Family Reunion

10/9/2010 - 10/10/2010 -- Family Reunion

Chris' dad drove up on Friday (well, he left on Thursday and stopped to rest a while) so we could go to what apparently is an annual family reunion for the Juelfs family. It was awesome...I met family I have only heard of...Kraig had a blast. We found out that one of Chris' aunts lives in Blytheville, Arkansas, which is not far at all from Memphis. I was able to correct and add some family history information.


We left early Saturday morning...it was about a 6 hour drive...we went from TN through AR through MO to IL...four states in one day, whew!

We got to Red Bud, IL around 12 and had a little trouble finding the park where the reunion was...but we did find it. We parked, and Chris' dad walked over to the picnic table and before he could ask if it was the right place, the lady at the table said "Richard?" and nearly dropped the bowl she was holding. So, yeah, we were in the right place.

Kraig loved the playground...

The park they use has a pavilion with several picnic tables, an adjoining enclosed playground, adjacent restrooms, and a large field behind it. Oh and a sandbox. It was a great set up. Kraig loved the playground....and he did really well with all the new people. I was quite impressed.   They had brought a pinata for the children...

We ate lunch....it was potluck, and I have many recipes to gather. :) Then there was an impromtu family history gathering session....another family member there has been working on the family lines, and had brought much of her stuff with her to confirm and gather additional information. I had brought the minimal information we have...and it grew by leaps and bounds. It was awesome. She had pictures as well, which she has agreed to send me. Sweet!

7 of the 11 brothers and sisters...2 are deceased, and the others were unable to make it.

After the reunion, we went to get a hotel in Waterloo. As we were checking in, the receptionist asked which (insert my last name here) we were. It was a new experience for me...most people can't say our name let alone have heard of it before. She had gone to school with cousins, apparently. We went to get something to eat, and when we got back, the "message waiting" light was blinking on the phone. The message was for my father in law....apparently his sisters had tracked us down. There are few hotels in Waterloo...so it was a short search. Plans were made to meet up with two of his sisters to go to Fults, IL, which is outside of Waterloo, to visit the family cemetary and where they grew up.


Sunday morning, we got up and had a continental breakfast at the hotel, then went exploring Waterloo a bit. It was awesome. It is such a small town in so many ways...one of the most unique things I saw were these wooden shack things at the corners of the streets. I thought they were telephone booths, but after seeing one with a yellow police vest in it, I found out that they are crossing guard booths. The orange color they were painted, that I thought was for Halloween, is actually the school colors. Unfortunately, by the time this came up in conversation, we didn't see any more and I didn't get any pictures.

After Waterloo, we met Kathy and Pearl, my father in law's sisters, and followed them to the family cemetary. I took pictures of the gravesites and took notes of relationships. I love stuff like that....genealogy is one of my hobbies, so this was absolutely spellbinding to me.

Looks like we are driving across an open field.....

But it WAS a paved road...

(It says "God's finger touched him and he slept")  Pearl and I etched the dirt out with a couple of sticks to figure out what it said. It is written on the headstone of an infant son of their grandparents, so my husband's great grandparents.

                                                           My husband's grandparents....

 The cemetary is on a hill....Fults the town (such as it is) sits at the bottom of the hill...

We drove to the city of Fults, which is a very small town. It was already a small town, but it sits right next to the Mississippi River and was wiped out by flood in 1991. The church they used to attend is still standing...it is no longer used for regular services, but someone keeps up the garden and they use it for the annual Christmas service and for weddings and other special occasions.

 The stained glass is beautiful...

Entrance to the restroom....from outside the church building....

The garden...

I just found this kind of amusing....

You don't get much more small town than this.... :)

After that, we went to the homestead...the original house is gone, but some of the original buildings are still there and some of the old farm equipment. One of their brothers' still lives there. There is a dried up pond out back. Oh, and the original cistern is still there, though obviously not in use. I had to ask what a cistern was....do you know????

This is the original homestead....the house sat to the left of the barn.

(It's a well.)

The "new" (old) house that sits on the property now....

Then we began the drive home...it is such beautiful country. We stopped at the visitor's center in Chester, IL, which sits on IL side of the Mississippi River...Missouri is on the other side of the bridge.

Look how fast that water is moving...

hmmm...so which way would you go????

Chester is the home of Popeye...there is a huge bronze statue of Popeye outside of the visitors center.

There is a deck to look out at the river..as we turned to leave, a train was coming...so of course we had to turn and watch it go by.

We stopped at Alice's (the aunt that lives in Blytheville, AR) house on the way home....she had her family come over and fixed dinner for all of us. It was nice to sit and visit and Kraig had a good time.

The Pickle Jar

Got this in my email....enjoy, as I did.

The Pickle Jar

The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on

the floor beside the dresser in my parents' bedroom.

When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his

pockets and toss his coins into the jar.

As a small boy, I was always fascinated at the sounds

the coins made as they were dropped into the jar. They

landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost empty.

Then the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled.

I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar to admire

the copper and silver circles that glinted like a pirate's

treasure when the sun poured through the bedroom

window.

When the jar was filled, Dad would sit at the

kitchen table and roll the coins before taking them to the bank.

Taking the coins to the bank was always a big production.

Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were

placed between Dad and me on the seat of his old truck.

Each and every time, as we drove to the bank, Dad would

look at me hopefully.

'Those coins are going to keep you

out of the textile mill, son. You're going to do better than

me. This old mill town's not going to hold you back.'

