The last time I got to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family was 3 years ago.  Since then they have all moved to Chicago while I moved half way across the world to Thailand.  Thanksgiving used to be "my" holiday where I would prepare all the food - turkey, stuffing, pumpkin pie, garlic mashed potatoes and gravy, candied yams (my mouth is watering!).  After 4-5 hours of cooking, we would sit around the table - my mom, my sister Cindy, my brother-in-law Bruce and my two nieces Sammy and Rachel - and say what we're thankful for while holding hands (I know, cheesy.  But hey, it's a fond memory. ) 

Though I miss my family a lot, I'm truly grateful for the "Xealot family" as well.  Mrs. Lee has graciously offered to prepare us a real American Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow (Friday, since Thai people don't celebrate Thanksgiving and today's just a regular day), so we're all looking forward to feasting together.  For old time's sake, I'm preparing some stuffing right now (Thanks Michele for bringing a box of Mrs. Cubbison's - my favorite!  But alas, no celery to be found here...).  But more than the food itself, I'm looking forward to celebrating Thanksgiving with people who have become so dear to me, like a real family.  So what am I thankful for this year?  My Xealot family, of course!  Happy Thanksgiving! 

I've been thinking a lot about pain lately.  Pain from disappointments, pain from difficult or broken relationships, pain from losses.  This world, this life is full of pain, and to live means to experience pain.  We can't dream without the possibility that the dream will become shattered.  We can't love without the possibility that our love will be rejected.  We can't hold on to someone without the possibility that he or she will let go or be taken away.  If there's going to be any meaning in anything that we do, there has to be pain.

One of my best friends from California came to visit me in Thailand this past week.  We had so much fun just talking, eating, shopping and exploring the city together.  But the past couple of nights, we were also able to share about our losses - her mom, who passed away from stroke 5 months ago, and my dad, who passed away from cancer about 9 years ago.  It had been a while since I talked about my dad to someone, for people just don't talk about death in everyday conversation.  But having gone through a similar experience, my friend and I were able to share, understand and even feel each other's pain and comfort one another through tears.  The sorrow, the regrets - we were able to empathize completely.

As I feel my own pain, and as I hear about the pains of those around me (both here and back at home), I realize that we are to worship God in our pain.  Just as God did not take away Paul's thorn in his flesh, just as Christ suffered the most horrific death on the cross, we are not to run away from pain but worship God in the midst of it.  Why?  Because we can truly experience God when we've died to ourselves.  When Job was first struck with disaster after disaster, he cried out to God wondering why He was allowing him to suffer so much.  But when God finally speaks (and He never gives an answer to Job), Job says, "My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you."  Before, Job had only known about God, but through his pain and suffering he saw God.  I think that's the beauty of pain, as visceral as it may be - that we can see and experience God when we are suffering. 

I'm not saying that we should intentionally seek pain.  I believe that pain will find its way to us without our help.  I'm not saying we should welcome pain with joy either, for who in their sound mind really enjoys suffering?  But we shouldn't be too surprised or angry when it does come, for we know that through the pain, we can enter into even a deeper level of fellowship with God.

"I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death."  (Philippians 3:10)