I am not an accomplished "blogger." It is not hard to figure this out since the last time I posted anything is over two years ago. Putting my thoughts on paper is not how I commonly function. Life keeps moving on whether we want it to or not. The death of a close relative has reminded me that family is precious . . . and that putting off until tomorrow may be too late. I think about the conversations that Rebecca and I had about family and our remembrances of them. Rebecca was able to fill in missing "pages" about older relatives that I never knew well. Now Rebecca has died . . . and one more source of information to the past has slipped away.
I find that my roots are ever more important to me. I guess I wish that I had paid more attention to conversations among my parents and my aunts & uncles--particularly as they related to generations that I never met nor knew. So much of family history is "oral tradition." Dad took me to a cemetery and told me that one of my ancesters fought in the Revolutionary War and was buried in that cemetery. I doubt that I could find the grave now--I'm not sure that Dad actually found it, but rather, pointed to the general location that he had been told about by his mother (it was one of my paternal grandmother's relatives). My material grandfather took me to a small country cemetery to point out his relatives' graves so someone would "remember."
I hope that I am doing the same for my children . . . pointing out the "stepping stones" to the past--to their heritage. I find my faith is the same sort of issue. I value my roots in a small country church more and more. I would like to think that my faith is more "enlightened" than what I initially picked up in that small church, and yet, I value the depth of the people's faith. I value my roots.
