Living in a new country can feel lonely. There’s the big stuff, sure (like living thousands of miles from many people that you love), but there’s the small stuff, too (like the lack of Yorkshire pudding).
A medium thing is navigating unfamiliar holidays. One the one hand, they don’t really feel like yours, and on the other you don’t really have anyone to celebrate them with, even if you wanted to. Here: the Fourth of July, Labor Day and (of course) Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving is big. It’a big enough that you feel left out if you don’t celebrate it. Big enough that you want to be with people you care about. Big enough that you feel more lonely than ever.
When we lived in New York, we didn’t know anyone, especially for our first Thanksgiving. We celebrated (sort of), but I don’t think that we really knew what we were celebrating. Certainly not the holiday’s history, and it wasn’t an excuse to get family and friends together.
When we moved to California, a couple of things happened: we moved closer to some of my wife’s family, and we started to make real friends. This year was the first where Thanksgiving didn’t feel like some alien concept, and it’s down to the kindness of those folks.
The family had invited us to join them for a small gathering in Petaluma. A gathering to break bread, share stories, and simply spend time together. We were thankful to be there, and they seemed thankful for our presence. A small moment, but a big deal.
Whilst we were getting ready, a new friend sent me a message: if we didn’t have plans, she said, we were welcome to join them. A short message—really, just a few words—but it meant everything to me. My heart felt so full, and I suddenly felt a lot less lonely.
These gestures reveal so much more than it might first appear. They reveal that we’ve surrounded ourselves with kind, loving people who care about us. They reveal that we ourselves, perhaps, might be kind enough people that our presence is at least a little enjoyable.
The gestures might have felt small for the people making them. They’re wonderful enough humans that it likely came naturally to them. To me, though, they’re huge. They make me feel welcome, and loved. They make me feel at home in a way that I didn’t before.
Small gestures can feel enormous. Little big gestures.