Today was feast day at Santo Domingo Pueblo (Native American Reservation). My friend and I went to see hundreds of Native Americans from toddlers to elders perform sacred corn dances in the dusty town square to rhythmic chants, rattles and drumbeats. With painted bodies and colorful headdresses, bells and fur dangling from their belts, they danced in leather moccasins for hours in 90 degree heat stopping for water and a short rest.
These dances are ritual expressions of prayer to give thanks for the Creator’s blessings and to every form of life that sacrifices itself to give us life. One of the blessings of Feast Day is to be invited into a Native American home and to receive a meal at their table. As my friend and I walked down the dirt path between the adobe dwellings, a girl came over and invited us into her home. We graciously accepted and found ourselves at a table with four generations of the family that lives in that tiny house, but we were the only ones eating. From chili to squash stew to tortillas to chicken to hot dogs to potato salad to dessert of graham crackers, chocolate pudding and Cool Whip, we ate in the stifling heat thanking our hosts for their delicious food.
My friend and I had read that you are supposed to bring a gift for your hosts after the meal. As we got up to leave, I handed the grandmother a packet of note cards and her face dropped. “We should not accept gifts. On this day of celebration, we just give.” Oh no! What to do now? I was sure that we shouldn’t take the gift back. After a few uncomfortable seconds, she accepted the gift and we promised to visit them again. Whew! That was a difficult call!
What an honor to be chosen and blessed by this family, and for you and your friend to bless them in return.
So cool!