then mumbled something about languages and Germany. As I nervously tried to cover, it only got worse. “Uh, yeah, a friend of mine was married to a guy. They were stationed in Germany. He posed as an auto mechanic. Spoke Bosnian. You know, Uh,…” but the verbal decline only plummeted.  The woman, yes, his second wife, now just stared at me even more dumbly. At this point, I was physically growing ill. Oh, for a tornado from Kansas to suddenly sweep me away. But no. I had to weather this one alone.  My mom just stood there with the usual, “Why do you have to talk so much?” look on her face that only a mother can give. 

As the man walked me to, and out, the front door, I figured he was quickly thinking and preparing how to kill and dispose of me within the next three seconds that he had before the other women exited the house and caught up with us.  But instead, he had this amazed smirk on his face.  “How could you have known?” was all he asked incredulously.  

Relieved, yet horrified, I began apologizing profusely. “I am so sorry! Please forgive me. Don’t kill me. I am a huge fan of this stuff. I traveled with Col. Oliver North on one of his book tours. I read all of his books.  I’m a huge CIA fan. My dad worked for NASA. I just, I just, you know… know this stuff. I mean, c’mon Bob! What normal American guy was in a taxi cab in Turkey in the 50’s for cryin’out loud?! Give me a break!!”  With that, he just laughed.  And I gratefully lived to die another day. 

When we returned to my mom’s house, I pondered if, when we left for Thanksgiving dinner a few moments later, neighbor Bob wouldn’t slip in, take the jewels and return to his domain. I warned my mother to lock the safe.  But then remembered, “Oh, wait. We don’t have any family jewels. Or even a safe for that matter.” I did manage to collect a set of the Oliver North fiction books soon thereafter and delivered it a few weeks later at Christmas.  My peace offering of sorts. It was the least I could do. 

All that to say, I highly recommend, whatever you do this Thanksgiving, don’t “out” your mother’s retired, covert operative.  It’s just not the polite or merry thing to do. With that, just my thoughts during this festive week prior to our national celebration. A precious time where we give thanks for the wonderful country that Providence has allowed us to create and in which we dwell. And here’s to all the under cover 007’s that really do exist out there and fight for this sweet, sweet place we lovingly refer to as “home”. 

Shaken, but not stirred.

S. 

If feels like just a bit ago that I pulled off the freeway in Arkansas to get that much needed Starbucks fix. I was traveling home from my holiday visit with the family when that very cool home store also caught my eye. As a female who likes to live up to that part of the species, I just had to go in.  I was not disappointed.  Crossing the threshhold of the retail center I was welcomed by those wonderful 75% off sale signs and well, you know, as a girl, there’s something genetic about a price tag that low.  You just have to repsond. So I dutifully did.  A few moments later I was hauling two 4-foot, silk Amaryllis plants to my car.  When I reached the already overstuffed vehicle I was greeted by my very pitiful dog who was peering at me through the back seat window.  At this point, there had been very little room if any left for him when we began the journey. And now, I was going to try to put eight more feet of whatever it was into the car with him.  The look on his face was, “So, are you planning on tying me to the roof, because as of now, my back right leg is already in my left ear.”  I stood there a moment wondering if that wasn’t such a bad idea, but then I knew a better solution was in order.  Just what, I wasn’t exactly sure.   Nine hours later we pulled into the driveway. My hairy hound unfolded his furry body and limped out of the car while I began to strategize the unloading procedures.After 45 minutes, the deed was done.  The boxes and bags now waiting my attention at the doorway loomed ever larger.  It took about a month, but I finally succeeded in finding room for each of the precious items I had hauled all the way from Texas. (Along with the very pliable pooch, of course.)Then, this morning, I found myself back in that same storage area thinking, “I just got these in here, and now I have to take them out?”  It was quite a stressful moment. But is quickly passed.  When I pictured the house in full regalia, and the counter tops full of wonderful ingredients awaiting those precious recipes, the pain disoved into peace and contentment.Yes, it truly is the most wonderful time of year.  And that is exactly what I plan to do.  I will create Thanksgiving and Christmas in my home and make it special.   It’s up to me.  No one will arrive on my doorstep, decorations in tow, and set up the house.  That’s my job.  And a welcomed one at that. With that, during this next week, all of the stash will make its way up the stairs and into the living areas of my home. A job I certainly will enjoy, to be sure.So here’s to thankfulness and merriness for at least the next 40 or so days.Chat soon.Stephanie