Chocolate Covered Peanuts & Gumdrops - Part 3 of Amongst My Momma's Treasures

When I started doing holiday dinners at my house I think I really pushed the limits of my husbands patience with me. I wanted every corner of the house scrubbed and polished so it shined when our guest arrived. Each picture that hung on the wall was removed so that I could clean the glass and polish the frame. Every little tchotchke was placed on the counter for a good washing. My normal laid back attitude changed to one of a woman crazed, obsessive and cranky to boot! Honestly sometimes I wonder how he put up with me at times. He would remind me that the ones coming were family and that they were not going to look under the beds to see if I had run the vacuum under them. What he didn't understand was that I wanted everything to be special and that for me that it was in the details.

Momma seemed to do all this so effortlessly through the years. I remember her being teased about how clean her home was by my Uncle Leon, he would reach up to the top of the kitchen cupboards and wipe his hand along the edge and tell her that he found a spot she missed. She would laugh at him and give him a little smack on the arm. The next day though she would be on the stepping stool wiping it down. Such a silly little memory, I know.

Everything Momma did was done with a servants heart. So many times she would offer to help me with whatever I was doing and I would refuse. It wasn't because I didn't want her help, it was because I let my pride get in my way. Gosh darn it – it was my dirt and I didn't think it was right to have anyone else have to deal with it. I'm still that way now, but I am trying to work on the pride thing. One time in particular that I'll never forget took place not long after I had had a major heart attack. I had been complaining to her about how difficult it was for me to do things because I would get worn out so fast. When she offered to help me I refused once again. Even today, 10 years later, her words to me that day ring in my head: “Terri – did you every consider that by letting me help you, you are giving me a gift?” - Whoa – my brain went numb for a moment at her words, I responded with: “But, it's not right for you to feel you have to come do this for me – you have so much of your own to do.” In her calm, but strong voice she responded: “But, Terri, by refusing me you are denying me the joy of giving my time to you. You complain to me all the time about the kids not letting you help them when you offer, but you do the same thing.” Well what could I say – she was right.

After Momma's memorial service so many people came over to me and expressed how she had “stood in the gap” for them or for a family member. One lady told me how my folks would go out of the way to pick up her mother and take her places when she no longer could drive. Over and over I heard these remarks. They were things that I did not know about, but, were not a surprise. Many people say - “If you need anything just let me know” - My Momma never waited to be asked she was just there doing whatever needed to be done and always with a joyful heart.

There are little things we do that seem insignificant to us at the time, but we do them to please the ones we love. Momma kept a bowl of gumdrops on the coffee table. She bought them in 5# bags because we would gobble them up when we visited. We laughed about how even the hospice nurses would sit and talk with her and munch on gumdrops. So of course we kept the bowl full. We take so many things for granted thinking they will always be there for us.

In spite of my obsessive behavior in preparing for company I was not the only one in the house that paid attention to the details. Darrell had gone to the store and when he returned he had a big grin on his face. One large bag was filled with an assortment of candies, just like Momma always did. He pulled out a bag of chocolate cover peanuts and declared: “Mom always has chocolate covered peanuts and we're going to do that too!”

I learned a great deal from Momma without even knowing I was being taught. After
that first big meal at my house she handed me the Bible and told me to read this story from Luke 10:38-42. Uggg I thought – she always does this to me and the part that gets me is that it always works.

At the Home of Martha and Mary 

38 As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. 39 She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. 40 But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

41 “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, 42 but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

Momma in her own special way helped me to understand that all my distress in the preparations was not necessary, but rather, the time we would be sharing was all that matter. How fortunate I was to have such a woman in my life.

Amongst my Momma's treasures was a loving, giving and joyful heart.

Stories & Pretty Things – Part 2 of Amongst My Momma's Treasures



Momma's Baby Book

I couldn't even begin to count the number of times Momma and I went through the treasures in her hope chest. The chest held only special memories of her life and of course my fathers too. Oh my, how I loved touching her pretty things and listening to her stories. There were letters tied with ribbons, some filled with sadness and others with joy. Old pictures of family filled my head with questions that could not be answered. One small box held my baptism dress, bonnet and pink booties. The tiniest red rose with a white ribbon was perfectly dried and kept as a remembrance of that day. I wonder if she ever tired of telling me about the day I was born. Gosh, it seems like yesterday that I was that wide eyed little girl sitting on the floor with Momma. Isn't it wonderful that we can hit the rewind button in our heads to these precious memories and revisit them anytime we want to.

