Giving Thanks – from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras

For American families, Thanksgiving is synonymous with turkey, stuffing (or dressing if you prefer) and of course football. For the first time since I can remember, I did not watch any football on Thanksgiving (too busy) but I definitely had a “futbol” moment that has made me very thankful.

Futbol, or soccer to those living north of Mexico, is the passion of Honduras and every boy at Trinity spends his free moments playing on the concrete patio in the center of the school. Consequently, many balls end up stuck on the roof of the office that doubles as a backstop for errant shots. The afternoon before Thanksgiving, with the smell of turkey everywhere as Veronica prepared for the feast, one of the students asked me to go get a ball off the roof so the he could play. Never one to pass up the opportunity to climb anything, I proceeded to ascended from the terrace of the secondary school onto the roof of the office. As placed my foot on the roof, there was a crack and suddenly I was sitting on the roof, my foot dangling in space and the secretary looking up through the hole I just kicked through the ceiling. Apparently the roof has been bad for some time and several people have actually fallen all the way through. I only broke two panels so it was a quick fix but everyone was very thankful that I did not end up landing on the tile floor. I did get the ball though…

We have not had classes at Trinity since Wednesday to celebrate Thanksgiving and for the national elections that took place on Sunday. The students were still required to come in on Thursday for a half day of school. Even though it is not a holiday in Honduras, Veronica likes to celebrate Thanksgiving as a school because of its message and to show the students a side of American culture that isn't fast food and action movies. After an all-school Holy Eucharist, the kids hung out while half the teachers got everything ready for the big lunch. My first job was to help peel about 40 lbs. of boiled potatoes so we could mash them, using only my fingernails. I did not ask why they were not peeled before hand or where a peeler might be found; I just put my head down and started scratching. It took forever and I was thrilled when Veronica asked me to come with her to get my masher because the food processor was not producing the desired results. We also picked up carving knives. When I got into the kitchen, I saw four large turkeys and lots of kids sitting impatiently at long tables in the auditorium wondering when they were going to get fed. I washed my hands, grabbed to sharpest knife in the pile and went to work.

Luckily I have had plenty of training from my dear old dad but this was a little more quantity than the Pinkston household has ever had. I am not sure how Veronica managed to get four 20lbs + turkeys to La Ceiba(turkey is not a common food choice) but there wasn’t really time to ask questions. After removing all the limbs, I got into a good rhythm making big, thin slices of white meat. However, I realized that there was no way to make the dark meat look pretty and the kids probably wouldn’t care anyways. So I grabbed a paring knife, cut off any piece I could get a hold of and piled it on the tray. This went on for more than an hour nonstop. I cleaned every little piece of meat off the bird then moved on, the plates of meat disappearing as faster than I could replenish them. My back was turned to the auditorium so I never even got to see the kids eat but I guess they liked it. By the time I left the kitchen with my plate of meat, potatoes and stuffing (salad on Thanksgiving, not a chance), the only people left in the auditorium were the teachers and all the kids had gone home.

I promptly wolfed down my plate, washing it all down with about a half bottle of apple juice. My hands were so tired that they were shaking as I lifted my glass. It started pouring rain so I hung around for a bit, hoping it would let up. I hitched a ride home with the math teacher, who lives in the same barrio as I do. My feet still got wet crossing the river between the sidewalk and car but it certainly beat the alternative. I walked in the door at around 1pm, fell onto my leopard print bed, and did not wake up until 6 pm when Veronica called to tell me she would be picking me up in 10 minutes for Thanksgiving, round two. Veronica always invites people who don’t have any nearby family to join hers for the holiday. This was much more laid back family affair, with seven adults and six kids total. I got to carve their turkey too, but it was much smaller so it didn’t take much time. I just was happy to be able to sit down and enjoy it with everyone this time around.

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday because of the food, the family and the reflection it brings about. This year, I have plenty to be thankful for: the health and safety of my family and their unfailing support of me in all my pursuits; Veronica Flowers and Trinity Episcopal School for giving me the opportunity to connect with students and learn how to teach; Javier, Nelson (the organist), and all my soccer buddies who do their best to give me some semblance of a social life; and Mike and Betty, who have adopted me as their Honduran son and always provide an ear to my daily frustrations. Most of all, I am thankful for my family at St. James Episcopal Church. I would not be here if it weren’t for your generous support and prayers. Even on the toughest, worst days, I think back on the applause I received the last time I was with the St. James’ congregation. I feel like I have my own long distance cheering squad pushing me onward and that’s what I do. I am truly blessed and honored to be part of such a dynamic congregation. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.