We had a family reunion, here, at my house, last weekend. We didn't have a great turn out, but good for a first try.
Getting ready for the reunion, I made a photo album and put together a notebook with Bacon family genealogy, and some letters and newspaper clippings I found in my mothers bible. One of my cousins sent some stories and poems written by her mother and brother, as well. There were some great stories about the people we came from.
During all this, I was taking a 13 day round of steroids, which tried to kill me. It almost turned me into a man. Seriously, I'm still tweezing the hairs from my chin. It kept me awake at night, and I couldn't eat. Nothing tasted right and I was just not hungry. Also, I found myself, with the television remote, mindlessly changing channels. See, just like a man.
When I did sleep, because of all the family stories I was reading, I would wake up, in the middle of the night, and think, "Where is my butter churn?", or something like that. Silly, I know, but I walked the Trail of Tears and fought in the Civil War, until morning.
This all has me thinking, today about suffering. Those of my generation have lived, what some might consider charmed lives. We were born after the country recovered from the big war. Our parents owned their homes with color TVs and frost free refrigerators. Most of us never picked cotton. We rode our bikes to and from school and watched The Monkeys and I Dream Of Jeanie, while doing our homework. When the boys, in our generation reached Draft age, The Vietnam war ended and the Draft was no more. It does sound like a cushy life. Most hardships and sufferings were self inflicted.
I wonder why we were so blessed. I wonder why my father had to be fatherless during the Depression, and my grandparents went through fires, devastation, and the loss of four children. Why were my ancestors forced off their land and made to live on a reservation?
All I know for sure is, if any of these things had gone a different way, I might not be here today. If my great- great grandfather had not had a calling on his life, to educate and bring the Gospel to the Indian Nation, I might not be a Christian today. And, I am thankful for these things, and for the life I have been given.
Getting ready for the reunion, I made a photo album and put together a notebook with Bacon family genealogy, and some letters and newspaper clippings I found in my mothers bible. One of my cousins sent some stories and poems written by her mother and brother, as well. There were some great stories about the people we came from.
During all this, I was taking a 13 day round of steroids, which tried to kill me. It almost turned me into a man. Seriously, I'm still tweezing the hairs from my chin. It kept me awake at night, and I couldn't eat. Nothing tasted right and I was just not hungry. Also, I found myself, with the television remote, mindlessly changing channels. See, just like a man.
When I did sleep, because of all the family stories I was reading, I would wake up, in the middle of the night, and think, "Where is my butter churn?", or something like that. Silly, I know, but I walked the Trail of Tears and fought in the Civil War, until morning.
This all has me thinking, today about suffering. Those of my generation have lived, what some might consider charmed lives. We were born after the country recovered from the big war. Our parents owned their homes with color TVs and frost free refrigerators. Most of us never picked cotton. We rode our bikes to and from school and watched The Monkeys and I Dream Of Jeanie, while doing our homework. When the boys, in our generation reached Draft age, The Vietnam war ended and the Draft was no more. It does sound like a cushy life. Most hardships and sufferings were self inflicted.
I wonder why we were so blessed. I wonder why my father had to be fatherless during the Depression, and my grandparents went through fires, devastation, and the loss of four children. Why were my ancestors forced off their land and made to live on a reservation?
All I know for sure is, if any of these things had gone a different way, I might not be here today. If my great- great grandfather had not had a calling on his life, to educate and bring the Gospel to the Indian Nation, I might not be a Christian today. And, I am thankful for these things, and for the life I have been given.
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