Adversely!! (See my earlier message.) It’s been said, “We had a mild summer.”  If that’s the case, I don’t want to experience an extreme summer!! I’m a Texas resident and I may see—and hear—news that doesn’t reach other states. “Extreme”  conditions along the Texas border!! Have you seen the pictures of thousands of migrants, in this heat, without sanitation, food, and water? One can only imagine the hardships of the long walk just to get to the United States. I can’t—and won’t—complain about my situation. It’s six in the morning and I’m sitting in my air-conditioned living room, after a night in a comfortable bed. I have food and water–and clean clothes. Imagine migrants with only the clothes on their back.

I’ll be honest: When I started this message, I was about to “complain” about my health problems. However, my kind, loving Heavenly Father (God) reminded me of my immeasurable blessings “pressed down, overflowing.”

Sending “happy thoughts” to my readers.

There was a time when I was “a volunteer” at several organizations (one at a time 🙂 ). I gladly shared my time and talent. Now, the Coronavirus, isolation, and old age keep me at home. I pray my passion for genealogy is a gift “that keeps on giving.” ~~ Remember my project earlier this year? I regularly revisit that “tree” looking for the valuable information that supports the identity of a great-grandfather. ~~ Every week I answer questions from other subscribers to Ancestry.com. I’m an editor, and contributor, to other Ancestry trees, and that documentation (those numbers) are not reflected when I publish my milestones. Having said all that, I feel like “my arms are too short.” I wish I could do more to help victims of fires, hurricanes, flooding…  I was trained by Samaritan’s Purse for disaster relief; I had my bag packed, ready to go… Also: Volunteer with Habitat For Humanity.

Overly zealous? I missed the round number. I was documenting another obituary and there were children—and siblings—and nieces and nephews. OMG: One thousand individuals added in two weeks!! I “gotta git ‘er done”  before someone writes my obituary.

.

.

Postscript: Thirteen hours later. Besides one hundred new individuals, “sources” were added to dozens of folks already in my “tree.”

.

Look at the email weblink I just received: Persistent gut problems.

“Precious memories, how they linger, How they ever flood my soul…”    (A beautiful song.)

Yesterday, while “downsizing,” I was reminded of a dear friend named George Bowden. Both of us were residents at the Escapees RV Club facility called “CARE” (Continuing Assistance Retired Escapees). Originally we were volunteers and later chose to make it “our forever home.” George was “an intellectual,” a “deep thinker.” (So much to be said; a paragraph of information could be shared.) Suddenly, unexpectedly, George was gone. I have the sheaf of papers we received when we attended his Memorial Service (April 2017). This touched my soul:

Footprints

What is a photograph
but a footprint of a moment?
Not the moment itself,
but a dim, partial voice left behind,
mute and motionless,
pointing silently toward the past,
only hinting at the richness
of the living narratives of human experience.
Flipping through the pages of the scrapbooks of my life,
I see the old photographs–
those faded footprints–and I remember.
Ghosts of friends and family,
captured in moments of time,
come to life again.
My joy, my desire, my sorrow and dreams, my love,
my stories are once more given bright, fiery substance
by the sheer force of memory.
When I am gone and you open this book
and look upon these pictures from my life
without my memories,
what will these silent sentinels reveal?
They will be gone, yet you will still see me,
captured in a series of moments
across dog-eared pages for you to remember
as you continue to shape your own journey,
as you leave behind your own footprints.

Two hours (more or less) were spent on the downsizing project. Items went into the trash but the praise-worthy accomplishment was packing this box. Smile because this is a box of rocks!! Yes, eighteen pounds of rocks and will be expensive to mail to the Brethren Heritage Center. ~~ My immigrant ancestor, Michael Frantz (1687-1748) was an early preacher in the group later identified as “German Baptist Brethren.” This box contains rocks, and shingles, from the barn where Michael Frantz preached a sermon documented in Brethren’s history. I’ve been assured these relics will be well-received by the Brethren Heritage Center. ~~ I encourage the reader to click this link, It’s a small world after all,  and read more details.

Before I can re-start my downsizing project, I have to “tie up loose ends.”  Some of the families need my attention while the details are fresh in my mind. Seriously, I work with so many families… in two or three days I will have forgotten those I documented yesterday or today.

Yesterday, I spent a lot of time in the enormous H.E.B. store. “A lot of time”  because I was selective regarding items placed in my cart. The fruit and vegetable section is enormous—with fruit and vegetables displayed high and wide. My “persistent thought”: How much goes into the garbage? “Ripe” food; more food than customers. My purchase totaled $206.60—and no meat, liquor, soft drinks, bread, cookies… My sympathy to families paying for items piled high in their carts. Hard to wrap my mind around… but maybe upwards of a thousand dollars for their groceries? “Families” shop more often than an old woman, hunkered down, who leaves home once a month. ~~~ I bought groceries but (at 10:00 o’clock) “I’m hungry.”  (I’m cautious about what I eat and [glad to report] I have less gut pain.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ National Grandparents Day, Sunday, September 12th. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This Grandmother was happy “climbing trees” and failed to get this message published prior to midnight. OMG, how time flies!! I could launch into a long narrative about my children and grandchildren—but I’ll save that for another day because it’s long past my bedtime.