Tonight is one of those nights in which my love for life fills my heart in wave upon wave of gratitude. It is nights such as this one that in pausing to reflect upon the craziness of the everyday grind, I can revel in the simple grace of putting aside pursuits of the future to enjoy the present moment. This moment. Right now. To just "be." To breathe, smile and reconnect and reflect upon our journeys with ourselves and each other.
A year ago I spent Thanksgiving in Amman, Jordan. I had stayed home from classes that day because I was incredibly ill, toting a 101 degree fever and muscle aches. My host family didn't even come in to check on me. Because of this, my mood fluctuated radically between anger driven mostly by my helplessness, and sadness spurred by a desire for my mother to bustle in and start fussing over me. I felt absolutely alone, and absolutely miserable. Everytime I'd be awake long enough for these feelings to begin seeping in, I'd quickly roll over and smush a pillow over my head to bury such feelings in distant fever-ridden dreams. Of course, the harder I pressed the soft pillow against my ears, it seemed the more they would ring...
...Except the ringing in my head turned out to be insistent ringing of my cell phone. My neighborhood girls, calling me during the late afternoon Amman traffic jam, while piled into the backseat of a taxi, gave happy shrieks into the phone that made me wince. "Don't forget Karina, you promised to bring that ancient five month old bag of instant Idaho spuds for us to whip up!" Claire begged playfully. "Rachael is scrounging around Carrefour for sliced turkey, and Laura even found some canned cranberry sauce! This is going to be a perfect Thanksgiving dinner!"
"That's great." I mumbled. "Freakin' mumtaaz."
"Seriously dude, it's going to be awesome!" Becca took her turn yelling into the phone. I could imagine Rachael, Laura, and Erin grinning and nodding their heads excitedly in solidarity. Their Arab taxi driver must think of his four American passengers were shwei crazy.
"Look girls, I'm really sick," I admitted. "No promises I'll be able to make it tonight." This news was met with cold rejection.
"No, Karina you're coming even if we have to drag you out of bed. We'll see you at 6pm, my place," Clair retorted. Then as if to soften the toughness of her stance, they all screamed, "We love you khteerrrrr, bye!!!" and hung up. A small smile had replaced the scowl on my face. Maybe this is what I needed after all.
I wobbled into Claire's host-family's house a few hours later. A small table piled high with goodies met my eyes. Sliced turkey, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, yams with kosher marshmellows...even some stuffing. The highlight of the night though may have been Claire's freshly baked pecan pie, my favorite.
Of course, what made Thanksgiving in Amman a Thanksgiving that I'll remember for a long time wasn't so much about the food (although it did help to relieve some of the nostalgia). It was about the amazing women I got to share it with. We were all thousands of miles away from our families in the USA, but we had made a family of each other.
And so this Thanksgiving, as I find myself back in the States, but again surrounded by people that I love, I just feel so incredibly lucky. From being happily welcomed into Peter's family gathering in Tacoma (which included poker, wine, touch football games, and lots of hugs), to reuniting with my Mom and Pop and my various sets of adopted "relatives," I see how families, in whatever form they may come, learn to love each other in spite of themselves. In spite of our struggles. In spite of our flaws. In spite of any stubbornness to prove one's independence and individuality. If anything, coming home from my time abroad has taught me to be more grateful for these unquestioned, nonnegotiable networks of support. We know that the people we try the hardest to push away, will always take us back.
And thus, there's so much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving, in spite of ourselves.
A year ago I spent Thanksgiving in Amman, Jordan. I had stayed home from classes that day because I was incredibly ill, toting a 101 degree fever and muscle aches. My host family didn't even come in to check on me. Because of this, my mood fluctuated radically between anger driven mostly by my helplessness, and sadness spurred by a desire for my mother to bustle in and start fussing over me. I felt absolutely alone, and absolutely miserable. Everytime I'd be awake long enough for these feelings to begin seeping in, I'd quickly roll over and smush a pillow over my head to bury such feelings in distant fever-ridden dreams. Of course, the harder I pressed the soft pillow against my ears, it seemed the more they would ring...
...Except the ringing in my head turned out to be insistent ringing of my cell phone. My neighborhood girls, calling me during the late afternoon Amman traffic jam, while piled into the backseat of a taxi, gave happy shrieks into the phone that made me wince. "Don't forget Karina, you promised to bring that ancient five month old bag of instant Idaho spuds for us to whip up!" Claire begged playfully. "Rachael is scrounging around Carrefour for sliced turkey, and Laura even found some canned cranberry sauce! This is going to be a perfect Thanksgiving dinner!"
"That's great." I mumbled. "Freakin' mumtaaz."
"Seriously dude, it's going to be awesome!" Becca took her turn yelling into the phone. I could imagine Rachael, Laura, and Erin grinning and nodding their heads excitedly in solidarity. Their Arab taxi driver must think of his four American passengers were shwei crazy.
"Look girls, I'm really sick," I admitted. "No promises I'll be able to make it tonight." This news was met with cold rejection.
"No, Karina you're coming even if we have to drag you out of bed. We'll see you at 6pm, my place," Clair retorted. Then as if to soften the toughness of her stance, they all screamed, "We love you khteerrrrr, bye!!!" and hung up. A small smile had replaced the scowl on my face. Maybe this is what I needed after all.
I wobbled into Claire's host-family's house a few hours later. A small table piled high with goodies met my eyes. Sliced turkey, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, yams with kosher marshmellows...even some stuffing. The highlight of the night though may have been Claire's freshly baked pecan pie, my favorite.
Of course, what made Thanksgiving in Amman a Thanksgiving that I'll remember for a long time wasn't so much about the food (although it did help to relieve some of the nostalgia). It was about the amazing women I got to share it with. We were all thousands of miles away from our families in the USA, but we had made a family of each other.
And so this Thanksgiving, as I find myself back in the States, but again surrounded by people that I love, I just feel so incredibly lucky. From being happily welcomed into Peter's family gathering in Tacoma (which included poker, wine, touch football games, and lots of hugs), to reuniting with my Mom and Pop and my various sets of adopted "relatives," I see how families, in whatever form they may come, learn to love each other in spite of themselves. In spite of our struggles. In spite of our flaws. In spite of any stubbornness to prove one's independence and individuality. If anything, coming home from my time abroad has taught me to be more grateful for these unquestioned, nonnegotiable networks of support. We know that the people we try the hardest to push away, will always take us back.
And thus, there's so much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving, in spite of ourselves.
