This World Is Not My Home
As I look back on our family I can see God's hand of preparation for the unusual paths different ones of us would take.
First of all, both sets of grandparents left their native land, culture, language and relatives to travel to a distant country with a new culture, new langage and few, if any, relatives.It must have been daunting as there were so few convenienes that we today think we can't live without.
Then my Dad, in his early 20's, left his prosperous-by-now family in Iowa to stake out a claim in Western North Dakota. Mom, of couse, went with her parents to do the same, but at least she was not alone.
In this new place they settled in and became a vital part of the early settlers who blazed a pioneering trail in the West.
And still another move brought our family into a different culture, different situation and even a different language.
Drought had plagued my parents' area for years and so they decided to move to an area that was irrigated. It was only 50 miles West of their original home, into the Yellowstone Valley in Western North Dakota. This was a lush place in which mainly German people lived.
I was about 9 when, after we had just moved there, my parents were surprised by their earlier friends and neighbors for their 25th silver wedding anniversary. I can still recall looking up and seeing an army of cars full of people coming down that dusty road toward our home. Grama Aarhus had come over earlier. I suppose to help get ready. Among the guests was Clarence--home from Bible school to join us.
Later the Fairview News, our faithful community newspaper said, "This tells something of the high esteem with which this family was held in their former neighborhood."
And when we were settled in at Fairview, again several of us became unsettled to follow God's individual plans for us. To a new culture, new languages and new people. Joe went to India, Ray to Africa, and I to Japan.
And there have been other changes to keep us aware that "This World is Not My
home...I'm just a-passing through."
First of all, both sets of grandparents left their native land, culture, language and relatives to travel to a distant country with a new culture, new langage and few, if any, relatives.It must have been daunting as there were so few convenienes that we today think we can't live without.
Then my Dad, in his early 20's, left his prosperous-by-now family in Iowa to stake out a claim in Western North Dakota. Mom, of couse, went with her parents to do the same, but at least she was not alone.
In this new place they settled in and became a vital part of the early settlers who blazed a pioneering trail in the West.
And still another move brought our family into a different culture, different situation and even a different language.
Drought had plagued my parents' area for years and so they decided to move to an area that was irrigated. It was only 50 miles West of their original home, into the Yellowstone Valley in Western North Dakota. This was a lush place in which mainly German people lived.
I was about 9 when, after we had just moved there, my parents were surprised by their earlier friends and neighbors for their 25th silver wedding anniversary. I can still recall looking up and seeing an army of cars full of people coming down that dusty road toward our home. Grama Aarhus had come over earlier. I suppose to help get ready. Among the guests was Clarence--home from Bible school to join us.
Later the Fairview News, our faithful community newspaper said, "This tells something of the high esteem with which this family was held in their former neighborhood."
And when we were settled in at Fairview, again several of us became unsettled to follow God's individual plans for us. To a new culture, new languages and new people. Joe went to India, Ray to Africa, and I to Japan.
And there have been other changes to keep us aware that "This World is Not My
home...I'm just a-passing through."
posted by Lila @ 5:02 PM
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