Are there others who have had successful 'dowsing' experiences? Perhaps a few branches
are trying to speak to us at this very moment; thus we must listen closely to what they are trying to say to us.....
THE STRANGERS IN THE BOX
Come, look with me inside this drawer, In this box
I've often seen, At the pictures, black and white, Faces proud, still, serene. I wish I knew the people, These
strangers in the box, Their names and all their memories Are lost among my socks. I wonder what their lives were
like, How did they spend their days? What about their special times? I'll never know their ways. If only someone
had taken time To tell who, what, where, or when, These faces of my heritage Would come to life again. Could this
become the fate Of the pictures we take today? The faces and the memories Someday to be passed away? Make time
to save your stories, Seize the opportunity when it knocks, Or someday you and yours could be The strangers in the
box.
-Anonymous
"Searching For The Voice In My Heart" The Census Taker
It was the first day of census, and all through the land each pollster was ready ... a black book in
hand. He mounted his horse for a long dusty ride, his book and some quills were tucked close by his side. A long
winding ride down a road barely there, toward the smell of fresh bread wafting, up through the air.
The woman was tired, with lines on her face and wisps of brown hair she tucked back into place. She
gave him some water ... as they sat at the table and she answered his questions ...
the best she was able. He asked her of children. Yes, she had quite a few -- the oldest was twenty,
the youngest not two.
She held up a toddler with cheeks round and red; his sister, she whispered, was napping in bed. She
noted each person who lived there with pride, and she felt the faint stirrings of the wee one inside. He noted the sex,
the color, the age... the marks from the quill soon filled up the page.
At the number of children, she nodded her head and saw her lips quiver for the three that were dead. The
places of birth she "never forgot" was it Kansas? or Utah? or Oregon ... or not? They came from Scotland, of that she
was clear, but she wasn't quite sure just how long they'd been here.
They spoke of employment, of schooling and such, they could read some ... and write some ... though really
not much. When the questions were answered, his job there was done so he mounted his horse and he rode toward the sun. We
can almost imagine his voice loud and clear, "May God bless you all for another ten years."
Now picture a time warp ... its' now you and me as we search for the people on our family tree. We
squint at the census and scroll down so slow as we search for that entry from long, long ago. Could they only imagine
on that long ago day that the entries they made would effect us this way?
If they knew would they wonder at the yearning we feel and the searching that makes them so increasingly
real. We can hear if we listen the words they impart through their blood in our veins and their voice in our heart.
---by Darlene StevensPublished in Genealogy Bulletin No. 39 page 28, Spokane, WA.
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