Momma was born in south central Nebraska in 1922 in an area primarily made up of German immigrants. There were a few Swed's in the mix for fun. Her father had emigrated from Germany in 1906.  Her Mother was 1st generation American, whose parents had emigrated from an area known as Ostfriesland, Germany.  Grandma's parents were farmers going back for generations, but Grandpa was a city boy who grew up in Hamburg.  I wonder now how hard it had been for him to adapt to such a change.

She was the second born of six children and the oldest daughter. By the time her twin sisters were born in the thirties Momma was 12. Two years later another little sister arrived. Growing up in a big family on the farm meant everyone from the youngest to the oldest had to pitch in and help. Since Grandma was busy with cooking for her big family, and also helping out in the fields, meant Momma was in charge of taking care of the girls. She often referred to herself as their “second mother”, something she seemed to take great pride in. Every Saturday night she would curl the girls hair for church on Sunday. Remember this was before the day of curling irons, she would take candles and roll their hair around them and the girls would have to hold them until it was dry. When Momma would tell these stories there always seemed to be a little glint in her eyes. I think her love for them went beyond the love of sister to sister.

Going through Momma's hope chest after she died brought a lot of sweet memories back of the times we looked at them together. I thought I knew every little thing in it by heart, but when I found her Baby Book I was taken aback. I don't recall ever seeing it before, surely I would remember something so precious. The handwriting in the book was so familiar and I recognized it immediately as my Grandmas. As I went through the pages and read the things my grandma had written about her little girl I couldn't help but smile. Oh, how I wish I would have seen it when I could have shared it with her. But, you know something? Maybe it was a treasure meant to be found today – a small connection to the past. Something to warm a broken heart.........

To be continued.

Just the other side of the bridge - Part 1 of Amongst My Momma's Treasures

A long time ago I received this Thomas Kinkade picture in an email and fell in love with its peacefulness. I so can picture myself spending eternity there.

After my husband, Darrell, died I would imagine him living there with our Kallie Dog. He would be “putzying” with something and Kallie would be swimming in the stream or chasing a ball.

After loosing my Mom last month, I again have found comfort in this Kinkade painting. I imagine her cottage is just on the other side of the bridge. Darrell and Mom get together for coffee and she bakes him one of her yummy banana cream pies. Occasionally my grandparents stop by and they all have a grand time. They chat about the day we will all be together again and pray that those of us still here on earth are doing well.

I know what you are thinking right now. You're thinking – WOW this lady has quite the imagination. And you would be right.

Amongst my Momma's treasures was a small *book I had given her in hopes that it would bring her some comfort as she struggled with cancer. I was drawn to the book shortly after Darrell died. I would read a few pages every night to help my mind settle into sleep. When I found the book next to her chair there were several pages marked. The first page marked read: “I have loved you....fear not, for I am with you.” (Isaiah 43:4-5) and “He humbled himself and became obedient to death – even death on the cross.” (Philippians 2:8). One of Mom's treasures was the powerful faith that she had in God. It was so precious to her that she taught it to her children, so that we too could receive the joy of knowing our Saviour and the blessing of eternal life with Him.

One day I will walk across the bridge where my husband waits for me at the foot of the bridge and he will say: “Welcome home sweetheart – what kept you so long.” Oh, and I can't wait to have a piece of my Mom's delicious banana cream pie. For now God has work for me to do here, but one day.........

To be continued.......

(*book: Fear Not – The Promise book by Max Lucado)

Unexpected Reunion - The Slide Show

In March of 2009 I began a 10 part series called "The Unexpected Reunion", which told of an unplanned, unexpected and unbelievable family reunion that took place in September of 1989.  My Fathers brother, Ray, received a phone call from the U.S. Army with news that our family never expected to know.  My Uncle Willis, who was a fighter pilot in the Pacific during WWII, was shot down in an air battle over Simpson Harbor, Rabaul, New Britain on November 2, 1943.  He was listed as "Missing In Action" at that time.  Although the Army did do some searching for him they were unable to locate him at that time.  In 1986 a man who was doing some surveying on a plantation in New Britain spotted the wreckage and reported it.  A full excavation was performed and they were able to find the serial number of the plane, which identified my Uncle as the man who had been flying it.

It was 3 years before the Army was able to locate the oldest living blood relative.  F/O Willis F. Evers' remains were escorted and guarded 24 hours a day until he was laid to rest with full military honors, including a fly over.

