I love the Holiday season and everything that goes with it – the food, the decorations, the hustle and bustle, and special moments shared with family and friends. Over the years certain things have become tradition, like starting the season off with theThanksgiving parade downtown. Cool weather, hot chocolate, and bundles of blanketed friends create just the right mood for reflecting on all that we have to be thankful for. I usually pile a heaping helping of family dinner on top of the parade, and garnish it by baking Christmas Cookies with the kids and watching "Elf" after dessert. It just wouldn't be Thanksgiving without these special moments that I have come to cherish and look forward to each year.
It just wouldn't be Thanksgiving . . .
. . . But it was . . . Sort of . . .
This year I spent "Thanksgiving" in Cape Town South Africa. Thanksgiving is not a South African holiday, so there is no celebration, no parade, no big turkey dinner, no going around the table stating what you're thankful for. None-the-less, this Thanksgiving day will always hold a special place in my heart for it taught me more about being thankful than most other days this year.
The bright South African sun woke me early on Thursday morning. I rolled out of bed, grabbed a cup of coffee and headed with my team out to Tembaletu. Tembaletu is the only Xhosa-speaking school for kids with disabilities in the Western Cape. Most kids who attend this school live in very difficult circumstances, come from poverty level homes, and have to travel great distances to get there. But as we came walking timidly into the school, there they were, wheeling, hobbling, and slinking through the hallways.
They recognized us immediately as visitors and greeted us as if we were actually celebrities. The biggest, most cheerful smiles you could ever ask for, high fives, handshakes, hugs, and "Hello"s all made us feel welcome, not to mention a little sheepish for once again doubting our ability to work with kids who have disabilities. We met with the principal who showed us to our "office" for the day. Because the kids have such severe physical disabilities they really need help out on the playground – getting in and out of wheelchairs, moving around on the equipment, climbing, swinging, and playing. I chose the sandbox. I sat down. I waited.
Within 5 minutes kids were crawling around everywhere. I knew I was in trouble immediately. I'm a sucker for big smiles and lively giggles, which these kids had in abundance. They were happy, precious, little bundles of energy and they taught me a beautiful lesson. You see, I was feeling a little sorry for myself because it was Thanksgiving and I wasn't at home in my parents warm house, with my family around, stuffing myself with turkey. Instead, I was in Africa – with people I didn't know – preparing to eat yet another peanut butter and jelly sandwich. But as we began building sandcastles, digging holes, baking cakes, and burying each other's feet in the sand, I realized it didn't matter. I have so much to be thankful for and so often I take it all for granted. These kids probably don't have more than 3 changes of clothes, never eat turkey, and deal with physical disabilities on a daily basis. Yet, they are overflowing with joy.
At that moment I was perfectly happy and content to be right where I was – in a sandbox in Africa, playing with makeshift toys, letting the kids fill the holes in my jeans with sand, laughing with them, hugging them, and letting them know how thankful I was to spend the day with them. They stole my heart, they taught me a lesson, and Thanksgiving will no longer be the same without them.
