Wednesday, November 21, 2012

A Thanksgiving Story

It had been a hard winter. Arriving in harbor in November of the past year made it extremely difficult for all those who had come on the passage.
 There were 102 of us that journeyed from the Netherlands and England to come to the New World...but that was last November. Now, 53 of us remain. We had lost men, women, and children over the last 12 months...a couple of entire families have perished. A few of us had unfortunate accidents, but for the most part sickness and starvation took its toll.
 Yet this past Spring...we had to pull ourselves together...and survive. Our trust in God was more dependent now than it ever had been, and we had to carve our future and find ways to overcome the obstacles that greeted us when we arrived.
 Many of us remained in the ship, the Mayflower, over the winter months...we didn't have a choice...it was too late to build and construct...the winter cold had set in. Being "camped up" in the ship was an unhealthy site, many of the women who aided those who got "the fever" were too infected...giving up their right to live in "fresh air" choosing instead to assist those in dire pain. The men and boys were able to get out and hunt, giving them intervals of a fresh air environment.
 People were dying all around us, some from broken hearts of losing their loved ones and many to "the fever". One lady named Mary slipped while on the deck of the ship and plunged into the cold and icey waters in the harbor...she got the fever...and died.
 Food was scarce...we were able to hunt for plenteous meat...but vegetables and fruit...were so scarce...the scurvy had an impact on manys health.

 When Spring arrived, we constructed our buildings and homes. There were large fields already cleared. The story goes these fields had been cleared by Native Americans living here...by a tribe called the Wampanoags. They had named this field we chose "Patuxet". Yet, they too faced similar conditions we were now facing...the Fever or the Plague as some called it. The village lost most of its residents and now it had been abandoned. We decided to make a go of it here and built our village where Patuxet had been....we called it "Plymouth".
 In March of this year, the year 1621 God sent us a messenger of His Mercy. We met a young man named Squanto, from the Wampanoag tribe. He was English speaking and had been in some terrible ordeals himself in the recent past. He had been captured by the Spanish, thrown in prison, and by God's Grace had now returned to his homeland...and thank God he did.
 His family and close friends had been the ones that had cleared the field and built the village we now live on....Squanto's family were all part of Patuxet. He too had lost many of his own.
 Squanto now lived within another set of families within their tribe, part of a village where the powerful chief of the entire tribe of Wampanoags resided, his name..."Massasoit". Squanto came to our village in the spring with his friend Samoset, and they were quite friendly...and ever helpful.
 They showed us how to grow corn in this region and introduced us to new and different crops...including pumpkins. They also gave us instructions on how to catch fish in the area, and of course the game...deer and wild turkey and pheasants...were abundant.
 Chief Massasoit was quite interested in us...I think a large part due to our guns and ammunition. There was another tribe who lived to the west, the Narragansett tribe, and they were enemies to Chief Massasoit and his tribe. Our guns and ammo could be beneficial in their fight against them.

 We had a good year in relation to crops and being able to store up some supplies for the upcoming winter. With our homes now established, we felt God had given us a "foothold" to at least survive the upcoming winter. There were a few among us that still lived in fear of all the terrible calamities that we had faced, and some chose to give up or steal the very food we were trying to build up for the winter. Yet, for the most part, we were in much better shape than the year previous.

 With our harvest in, it was decided to have a "Festival of Harvest", and have a joyous celebration for our first year's accomplishments. We really had no choice. There was no way back to England or the Netherlands. The Mayflower had left our harbor in April of this year, and was already back in port in England.
 So, for the 53 of us that remained, we did just that. We also thought it good to invite Squanto and his village to the Fall Festival, hoping some would come for dinner and perhaps talk and have fun learning each others cultures.
 As the day arrived and we began our celebration, we saw Chief Massosoit and his faithful band of warriors making there way here as well....over 90 of them. Although outnumbered almost 2 to 1, we had our guns, ammunition, as well as a few canons. When they arrived, we were able to establish a friendship...an alliance...simply because we needed one another. Chief Massosoit was needing our gun support, and we needed their expertise on growing crops and adjusting to the New World's way of life.
 We gave thanks to God and feasted...for over 3 days. Our supplies were used much, yet in the middle of all this celebration some of their warriors brought us 5 deer and harvest crops from their village.
 This was... a time of Thanksgiving....

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