 
There are so many ways to share our family history - from blogging to verbal story telling.  I happen to enjoy producing family history slide shows, not only of my own family but also for other individuals as well. I have taken portions of the story I wrote in 2009 and completed a slide show of the events that took place in my Uncle Willis' life and the events that took place on September 15, 1989.  This slide show has been prepared in a story telling format - I hope you will enjoy it.

This slide show has also been entered in a Photodex contest on Facebook for family reunions.  Voting begins August 1st through the 8th - if you are a Facebook member and are so inclined I certainly would appreciate your vote.

Please enjoy my presentation of - "Unexpected Reunion - Home at Last"!

This is the face of genealogy!

These are the faces I see when I think of genealogy!  Shame on you LA Weekly for mocking the history of our ancestors!  These are the people who built this country with their bare hands, the men and women who fought for your freedom, they are your parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters and yes your cousins.

You may have changed the picture, but the damage has already been done.  Click here to read the story and see the picture LA Weekly posted. 

Civil War - Charles Bunge

Honoring my 2nd Great Grand Uncle on

the 150th Anniversary of the start of

the Civil War

April 12, 1861

Karl Heinrich Joachim Bunge (Charles) was born on June 20, 1842 in Germany. When he was 6 years old, in 1853, the family emigrated to the U.S. through the Port of New Orleans.  The Bunge family then traveled to Gasconade County, Missouri where they farmed and lived in the town of Bland the remainder of their years.

Charles enlisted in the Union Calvary in 1862 and was part of Company B - 6th Calvary. According to the Civil War records I found he brought his own horse and equipment and received extra pay for that.  It appears that he served 2 years in this unit.

Charles married Mary Wittrock on October 17, 1865 in Bland, Missouri.  They were blessed with 12 children.

Charles died on March 18, 1924 in Bland, Gasconade County, Missouri.  He is buried at the Old Bland Cemetery, where many of my ancestors rest.

Old Bland Cemetery

Photo's Courtesy of Blake Georgie

(Distant Bunge Cousin)

The Day My World Changed

The morning of November 29, 2009 began as most of my mornings do; sharing a hot cup of coffee, with my husband, and arguing as to whose turn it was to go out in the cold and get the Sunday paper. We chatted about how great our Thanksgiving had been and how good the turkey came out this year.  We laughed about how silly everyone looked playing the Wii games that day, and how much fun they all had. Then the rest of the day we just did our own thing.  I worked on some things on the computer and Darrell, of course, watched every football game that was on.

When I woke that morning I had a clear picture of who I was as a woman, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a step-mom and a grandma. By that evening, my clarity would change dramatically and my world would change forever. For you see my role as wife changed to widow.  Who is this “widow” person? I didn't know her and I definitely didn't want to be “her”.  I couldn't breath. – I can't accept this! – It can't be happening! – Why now?– Why! Why! Why? I just wanted to run away.


The unrelenting sorrow and pain that followed the death of my husband, my best friend, seemed more than I could ever bear at times. The perpetual gray skies of that winter dragged on
and I felt a sense of hopelessness that I have never felt before. Tears flowed in an endless stream of grief and despair. Every night I begged God to please wake me from this dreadful dream.
With each step I took in the mornings there would be hope that he would be there; playing
solitaire as he always did and asking me for a cup of coffee. But, he wasn't there.  Despair
would settle over my body like blowing snow – cold and blinding. I was lost and alone, shrouded in a heavy black veil where there was only darkness.


In the darkness I prayed for help. The prayer barely passing my lips when I could feel the strong comforting arms of God wrapped around me. He rocked me in His arms and let me cry myself to sleep. Night after night I called to Him for strength and always He would come. I could hear Him:  Shh, shh, shh, I'm here, it's going to be alright.

In a few days a year will have passed since that night. The gray dark days of that winter gave way to spring and the blossoming of summer. Another Thanksgiving has come and gone and soon Christmas will be here. I'm still working through my sorrow, but, I have lifted the veil so that I can see the beauty of the life before me. I'm finding my way through the thorns and rediscovering my dreams and hopes for the future. Every day I reach up for God's hand and he guides me. – Some days He has to do a lot of pushing and pulling, but He is always there. At night God still wraps his arms around me and rocks me to sleep and I hear him: Shh, shh, shh, I'm here, it's going to be alright.......

(this post original from: The Next Chapter - Page 2010 )

The Mystical Power of a Treasure - Can you let it go?

