Squanto and the Miracle of Thanksgivingby Eric Metaxas
Experience the true story from American history about the spiritual roots and historical beginnings of Thanksgiving. This entertaining and historical story shows that the actual hero of Thanksgiving was neither white nor Indian but God.See more details below
Experience the true story from American history about the spiritual roots and historical beginnings of Thanksgiving. This entertaining and historical story shows that the actual hero of Thanksgiving was neither white nor Indian but God.
- Nelson, Thomas, Inc.
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- THOMAS NELSON
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- 13 MB
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- Age Range:
- 6 - 9 Years
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SQUANTO and the Miracle of Thanksgiving
By Eric Metaxas
Thomas NelsonCopyright © 1999 Eric Metaxas
All right reserved.
Chapter OneEvery once in a great while, the hand of God is easy to see, and for a brief moment, fairy tales and history are the same thing. This story is about one of those times.
It was in the year of our Lord 1608. Few white men had ever seen North America. But everywhere there were various tribes of natives, some who were friendly and trusting, others who were fierce and cruel.
On the chilly, gray coast of what is today called Massachusetts, there lived a tribe called the Patuxets, who were as friendly and trusting as any that lived. One of them, a boy of about twelve, was called Tisquantum, or Squanto.
One day while Squanto and some other Patuxet braves were hunting for lobsters along the shore, they saw a giant vessel. It was the size of a hundred canoes! The men aboard it wore strange clothing and had hair on their faces like fur!
But Squanto was not frightened. He had heard of such men. "These are the men who come every few years from the world across the water," Squanto told his friends. "They have come to trade with us."
Squanto knew that they often brought bright beads, glinting knives, ax heads, and iron pots to exchange for animal pelts and furs. "Let's see what they have brought!" Squanto said. And he and his companions excitedly raced down to the water.
At first the men seemed friendly to the young braves and offered them food. But then, without warning, the men attacked! They grabbed the trusting Patuxets and threw them to the ground, tying stiff ropes around their wrists and feet. Squanto had never been so frightened! The men dragged the braves to their giant ship and threw them into the dark hold beneath the ship's deck, laughing all the while. Then they locked the hatch above.
Squanto shivered in the darkness. The ropes hurt his wrists and ankles. The ship began to move, and Squanto did not know where he was going, or indeed, if he would ever see sunlight again. Why had these men done this? Squanto listened to the water lapping against the hull of the ship. Somehow he knew that he was leaving the world of his childhood forever.
Days passed, and then weeks. They had traveled for so long that it seemed to Squanto they must now be on the other side of the sky, behind the moon and sun and stars. Where were they going?
Then one day the ship dropped anchor. At long last they had come to land. The hatch was opened, and Squanto and his fellow captives were brought ashore. The glaring sun burned their eyes; the air was dry and hot; and everything was dusty from the great heat. Squanto did not know it yet, but he was now in the country of Spain, in a city called Málaga.
One of the men from the ship roughly herded Squanto and the other braves toward a crowd of people on the dock. One by one, the braves were forced to stand before the jeering crowd. They were being sold as slaves! Squanto watched his companions as each one was sold and taken away forever.
Excerpted from SQUANTO and the Miracle of Thanksgiving by Eric Metaxas Copyright © 1999 by Eric Metaxas. Excerpted by permission of Thomas Nelson. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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