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In regards to the Pilgrims and Indians: maybe you haven't noticed, but it's Thanksgivingtime. So, there's pictures of these caricatures all around. But I am both Pilgrim and Indian. I am, like, 1/16 Native American (she said, tongue-in-cheek, because that's what everyone says). But I am. I remember being about 5 years old and finding a whittled, stone arrowhead, about an inch and a half long, in my mom's bedroom vanity. She said her dad had found it in a field by their rural Georgia home. Fascinating. And so I found out that my Mom's Mom's Dad was some part of the Blackfoot tribe, and I have inherited the characteristic facial profile. I like to think that I am part of a nation of people who lived on this land for generations. These people have a home, they have roots, they know who they are. And for me, there is a deep sense of ancient understanding, and a love of nature and admiration for the way it points to the Creator. But, I'm still searching. I'm not fixed, I'm not done, I'm not at rest, not at ease. I long and wait and pray for a day when I can breathe easy, knowing myself, knowing my God, knowing I am where I should be. And until then, I journey. Apparently, I'm on a Pilgrimage to a Holy land, but my path is covered with