This is been a tough year for me and many of my Geneablogger friends. I don't recall who it was of my Facebook Friends that declared it the “Summer of Sorrow”, but, they sure had an appropriate name for the Summer of 2010. For a while it seemed as though everyone was suffering through the passing of a loved one, whether it was a spouse, parent or close relative, it just seemed to be continual. Personally I don't like the word “loss” because you really haven't “lost” them, to me that means they can be found. Condolences and how to offer them is a subject for another time, so I will drop that for now.

I enjoy reading all the blogs about inherited or found family treasures, don't you? Sometimes I feel just a “tad” jealous, OK maybe a little more than a “tad bit”, that some seem to continually to be gifted with family heirlooms and others have nothing from their ancestors. This summer we have been moving my parents into an assisted living patio home. In doing so my folks have had to part with many of their personal treasures. Treasures collected over the 68 years of marriage. I think it was bitter sweet, especially for my Mom. I know it had to be hard to give up things that held special memories. I had asked if I could have the set of Tiffany wine glasses that graced her china hutch as long as I can remember. They are very delicate with tiny roses etched on them and they hold a memory of a special day. The wine glasses had been purchased with money given to them on their wedding day by my Dad's parents. Believe it or not, I even have the canceled check that Grandpa wrote for $17 , and marked “Wedding Gift for George and Lucille”. (How's that for citing a source? Ha ha – a little genealogy humor.) I loved my Mom's attitude about parting with her treasures. She said: “I can still enjoy seeing them in your china hutch.” Today the wine glasses gracefully sit on the top shelf of my china hutch and every time I look at them I'm reminded of my parents as a young couple picking out something really special with their wedding money.
 
There seems to be something mystical in holding an heirloom. Just knowing that 50 or more years ago an ancestor held and used that item seems to give us a physical connection to that person. I have a few handmade quilts made by my grandmother, when I wrap them around me somehow I can feel her. After all she spent hour after hour with the quilt in her lap as she sewed each square, so surely some part of her remains. The real treasure was Grandma herself, but I think we all cling to the things we can still see and touch every day,


It's wonderful when you are on the receiving end, but, can you let go of your treasure? Take a long hard look at the treasures you have surrounded yourself with in your own home. Can you picture them gone? If your spouse were to die would you be able to part with his or her family heirlooms?

Join me tomorrow as I share the pain and joy of parting with my husbands family treasures.....

Wordless Wednesday - Hildreth, NE

Just playing around with photoshop - trying out something different.  This is a photo of the main street in Hildreth, Nebraska as it looks today blended with
an old photo of the same street.....  Fun....

Sentimental Sunday - Let me be five again!

This Sunday I'm feeling a gentle sadness in my heart for the days that were and will never be again. Those hot summer days in Bedford, Massachusetts were full of adventure, especially when you're 5 years old. When I close my eyes I can picture the woods behind the house. There was cool, soft moss growing around the big trees, Lilly of the Valley scattered in bunches and blueberry bushes by the cabillions! My friend Cece and I would venture behind our duplex to the creek in search of tadpoles, there were so many you could just scoop them up in a jar. With a child's imagination the woods are a wonderful place to pretend in. I think they were much like where Robin Hood and his Band of Merry Men may have lived. Or possibly where Sleeping Beauty may have slept waiting for Prince Charming to kiss her and save her from the Evil Step-Mother's spell.


When we moved to our new home on Hanscom Air Force Base, there was a playground with swings! Oh those glorious swings how I loved them. We would sing and swing, higher, higher and higher, until we were high enough to go over the top, sometimes more than once. (Don't tell Mom!) One time, some of us kids got the idea it would be fun to put on a show, just like they did in Spanky and Our Gang. We each came up with our own little parts, thinking back I'm sure it was just silliness, but, oh we had so much fun. We would dress up in clothes and high heels, borrowed from our Mom's closet. I don't remember if we asked first, maybe better keep that quiet. We would pool our nickels and pennies and go to the PX and buy “Fizzies” and candy for our audience. I don't recall if we charged for them, but really what's a play without snacks?
Do you remember “Fizzies”?

If I could pick just one year from my youth it would be the year I was 5. By the time you're five you're really too big for naps any more. You also know that a tuna fish sandwich tastes much better when the crust is cut off and the bread is cut in triangles. You know that milk is more fun to drink through a straw, especially if you know how to blow bubbles with it, and Mom doesn't catch you. You're not to big to be carried to bed on Dad's shoulders. And best of all – next year you get to go to school, just like your big brothers! Yep, I'd sure love to spend the day in 1957.

Thanks for indulging my little trip back to the olden days........