My Heritage

I spend a lot of afternoons sewing and watching a couple of episodes of The Waltons. I really enjoy the portrayal of family in that show. I've often wondered what it would have been like to grow up with my grandparents living in the same house. My maternal grandparents were Swedish. Both of their mothers came to the US from Sweden when they were young girls. My maternal grandmother died when I was only 2 1/2. I've always wished I knew her. I have a few of her quilting things. Some fabric, unfinished blocks and cardboard templates.

Sometimes I take them out and wonder about the hands that made them. I hope she'd be pleased that I quilt like she did.

My maternal grandpa passed away when I was in college. (I wrote more about him in this post.)

Even though I am only 2 1/2 in this picture, this is exactly how I remembered my grandpa looking even years later. This was taken at the first Christmas after my grandma died. I think Grandpa looks sad.

Me, my Swedish grandpa, and my brother.

I still have some birthday cards my grandpa sent me. He had a spectacular signature.

My paternal grandparents were a big part of my life. They would come to visit often and I would spend a week or so in the summer time with them. I have great memories of those times. They would let me eat sliced tomatoes with sugar (sounds icky to me now). I remember watching The Floppy Show while I ate lunch. I was allowed to eat on a TV tray on the edge of the linoleum of the kitchen (never on the carpet). They took me to the Iowa State Fair. I went to the county fair with them, ate my grandma's amazing fried chicken and homemade rolls (I wish I would have asked her to teach me how to make both of those).  We sat downtown the evening the stores stayed open late and watched the people go by. I'd be introduced to their friends as their son's baby (and be so embarrassed.) Grandma used to love to put her arm around me or link arms with me as we walked some where. That embarrassed me too. Only now I'd love to feel that soft, old hand in mine.

(Yep, that's me in between my grandparents. I think I am 14 or 15 in that photo.)

My grandparents lived only about 15 miles from where I went to college and I got to see them often. I would clean house for them and they would let me do my laundry for free.

This is at their 50th Wedding Anniversary. Grandma's hair was always so perfect. They were married for over 60 years.

Grandpa died right after I graduated from college and not long before I got married. He was a funny man. He loved to tell jokes and make us grandkids laugh. I miss the smell of whatever it was he put in his hair. Grandpa used to sneak money to us grandkids. He would hand me a quarter, a five dollar bill, a dollar, and whisper, "Don't tell Grandma." (I'm not sure why he thought Grandma shouldn't know. I'm sure she did.) At Grandpa's funeral, my brother stuck a quarter into the pocket of Grandpa's suit coat pocket and whispered, "Don't tell Grandma." Yep. That brought the tears.

Grandma lived to be 96. I'm glad she knew my kids.

Me, Caleb (about 18 months old), Grandma (89) and my dad.

I have sweet memories of the letters she would write to me. Instead of writing a smiley face :) or writing LOL or writing hahahaha, she would often intersperse a ha. That's it. ha. Always a lower case letter and always a period after it. Grandma would call me periodically, even after I was married, and start the conversation with, "What do you know?" When Grandma talked on the phone she would sit with pencil in hand and doodle. They were quite detailed doodles. I loved to look for them when I visited her house. Grandma loved Jesus. She told me once that she was looking forward to being in heaven but was frightened of the process of getting there. I found a letter I had written to her. (If you click on these, you should be able to read them better.)

This side of the letter are the words to the song Another Time, Another Place. It was sung by Sandi Patti.

Even though I was the youngest of eleven grandchildren, I felt like Grandma took time to have a relationship with me even after I married and had my own kids. I miss that about her. I want to learn from her example when someday I am a grandma.

Day 22 of Thankfulness

I have one thing left on my To Do List for today (aside from the load of towels in the washing machine). That last thing I need to do is to write my Blog Post of Thankfulness for today.

At the risk of sounding predictable, I am thankful for the Pilgrims that came to this continent in 1620. Specifically, I am thankful for William Bradford. He was the second governor of the Plymouth colonies. Why does he interest me? Because of the fact that he is Hubby's nine times great grandfather! How cool is that?

(Click here or here to read a bit about William Bradford.)

I admire that Mr. Bradford and the Pilgrims wanted to make the trip across the ocean in order to be able to worship God freely. I have been to where the Pilgrims sailed from in the Netherlands and where they landed at Cape Cod. Both times I remember thanking God for the obedience of William Bradford and the others.

I am thankful for...
...William Bradford sailing to the Colony of Virginia
...because of that, I have my husband
...how mind boggling that is

Day 3 of Thankfulness

This is a model of the city of Chicago.

A couple of days I go I mentioned something about the Chicago River having a history in our family.

Hubby's great-great grandfather, C.J., used to live in Chicago. C.J. was born in England and left there when he was 17. I think he lived in New York at first and then moved to Chicago in 1869. There he began his business of making canvas awnings and tents.

When the great Chicago fire came in 1871, C.J. saw that his "business could be destroyed by the fire, The small stock of cloth which he had on hand and the few sewing machines which he had been able to buy were all that he possessed. Wrapping the sewing machines in the tent cloth, he dumped the entire stock out of a window into the Chicago River and anchored it to a post with a rope. After the fire he drew his stock, practically unharmed, from the water and resumed business in the street. The fire had created such a demand for his wares that he sold all that he had in short order." (Quoted from C.J.'s obituary.)


A year later, C.J. became a Christian after reading the words from John 6:37, "...whoever comes to me I will never drive away." After this he gave himself whole-heartily to the Lord's service. He still ran his tent and awning business, but he spent several nights a week preaching on the streets of Chicago. I've read that he was possibly one of the first to start a mission for homeless people in Chicago, charging a nickle for a cot for the night. And if someone didn't have the nickel, he provided it himself.

In 1887 C.J. moved to Kansas City. "But business was not his object in moving. His object was threefold, First, to print and circulate all the tracts he could, Second, to give all the money he could and Third, to preach the gospel to all he could. The business was only the means to these ends." (Quoted from a copy of an article we have.)

Before C.J. left Chicago, he "selectively approached seven or eight employees and invited them to come with him to Kansas City. He wanted capable tent and awning workers, but it appears that the chief qualification for going to Missouri was their agreement with him on spiritual matters, and their abilities in gospel outreach. Several were excellent singers. One of the men's wives...was an outstanding children's worker." (Quoted from an article I found online about him.)

C.J. had a successful business in Kansas City. His factory had scripture on the walls. His catalogs had scripture across the bottom of every page. He was very concerned about the souls of the people who worked for him. He conducted street meetings. He worked hard all his life. He stated that there was plenty of time to rest in heaven.

I write this here because C.J. is our son's, Caleb namesake (C.J. stands for Caleb Jason), and I admire him and his dedication to our Lord.

I am thankful for...
...the legacy of C.J.
...for the generations of Christ followers
...for this story to be a part of our family

 (I see my husband in the kindness in those eyes.)