Since yesterday was the 24th of July, pioneer day, I have been putting thought into what significance this day has for me. When I lived in Salt Lake it was a day to have off work. Growing up it was a day to head to Mendon in the evening and watch some good softball and maybe visit the snack shack.
However, as I have become more involved it has become a time to become more nostalgic and remember my forbears. This includes many who crossed the ocean by sail boat, and then the planes by foot. There are those in the family who did not make it. Little babies buried in Saint Louis, or Boston, and on the planes. And also great great great grandmother Ashton who passed away shortly after giving birth, and is buried in the vicinity of Winter Quarters. These babies and children and adults have not been visited after their burials, in fact, in most cases, burial sites are not known to the family.
And then of course there are those ancestors who survived, and provided a pioneer heritage of fortitude, and perseverance, and faith in God. Who dared come to a new land, take on the life of farming, and make a living for themselves.
It is to these ancestors I am grateful for the heritage they have left me. I try to respect that heritage in my daily activities.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment