A Place to Call Home (Peaceful reflections in a cemetery)
One of the Lord’s many gifts to me is the close proximity of my family roots. Ft. Collins is only an hour away from me. I feel connected to this place my dad’s family helped to build over a hundred years ago. My roots are here. A good portion of my dad’s family (4 generations back) are buried here. They arrived with so little and yet became a part, not only of building a city but also of a university. Being a bit of a moving nomad, I am so thankful for a place to come and find my footing again. This is a place where I can come and feel grounded again. This is a place I can call ‘home’ in the sense that my roots are here. Better still than a physical heritage, I have a spiritual one as well. My great-great-great grandparents landed in what is now the Laporte/Greely area in 1862. I am unaware of their personal relationships with Jesus. I don’t know about their daughter, Anna, or her husband - the town drunk - either. I do know that their granddaughter- my great-grand