I’ve never been one to leap off the high dive into the
postage stamp pool far below. I’m the one who creeps into the pool from the
edge, wincing with the shock of cold until I recognise it’s best to just launch
off the side and fully immerse.
So it’s uncharacteristic for me to have dived into the
ancestry glory hole, but I’m eager to find out a bit more about the line stretching
back through my German great-grandparents. I’ve suggested a reccy trip to Hamburg
in March and can’t progress that until I am sure that there are nuggets of
information to be gleaned from such a foray. I’ve given myself a week to make
that decision.
I’m finding it both fun and frustrating as I flounder on the
website I’ve chosen to join.
Jesus knew his roots. He didn’t dwell in them, but they
possibly served as a launchpad confirming his human credentials which set him
apart as someone very special. I am so grateful that spiritually I am grafted
into his family tree, and in his eyes, I am someone very special. How amazing is that?
My own tree is pretty full of detail on three of the
branches, stretching back centuries. So many of the people there, though, are
just names to me.
None of us is just a name to Jesus. He created each of us in
our mothers’ wombs and he knows our thoughts and what we are going to say
before we even say it. How amazing is that?!
It’s really the only family tree I am passionate about being
on!!
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