Lost Stories

There’s a lot of missing stories, aren’t there? Like my house, emptied of the original furnishings and folks, I wonder if there’s anyone alive who can tell me about them…

Do you know your grandparent’s stories? I bet most of you do. How about your great grandparent’s? Not too many of us can recite much. And even less about those before. Their names are simply scribed on a family tree–if you are so blessed to have one. Or, more finally, on a tombstone if you think to go hunting.

Sometimes an unexpected cache of photos from a great aunt, thrice removed, end up on our door steps (wishful thinking!), and we revel in their quaintness and style…until we wonder who they were and why they mattered…

Perhaps a pile of their clothing came along…slightly bedraggled. But all the same, we’ve got to try them on…

Or beg our thin-waisted daughters to squeeze into them.

(SIGH!!!)

We had to be careful. New wine in the old skins…

Sometimes I’m hooked by history–frozen midstride in an antiques shop. And gasp, like when the owner showed me this bodice. I can almost see her.

The one who lived a story.

That gal? She was fearfully and wonderfully made.

Do me a favor? Look at your own photo, or in the mirror, and say the same about yourself. Fearfully and wonderfully made.

Now go, live your story within His Story…

and pass it down.

Until next time,

Ann