Miss Becky's Blog

The Pilgrims and the First Thanksgiving

America was founded by men and women who came to these shores lifting eyes toward heaven.

In England four hundred years ago there lived a group of people we now call the Pilgrims. Their lives were not happy because they were not allowed to worship God the way they chose. When they tried to pray in their own way, they were thrown into prison or driven from their homes and jobs.

Finally, in 1620, they could bear it no longer.

Leaving all they loved behind, they boarded a small ship called the Mayflower and ventured out to sea. Perhaps they could practice their faith in that vast, far-off wilderness called America.

For two long hard months the Pilgrims crossed the stormy Atlantic Ocean. The Mayflower pitched and shook. Its beams groaned and its sides leaked. Men, women, and children grew ill. But at last they arrived in the New World.

They came ashore, fell on their knees, and thanked God for bringing them across the wide and furious waters. At once they began the business of founding their colony. First they built a large house for common use. Then they built smaller houses for each family. They named the village New Plymouth after the city in England from which they had set sail.

It was the heart of winter, and Plymouth Colony was in for a harsh, cruel beginning. The Pilgrims shivered in freezing winds and driving rains as they struggled to build their huts. The earth froze hard. Food was scarce - every night they wondered if there would be enough to eat the next day. And always they knew the Indians were watching. They heard their whoops and calls through the woods and

saw smoke rising from their fires.

Then came the sickness. Many of the Pilgrims grew

weak from lack of food and warmth. They lay in their beds, coughing and gasping for breath. Some-times only a handful of settlers were well enough to cook and care for all the sick. Half of the people died that long first winter. As the living buried their dead, they prayed and wondered if coming to America had not been a tragic mistake. But

still they, placed their faith in God.

Winter passed. The icy earth softened. One March day, as the settlers stared in wonder, a lone Indian strolled calmly into Plymouth, raised his hand, and

“Welcome!" In broken English he told the Pilgrims his name was Samoset. He had learned their lang-uage from English fishermen who had visited the shores of the New World. He told them that the Indians who lived nearby were called the Wampanoags and were ruled by a wise chief

named Massasoit.

A few days later Massasoit himself strode into Plymouth village with several of his braves. The Pilgrims spread a rug on the floor of an unfinished house and invited their visitors to sit. They ate and drank and talked together. They promised to live as neighbors and signed a treaty that kept the peace between the two peoples for many years.

Massasoit brought with him an Indian named

Squanto, who spoke English. The settlers were amazed to hear this man's story. He had once been kidnapped by a sea captain and taken to Europe to be sold as a slave. Making his way to London, he had lived several years in the Pilgrims' own homeland before sailing back to the New World with English

explorers.

It was Squanto who now stayed with the Pilgrims and helped them learn how to live in this strange, wild land. He showed them how to plant corn. He taught them how to fish, and catch eels in the rivers, and dig in the mud for clams. He taught them how to hunt for deer in the forests. He showed them which berries were good to eat and which ones would make them sick. If not for Squanto's wisdom and aid, the little Plymouth colony may well have vanished.

Summer came. In the warm weather the Pilgrims grew stronger. With stout hearts they went to work in their fields and gardens. God blessed the land with sunshine and showers. The men and women of Plymouth watched the crops push up through the soil and prayed, for they knew they could not make it through the next winter without a good harvest.

The growing season passed and the days grew shorter. Fruit ripened. The pumpkins swelled orange and round. Autumn came in a blaze of glory, dressing the forests in gold and red and brown. The Pilgrims gathered the harvest, stored their food, and prepared themselves for the long, cold months that lay ahead.

They had much to be thankful for. The corn had grown well. The rivers and woods teemed with fish and game. The little houses were finished and ready for winter. The settlers had recovered their health and strength, and they had all good things in plenty.

It was time to celebrate the harvest and thank God for the blessings He had bestowed upon them. The Pilgrims sent a message to the Indians, inviting them to join a feast. Then they set about preparing. The men went into the fields and forests to hunt ducks, geese, and turkeys. The women stood beside the fires kneading, slicing, and roasting. The settlers set up long tables outside and placed rough benches beside them.

King Massasoit arrived with ninety of his braves. They brought five deer, their gift to the feast. Then the Pilgrims and Indians shared the bounty of the land. They ate fish and wildfowl and venison. From the bay there were clams, scallops, and oysters. From the forests came nuts and berries, and from the gardens came carrots, turnips, and onions. They feasted on stewed pumpkin, corn cakes, and bowls of chowder.

They celebrated with games as well. The settlers and

Indians held shooting contests with both guns and bows. The young men challenged each other in foot races and wrestling matches. The Englishmen did jigs for the Indians, and the Indians in turn showed off their own dances.

For three days the feast continued. The Pilgrims knew well that more days of trial and hardship lay ahead. But for now, they rejoiced together over the gifts they had received. They thanked God for bringing them across the stormy ocean and seeing them through the long, harsh winter. They thanked Him for the bountiful fruits of their labor. They gave thanks for their Indian friends. And they gave

thanks for this new land, where they could worship as they pleased.

Every year we in America remember that long-ago feast called the First Thanksgiving. On the fourth Thursday of each November, we rejoice that friends and loved ones have gathered safely together. We celebrate the fruits of our labor. We recall that throughout our nation's past, our ancestors risked their lives so we might be free. We bow our heads in thanks for all the bounty of this land and for the many blessings we have received.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ever since this First American Thanksgiving celebration and feast, Americans would celebrate something like this during the fall. In different states it was observed at different times.

Then, on October 3, 1863, Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States, signed a Proclamation, asking the American people to observe the last Thursday of November as a day of thanksgiving for the victories and blessings of the year.

The Proclamation begins: “The year that is drawing toward its close has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added . . .

“In the midst of a civil war of unequal magnitude and severity . . . peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed everywhere, except in the theater of military conflict.”

So from this time forward Americans have celebrated THANKSGIVING on the last Thursday of November (now the fourth Thursday of November). Family members and friends gather together to enjoy each other and give thanks to God for all the things he has blessed them with.