Susan J. Matt’s new book, Homesickness: An American History, coincides very nicely with my memory of tasting the Pilgrims’ own yearning for home even as they were on the verge of their Atlantic voyage:
Early in September of 1985 I joined a group of Mayflower descendants touring England. We visited Dartmouth on the south coast to see a monument to the American Pilgrims who were delayed at Dartmouth for repairs to their ship, the Speedwell. The weather was glorious with whispering breezes and brilliant sunshine, ideal for the late summer season. We stood by the monument at the edge of the harbor surrounded by high intensely green hills dotted with white sheep with black noses. Townspeople strolled along the walkways enjoying the gentle weather, soon to be chilled by autumn winds.
Unexpectedly, I found myself feeling a strange emotion, which seemed to be a keen appreciation of the scene, yet tinged with profound sadness. What had come over me?
I had nothing to feel sad about. The tour so far had been an adventure, including my brief separation from my group at Windsor Castle before I was “found” by my anxious busload of fellow tourists. I had no word for this disturbing emotion.
Then as I stood absorbing this tranquil scene, the word “nostalgia” stole into my mind. Not being English, I could not account for that word. I was an American tourist enjoying the tranquil English landscape and its charming natives, not someone visiting familiar ground from the past.
Then gradually the significance of the word dawned on me. I was feeling the deep nostalgia the Pilgrims felt as they lingered at Dartmouth before crossing the vast Atlantic to a terrifying new world. The Pilgrims had always yearned to return to their homeland. To preserve their English heritage, they had chosen to accept help from English adventurers rather than generous Dutch sponsors who offered them more favorable terms. Now while they awaited still more repairs to their ship, they were touched by these incandescent days at home just as they must leave it forever. For they had no illusions about returning to England. To cross three thousand miles of ocean to a stark wilderness at the beginning of winter offered little hope of return to the homeland they loved.
This was a gift to me, to feel so keenly the emotions these colonists suffered. Later, while writing One Candle’s Light I recalled this poignant, piercing emotion vividly. It was a prophetic insight to the courageous mission these pilgrims undertook in obedience to their God.