I’m proud of my family name. Both my paternal and maternal names that make up, well, me. While my ancestors were not perfect by any means I always enjoy encountering a family name in a history book. It doesn’t happen often but occasionally with local history books I do bump into an ancestor. It got me thinking, what would it be like to share a family name with a notorious figure from history?
Continue readingfamily history
Broken Table and Broken Dreams
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.
General Conference thoughts: “Let This House Be Built unto My Name”
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.
Continue readingGrandpa’s Gift
The unseen grandpa,
gone many years before,
stands next to the crib
and smiles at the babe
sleeping with a purring snore. Continue reading
By the time she was my age…
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
Two Graves
There are two graves
that sit on a hill
overlooking the land
as if a silent sentinel. Continue reading
General Conference thoughts: Family History Work: Sealing and Healing
by Elder Dale G. Renlund
It’s all about family. In the end, it’s all about family, what else matters? Continue reading
The Cowboy and the Kid
The cowboy might have been
a tough ranch hand
alone most days
set in his ways
a nomad roaming the land. Continue reading
Mary’s Grave
There is a place
not too far away
that is hidden
to the human eye
but where the antelope play. Continue reading
The Quest for Mary
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
