Life is either a daring adventure...or it is nothing.
Helen Keller

Great Great Grandma Sophronia's Bible.....

This was my Great Great Grandma Sophronia's Bible. It is a treasure to me, with its torn and weathered pages and broken binding. It brings me great hope. My mother's family held a common faith of serious teachings in the 1800's. Sanctification, Hell's threats and also heaven's great promises. I found poems in the front of her Bible that gave me a glimpse into her thoughts. There was even an advertisement for Bromo's Laxatives, that was guaranteed to cure a cold (?) in 24 hours. I yearn to know more about her life.The Psalms were read the most it seems. I cannot imagine the life she lived during the 1800's in Nebaska. She passed away in 1905, leaving at least 90 years of life on earth behind her. She found her comfort in this book, it seemed that she treasured the hope of life after death the most. She had many children, stayed faithful in marriage, lived life without luxury or financial security, and it gives me peace in knowing that faith has been strong in my family since the days of the Pilgrim's crossing to America and even before that. God's word helped her survive all that life brought. I know that there were tragedies and anguish, secrets unspeakable, and joys of life . Nothing else remains of her life here. How do I reconcile the fact that her family and generations to come were inflicted with mental illness, strict and frankly what I find to be odd religious teachings? I recognize that no matter what, God's word still stands, and regardless of sin and sorrow, it holds the answers for all that comes to us. Peace, redemption, grace and hope. May my Bible be found in such shape when future generations discover its contents. I pray that this book continues to help break the chains that have bound us.

Where Do I Start?

Today I started cleaning out my parent's house. On the outside, the house looks beautiful. On the inside, the home was jarring to me as I walked through the neat and clean home and began to look in closets. So many things we hide away. Boxes of memories, painful to find, some bittersweet, some bringing laughter. Just like the lives.that represented them A box of my childhood accomplishments, a box of mean spirited correspondence, dolls from 4 generations of women who struggled to find solace. 50 years of Christmas decorations. Newspapers, the last one my Grandfather was holding when he had his stroke, the assasination of JFK, RFK, but no MLK, obituaries, strange human interest stories from years ago, Nixon's resignation, an announcement of a scholarship I had won in college, stories with quotes in them my brother had made to the press. So much bereft of emotion. Accomplishments? They were so proud. Emotion? Found only occasionally in diaries. Where in the heck did I come from?? Emotional should have been my middle name. I searched and searched for a fondness for me, a love for me, a word written on page to tell others that I was loving and kind, silly and funny. A story that told of our love for each other. I found secrets and pain that had been held onto for years. Hundreds of books that held meaning to me through every age. For almost three months I made this pilgrimage to a home that was full of you name it and yet it felt so empty. Baby clothes she made for me and my baby books were filled with love. Less and less as I grew older., except for my first driver's license, my report cards, and a few of my stories. When I walked through the house for the last time, viewing all that was there, in my mind, from my perspective, there were so many beautiful collections, nice furniture, memories of things used. Yes, there were at least 10 boxes of pictures, I hope to find more love in those boxes. I have not been able to open them since I picked out pictures for the memorial. I want to find more of me in a selfish sort of way, something of love that does not fit into a newspaper article or a piece of clothing or a book. Maybe that was all they could do, knowing the pain of their pasts, maybe I need to find peace in the pieces. I must believe there was love in the ruins.