a thanksgiving for the soul

It’s a little strange to think I haven’t been in the USA for a major holiday since 2006. Yet every one that I have spent here in Nicaragua has been memorable in its own way…and this past Thanksgiving was no different.

It all started with the simple idea that maybe the North American college students I work with here would enjoy having a little taste of home even as they finish out their semester program with us. I’ve never “hosted” Thanksgiving dinner before (the most I’ve ever contributed is a green bean casserole or sweet potato dish or assistance to the turkey preparation), but I felt like it would be fun, and I was up for a cooking challenge.

Thanks to the wonders of globalization, I was able to buy all the traditional fixin’s, minus the sweet potatoes and turnip. All of the girls came into Managua Thursday afternoon, and with a little teamwork (and an extra dose of baking genius from co-chef Leah) we baked two pumpkin pies, an apple pie, stuffing, and prepared the potatoes that night.

I hit the pillow pretty exhausted that evening, but was up before the crack of dawn Friday, thanks to some early morning fireworks in my neighborhood plus a blaring stereo playing music in homenage to Mary (the annual celebration of the Purisima is this week). While the girls slept, I concocted a rub for the turkey…a little salt, pepper, sage, thyme, lemongrass and butter smothered liberally over the outside of the defrosted bird, followed by a little apple juice, which I also put (diluted) in the bottom of the pan.

The bird safely in my tiny gas oven (the door barely shut), I threw on my running clothes and headed out to take advantage of the cool morning air. There was no sign of the noisy neighbors or any street procession like I expected. Instead, just like always, I passed women sweeping their patios, children waiting at bus stops with older siblings, and a few other walkers.

Refreshed and much more awake, I returned to the house where most everyone was still asleep except for Leah, who had gotten up early to make caramel dip (which turned out awesome, btw). After some coffee and cornflakes, I busied myself with the mashed potatoes, broccoli and corn, while Leah took care of the gravy.

It was a really fun morning, and as I stood alone in the kitchen making the final preparations, I heard the laughter wafting in from the living room, and my heart smiled as I remembered the joy of having a full house on this special day. (The last time I can remember a *really* full house on Thanksgiving was before my family moved to Texas, when we spent the holiday with my mom’s family in Boston.)

In addition to the Dordt college students, we also wound up having two other special guests—another student (another Pamela, believe it or not) from Wheaton who had been doing an internship at the Nehemiah Center this semester—and Sidney, a Nicaraguan friend from church who teaches English at a local Christian academy.

Having never prepared an entire Thanksgiving meal mostly myself (and mostly without established recipes—just my own creativity and intuition), I was unsure how everything was going to turn out (especially those crazy pie crusts…). But after we said grace and all sat down to eat on my porch, I looked around and saw a circle of contented faces around me enjoying this special meal…and I felt pure joy….the joy that only comes from giving.

And as I think back on that moment, my soul declares with the psalmist, “Truly, my cup runneth over.”

Happy (belated) Thanksgiving, everyone.