Don’t Call Me Strong

Yes. Exactly.

No offense, but you know what I don\"t want to be known as?

A good example. A strong person.

What? Does that not make sense to you? Let me try to explain...

No one can possibly imagine the pressure that comes along with being known as a "good example". No one.

I want to be known for ME. Not for what my circumstances have made me. I want to be known for being a happy, friendly person. I want people to be happier when they encounter me than they were before they saw me.

When we part, I absolutely don\"t want their thoughts to be, "Wow. Sandy is such a good example. She is so strong."

I would rather their thoughts be more along the lines of, "Wow. It was so good to see Sandy. She is so pleasant to be around and always makes me feel good."

Now, I realize that being known as that kind of girl comes along with pressure too. But it is a completely different kind of pressure. It is pressure I choose. Not pressure that others bestow upon me. It is freeing...

Too many times, I have thought of others as "strong women" and "good examples" too. Those poor women. I wish I had thought of them as themselves instead.

Because I am ME. Sandy. The girl who truly likes to make others feel good and be happy. The person that tries to be optimistic, even when she is feeling crappy. Someone who is a good worker, and tries to be a good friend. The gal who is always telling on herself and putting funny things on Facebook about herself. The Mom who tries as hard as she can to teach her kids the right ways. The Mama Bear who would do anything to protect her children.

I don\"t want to be known as Sandy, the divorced woman that has to be a good example and always keeps her head up and is strong. 

Because that is just too much pressure, and it makes me feel like a failure...

Family Heritage

I've thought a lot lately about heritage... about where I came from. 

Now, obviously, I believe that we are all descendants of Adam and Eve. And then, I know that the earth was destroyed in Noah's time, and that our ancestors are the ones that were on the ark. But what about after that?

How in the world did I get here, from there?

Recently, I got interested in ancestry, and ancestry.com is my new best friend.

I know, I know. It is almost impossible to completely validate everything I find on there. After you go back so many years, the only things to rely on are historical records like immigration and census records. 

But man, it sure does give me a thrill to "hit" on something, and discover yet one more link to the past. So far, in one far-reaching branch of my family tree, I found records as far back as 600 A.D. 

600 A.D.!! People, that is pretty dang close to Jesus' time! 

JESUS! 

Now that is exciting. Ideally, I would LOVE to be able to trace my roots back to Noah. Is that realistic? No. There are so many records that just weren't kept back then. It will never happen. But, the thrill of the chase keeps me searching... you just never know what you might find.

My great-grandmother always insisted that she was descended from royalty. Always. Now, you can imagine that we all wondered where her riches were if that was true...

Guess what?! She was right. I found, way back like 8 or 9 generations, that her family WAS royalty. Her many greats grandfather was a Duke. And I discovered where he abdicated his right to the throne and married an Indian princess! From then on... no more of our family was considered "royalty", and sadly, the big money must have stopped there. 

Oh, what we would do for love! 

(Don't get me wrong, I would have done the same thing for love!)

Anyway... this past weekend we went off on a little jaunt and "re-visited" some of the past. Here are some pictures of some places that still mean a lot to me to this day:

My Papaw and Nanaw's house in Henryetta

Another view of the same house 

The house I was born in (and Kim and Greg spent a lot of their childhood in) at Henryetta

My Grandpa & Grandma Morris' house in Pleasant Valley 

The red barn (shop building) on their property 

And of course, the "House that Built Me"

And here are some pictures of the final resting place of some loved ones... gone, but never forgotten...

My Great-Grandfather (Papa), Jessie Edmonds

My older brother, Chris 

My Grandfather (Papaw), Herb Wittman 

My Grandmother, Irene Wittman 

My Dad, James Morris 

My Grandpa & Grandma Morris, James Rodney Morris and Mary Albina Durkeweicz Morris 

My Grandpa, James Rodney Morris 

My Dad, James Howard Morris 

And there are many other beautiful souls that have gone on, that I would love to eventually have pictures of their headstones. 

I don't want to ever forget just where I came from... or where I'm going. And I'm just going to point out now, that I really am royalty. I'm a child of the King. 

And no one can ever take that away from me... even if you can't find it on ancestry.com!