Family History

 Researching our family history takes up each Thursday morning during lockdown- it's been on the 'to do' list for some time, and has surfaced again. Some of the research, once we get into the rhythm of how to do it, is straightforward, but some connections Mary wants to make refuse to give up their secrets. So far. We live in hope that further research will yield answers, although we are not convinced. The release of the 1921 census results, next year, may provide some clues, but will also- it is my confident prediction- leave us partly in the dark. 

I come from a long line of cotton workers and other sorts of skilled workmen on the male side. Reflecting the times, the women were servants and shop assistants, when not bearing and rearing children. All these, their personalities, their prejudices, their successes and failures, their moves, their hardships, end up in me. Scraps of their humanity make me. 

The same is true of the faith; the scraps of childhood hymns, half-remembered, the people who helped shape my beliefs, the scriptures which have come alive over the years, the choices I made in life, end up in the rag-bag of stuff I call faith, held together with the glue of commitment to God in what I hope reflects outwards and upwards his love to me.

It's not neat, probably not logical, and probably won't ever be. It's a work in progress, and I shall always be, in this life anyway, partly in the dark. But partly in the light, too.