You might remember the story of Squanto, the Wampanoag Indian who, circa 1608, was captured by a Captain Hunt and sold into slavery in Spain. He was purchased by a well-meaning monk who taught him the basics of the Christian faith. Squanto eventually made his way to England and worked for a John Slaney who was sympathetic to him and promised that he would do all he could to see that Squanto made his way back home to Massachusetts. That promise was kept and, in 1619, over ten years after his kidnapping, Squanto, now an English-speaker, was back in Plymouth, Massachusetts, only to learn that all his loved ones and companions had died of an epidemic.

Accounts vary, but all agree on the major events: from America to Europe and back to America to find himself desolate.

A year later, the Pilgrims landed, knowing no one in that “desolate wilderness,” and over half of them perished that winter. Then they met Squanto. Here is how William Bradford, the long-time governor wrote about Squanto in the classic, Of Plymouth Plantation (he always wrote in the third person): “…but Squanto continued with them and was their interpreter and was a special instrument sent of God for their good beyond their expectation. He directed them how to set their corn, where to take fish, and to procure other commodities, and was also their pilot to bring them to unknown places for their profit, and never left them till he died.”

Squanto was at that first Thanksgiving in 1621. Both he and the Pilgrims expressed their thankfulness to God for His bountiful mercies. How is this possible in the face of so much desolation and death? Because God is good. We only see part, but He knows the end from the beginning of a story whose chapters are still being uncovered for us. Catastrophic events are only part of that story. In similar fashion Martin Rinckart could write the wondrous Now Thank We All Our God within the context of The Thirty Years’ War and pestilence which carried away thousands of his fellow citizens and parishioners, including his own beloved wife.

Bradford was at Squanto’s side as he lay dying. Squanto “desired the Governor to pray for him, that he might go to the Englishmen’s God in heaven.” He asked that his possessions be given to his Pilgrim friends “as remembrances of his love.” The Pilgrims were deeply affected by this “great loss,” yet they remained a people characterized by thankfulness to God.

I appreciate living in a land where Thanksgiving is a national holiday. We used to observe it in the mining camp in El Pao, and it was observed in American camps and facilities all over the world as I was growing up. This is a quintessentially American observance. 

And it’s a good observance, because, rightly observed, it can compel us to pause and consider His blessings, which are beyond number. 

Lillie and I think of men and women who impacted our lives when we were children in Puerto Rico and Venezuela, respectively. We are thankful for the friendships that our parents cultivated and are amazed, and deeply moved, when we consider that those friendships survived the death of some of our parents, even to this day. 

We are grateful for childhood friends who are still faithful friends. What a treasure!

We are thankful for the members of our extended families. Each of you have had an influence on us and we thank you, dear uncles, cousins, loved ones.

We are thankful for our grandparents. I was fortunate to have met Lillie’s maternal great-grandparents and her grandparents (both sets), and my maternal grandmother. What men and women of character they were! But I am also grateful for my father’s patiently telling me (and re-telling, because I always wanted to hear more!) about his father and mother, my paternal grandparents. Even though I never met them, I feel like I know them and often in life have asked myself how my grandfather or my grandmother would react or think about certain situations in life. 

I also met my father’s last living uncle, having visited him in a retirement home in Arizona in 1980 shortly before his passing away. The memory of that short visit still possesses the power to move me deeply. He was quite a man.

We are grateful for the small churches we knew in Latin America. For the humble, unassuming, yet hearty and steadfast brethren who loved us. Many of them said little, but their lives said much! I recall at least two of them who were rescued by a Loving God from lives of dissipation. They said little, but their renewed characters and lives have affect me increasingly as the years go by.

We are most thankful for our parents, who have been careful to encourage us to appreciate what has gone before. Thanks to them, we deeply appreciate you, our aunts, uncles, and cousins, and friends. Our fathers and mothers would be the first to deny perfection in anything, but if we could attain a good measure of their character, we would do well indeed!

Each of you whose paths have crossed ours, are not a “happenstance” to us, nor we to you. Our Good Lord sees to it that all has a purpose which continues to work itself out for our good and His glory.

As we thank Him, we also thank you for your kindness and love and care which in many cases have been a constant through the years.

May you have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

Psalm 100

Now thank we all our God, 
with heart and hands and voices,
Who wondrous things has done, 
in Whom this world rejoices;
Who from our mothers’ arms 
has blessed us on our way
With countless gifts of love,
and still is ours today.
First stanza of the hymn Now Thank We All Our God by Martin Rinckart