Also, each and every time, as he slid the box of rolled

coins across the counter at the bank toward the cashier,

he would grin proudly...

'These are for my son's college

fund. He'll never work at the mill all his life like me.'

We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for

an ice cream cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always got vanilla.

When the clerk at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change,

he would show me the few coins nestled in his palm.

'When we get home, we'll start filling the jar again.'

He always let me drop the first coins

into the empty jar. As they rattled around

with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at each other.

'You'll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and

quarters,' he said.

'But you'll get there; I'll see to that.'

No matter how rough things got at home,

Dad continued to doggedly drop his coins into the jar.

Even the summer when Dad got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to

serve dried beans several times a week, not a single dime was taken from the jar.

To the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me, pouring catsup over my beans to make them more palatable, he became more determined than ever to

make a way out for me.

'When you finish college, Son,' he told me, his eyes glistening,

'You'll never have to eat beans again - unless you want to.'

The years passed, and I finished college and took a job in another town. Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose

and had been removed.

A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside

the dresser where the jar had always stood.. My dad was a man of few words: he never lectured me on the values of determination, perseverance, and faith. The pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently than the most flowery of words could have done.

When I married, I told my wife Susan about the significant part the lowly pickle jar had played in my life as a boy. In my mind, it defined, more than

anything else, how much my dad had loved me.

The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was born,

we spent the holiday with my parents. After dinner, Mom

and Dad sat next to each other on the sofa, taking turns

cuddling their first grandchild. Jessica began to whimper

softly, and Susan took her from Dad's arms.

'She probably needs to be changed,' she said,

carrying the baby into my

parents' bedroom to diaper her. When Susan came back

into the living room, there was a strange mist in her eyes.

She handed Jessica back to Dad before taking my hand

and leading me into the room.

'Look,' she said softly,

her eyes directing me to a spot on the floor beside the dresser.

To my amazement, there, as if it had never been removed,

stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already covered with

coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down into my

pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins. With a gamut of

emotions choking me, I dropped the coins into the jar.

I looked up and saw that Dad, carrying Jessica, had slipped

quietly into the room. Our eyes locked, and I knew he was

feeling the same emotions I felt. Neither one of us could speak.

This truly touched my heart.

Sometimes we are so busy

adding up our troubles that we forget to count our blessings.

Never underestimate the power of your actions.

With one small gesture you can change a person's life, for better or for worse.

God puts us all in each other's lives to impact one another

in some way.

Look for GOOD in others.

The best and most beautiful things cannot be seen or
touched - they must be felt with the heart

~ Helen Keller ~

- Happy moments, praise God.

- Difficult moments, seek God.

- Quiet moments, worship God.

- Painful moments, trust God.

- Every moment, thank God.

Christopher is 15...O.M.G

Before I get to catching up on some of my blog hops.......let me first say

H A P P Y  B I R T H D A Y

to my son Christopher.

Geez...I cannot believe he is 15 years old.  I remember the day he was born, or rather, the days leading up to and including the day he was born.  He was (and continues to be) a stubborn child. 

I started going into labor on the 28th....contractions were not regular or long or even painful necessarily.   The contractions got to be close enough and long enough...I thought...to warrant going to the hospital.  But he was apparently not ready...and home we went. 

So we walked. And walked. And walked.  The apartments we lived in had a sidewalk that circled the tennis courts....I knew where each crack was in that sidewalk. For 3 full days, we walked. 

I went back to work on that Monday....and the contractions started again.  I spent much of the night in the restroom, not realizing that my labor was "back labor". I worked 3p-11p at the time, and my shift was for the most part over....when my husband picked me up, I told him I thought we might be going to the hospital again. 

We went home....timed the contractions more accurately, called the answering service....and went to the hospital....

at 220am, on October 3, 1995, Christopher Leigh was here. 

(While he looks like he was asleep...he was not.  In fact, he had just been crying according to my husband....quite the faker~that hasn't changed much, either ;) 

Fifteen years ...where do the years go?

At 15, there isn't really any hoorah....we gave him his gift (a day early), he had a decorated cookie--with no singing, and out of state family have called him today as well.

October 2010--Home Depot

 10/2/2010 -- Home Depot

October is apparently Fire Prevention Month or something...because again this year, the project was a fire themed object...and a fire truck came to the workshop as well.  They made a fire boat..which i apparently did not get a picture of...but I they let the kids traipse all through the truck!



If We Believe, We Shall Receive

I have another scripture to share.....well, sort of two, but they are related.

1 Nephi 11: 5-6

(in these verses, Nephi has prayed and requested to see the things his father saw; the angel of the Lord asks him if he believes that his father saw the tree of which he spoke)

vs. 5:"..yea, thou knowest that I believe..."

vs. 6:"...because thou believest in the son of the most high God; wherefore, thou shalt behold the things which thou desirest."

What this says to me is
1) we don't have to wonder if the Lord knows of our belief...we can know that he knows our hearts and
2) IF we believe, we shall receive. It's as simple as that. (Well maybe not quite that simple, but it starts just the simple....)
That is a great comfort to me as I progress through this life with the many challenges and struggles that seem to be part of my everyday life.

(NOTE:  If you don't have your scriptures handy, or if you don't have a copy of the Bible or Book of Mormon or any scriptures for that matter, you can visit www.lds.org to view them online.  Click on Gospel Library-->Scriptures-->then select through the links to get to the scriptures you wish to see.)