family history

Broken Table and Broken Dreams

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I finally conceded I needed to give the table away. It is a big (by today’s standards) kitchen table probably built in the 1940’s. All wood, it is heavy and cumbersome. Not really designed for today’s compact modern world. But for me giving it away was a difficult decision because it represented a dream unfulfilled. Although I have lived long enough to know the importance of plan B’s in my life, giving up on a long held dream is not an easy thing to do. I took comfort in the fact that the table not only represented a plan B in my life, but it must have also been similar for my grandma nearly 55 years earlier. We are connected with this broken table and broken dreams. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

Table with the three leaves leaning against the wall
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General Conference thoughts: “Let This House Be Built unto My Name”

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What is a house for? I visited Mesa Verde in southern Colorado and learned about that area’s Native Americans and their move to houses. I was surprised humans learned how to dwell in houses. It seems like an instinctual process to build a shelter. But apparently, it’s not. At least, not for some. Once this particular group of people moved to shelters they left some pretty hardy dwellings behind.

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By the time she was my age…

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Recently, I visited my aunt and looked through some photos. She has pictures I have never seen before of my grandparents and my dad when he was a boy.  As I looked at a certain picture of my grandma I realized she was about the same age as I am now.  When I was younger, I looked a lot like her but looking at a picture of her the same age as I am now I can see that resemblance has faded.  My dad assures me though that I have many of her mannerisms and still carry myself in a similar fashion.  That is comforting because I have always enjoyed having that connection with her even though I don’t remember her very well.  She died when I was 12 but for the last three years of her life she was in a nursing home and her body became merely a shell of the vibrant woman she once was.  But when I saw that picture of her of when she was close to my age I compared our lives and the different roads we have both taken to get to this age. Continue reading →

The Quest for Mary

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Sometimes you just have to believe that maybe you are being guided on a certain path for an unknown reason. Maybe the only reason is to bring a smile to your lips and warm your heart. But sometimes you just have to think maybe, just maybe, this series of events is more than a coincidence. Sometimes it’s bigger than you. Sometimes. Here is one of those times for me. Continue reading →

In Mom’s Steps

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“Am I like grandma?” I used to ask my mom ad nauseam. “Tell me about grandma.” My grandma T died before any of her grandchildren were born and I missed having a grandma. Without any consideration for my mom having to bring up memories about her beloved mother I used to beg her to tell me about grandma T. In my defense, I didn’t understand and couldn’t comprehend how sometimes talking about the deceased can be a painful experience. That was a lesson I could only learn by unfortunate experience. So when I was young, I pleaded for information about this absent woman whose blood ran through my veins. I guess I yearn for connections and I needed to know if grandma would have liked her granddaughter. In a way, I am still searching for connections. Continue reading →