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Sun, 19 Dec 1999 20:56:31 -0800 (PST)
Resent-Date: Sun, 19 Dec 1999 20:56:31 -0800 (PST)
From: "Dave Wells" <dwells(a)zekes.com>
Old-To: <WELLS-L(a)rootsweb.com>
Subject: Re: [WELLS-L] Feed the hungry from listowner
Date: Sun, 19 Dec 1999 21:56:26 -0700
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a little off topic but, certainly understandable at this time of year. The
ONLY reason I'm commenting is to point out that this is NOT a hoax. Checked
it out at miningco and it is legitimate so, enjoy.
Seasons Greetings
Dave Wells
>
>All you do is click a button and somewhere in the world some hungry
>person gets a meal to eat, at no cost to you.
>
>The food is paid for by corporate sponsors (who gain advertising in the
>process because you see their logo).
>
>All you do is go to the site and click. But you're allowed only one
>click a day. So spread the word to others. Visit this site daily - and
>pass the word.
>
>http://www.thehungersite.com
==== WELLS Mailing List ====
To contact Listowner,
Send email to:
dwells(a)zekes.com
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>
> A CHRISTMAS STORY
> by Rian B. Anderson
> ------------------------------------
>
> Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who
> squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But
> for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all
> outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes
> from giving, not from receiving.
>
> It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling
> like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough
> money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted so bad that year for Christmas.
>
> We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just
> figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible. So
> after supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of
> the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still
> feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to
> read scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up and
> went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all
> the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing
> in self-pity.
>
> Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there
> was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's
> cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting
> the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for
> no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores,
> and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not
> on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging
> one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my
> boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious
> smile as I opened the door to leave the
> house. Something was up, but I didn't know what. Outside, I became even
> more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already
> hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we
> were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could
> tell. We never hitched up the big sled unless we were going to haul a big
> load. Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed
> up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When
> I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the
> woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high
> sideboards," he said. "Here, help me.
>
> The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to
> do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to
> do would be a lot bigger with the high sideboards on.
> When we had exchanged the sideboards Pa went into the woodshed
> and came out with an armload of wood---the wood I'd spent all summer
> hauling down from the mountain, and then all fall sawing into blocks and
> splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I
> asked,"what are you doing?"
>
> You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow
> Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year
> or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight.
> Sure, I'd been by, but so what? "Yeah," I said, "why?" "I rode by just
> today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile
> trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood,Matt." That was all he
> said and then he turned and went back into the
> woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the
> sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull
> it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke
> house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He
> handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait.When he
> returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a
> smaller sack of something in his left hand. "What's in the little sack?"
> I asked. "Shoes. They're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny
> sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this
> morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be
> Christmas without a little candy."
>
> We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence.
> I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by
> worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of
> what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw
> into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and
> flour,so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why
> was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of
> this?Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us. It shouldn't have been
> our concern. We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and
> unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour
> and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid
> voice said, "Who is it?"
>
> "Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt. Could we come in for a
> bit?" Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket
> wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and
> were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly
> gave off any heat at all. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally
> lit the lamp. "We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set
> down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her
> the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the
> shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each
> of the children---sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I
> watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling
> and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She
> looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come
> out. "We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said, then he turned to
> me and said, "Matt, go bring enough in to last for awhile. Let's get that
> fire up to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when
> I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and,
> much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind
> I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their
> mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks and so much
> gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak. My heart swelled within
> me and a joy filled my soul that I'd never known before. I had given at
> Christmas many times before, but never
> when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving
> the lives of these people. I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's
> spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a
> piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably
> hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God
> bless you," she said. "I know the Lord himself has sent you. The children
> and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to us."
> In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears
> welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms
> before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was
> probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the
> earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for
> Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
> Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was
> amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to
> get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the
> Lord would make sure he got the right sizes. Tears were running down
> Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave.
> Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung
> to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their pa,
> and I was glad that I still had mine.
>
> At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs.
> wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner
> tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man
> can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be
> by over to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones
> around
> again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the
> youngest. My two older brothers and two older sisters were all married
> and had moved away.
>
> Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't
> have to say, "'May the Lord bless you,' I know for certain that He will."
> Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I
> didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and
> said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been
> tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that
> rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who
> owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square.Your
> ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that
> rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that. But on the
> way I saw little
> Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny
> sacks and I knew what I had to do. So, Son, I spent the money for shoes
> and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."
>
> I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I
> understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Just then the
> rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot
> more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant
> smiles of her three children. For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any
> of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering
> brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa
> had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best
> Christmas of my life.
> Twas The Day Before Yesterday
>
> TWAS the day before yesterday and all through the branches,
> NOT a name to be found, none of my ancestors.
>
> THE Journals and Bibles were dusty and worn,
> WHY should we care, these kinfolk are gone.
>
> THE pictures of children and family, long ago dead,
> ARE scattered, crinkled, and crammed under beds.
>
> DAD in his chair, and I with a book,
> HAD just settled back to give the TV a look.
>
> WHEN out on the street there arose such a clatter,
> I sprang to my feet to see what was the matter.
>
> ON the way to the window I tripped with a crash,
> I tore open the curtains and looked through the glass.
>
> THE sun in the sky was nowhere in sight,
> THE clouds were so gray, it could have been night.
>
> WHEN what to my wondering eyes should appear,
> THE Mailman with packages, letters and cards of good cheer.
>
> THE driver was grumbling while sorting his letters,
> I knew in a moment, things had to get better.
>
> THE size of one letter stood out from them all,
> A distant cousin was asking about family, one and all.
>
> THE names of Grandpa and Grandma, Great Grandparents all,
> NEXT came my Father, my Brother, and Uncle Paul.
>
> FROM cousins and uncles to aunts and nephews,
> NIECES and in-laws, just to name a few.
>
> SO through the many journals and photos, and stuff I possessed,
> MY search for my ancestors slowly progressed.
>
> WHILE up the family tree I gradually climbed,
> MY ancestors names, I was seeking to find.
>
> UPON that tree I have carved many a name,
> THE branches of which, will never be the same.
>
> THE tree is now filled with many I've found,
> BUT in the search for others, now I am bound.
>
> THE ancestors whose names, I have written with love,
> THE Lord has gathered to take to His Father above.
>
> WITH so many names yet to be carved on that tree,
> I have little time to waste on games and TV.
>
> GATHERING names, photos, histories and places,
> REQUIRES a lot of love, patience, and God's good graces.
>
> SOME were Farmers, Soldiers & such, Mothers & Fathers
> who struggled much.
> SOME were Settlers, who traveled far, some Adventures,
> who followed the stars.
>
> SOME were rich, but most were poor, they came by ship,
> seeking more.
> SOME died young, others old, many their stories yet untold.
>
> I cried when I thought of those brothers and sisters,
> FOR I am who I am, thanks to my ancestors.
>
> MY family is but one branch on the Tree of Life,
> A tree that grew strong through toil and strife.
>
> ALONE, I'm just a bare twig or a stub,
> TOGETHER we build a Family Tree of Love
>
>
>
> (Written by
> Linnie Vanderford Poyneer
> one night after a long day of research)
This was on MIDDLETON-L
James Click m Elizabeth Middleton 12 Oct 1819 Madison Co. AL>>
>From a search the Alabama Marriage database at:
http://www.ancestry.com/ancestry/search/4192a.htm
Once an ancestor is located in the index, visit the Alabama Department of
Archives and History's page with county by county information for requesting
the original records at: http://www.archives.state.al.us/referenc/vital.html