St. Valentine was/
Roman, so I did proxy*/
work for Italians.
Posts Tagged ‘genealogy’
St. Valentine was/
His name is Willem,
not William or Wilhelm;
Dutch, not Deutsch.
Even in a region
there was only one,
who came that day
The edifice was kept open for him,
and for me.
Servants of the Lord waited on him,
and on me,
because even though
I don’t know him,
He knows him.
His name is Willem.
He with a capital H
knows his sheep.
He knows him.
Here is the back story behind this poem (I wrote a friend about it).
I went to the Chicago Temple (Temple of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) the other day… drove 2.5 hours by myself (from central Wisconsin, not bad when you think of people who travel weeks to get to a temple!), did two sessions. The first session I took one of my own names through, and there were 4 men and 4 women in the session. VERY small session.
Then, when I finished the session, I saw that I had enough time to do another session, so asked if I could. The workers at the Temple said “Sure! Can you take this name through?” So I did. They held up the session for me (it was at noon on Tuesday), and as I got into the room, they said “Just a minute, we have to go find a Sister to join you.” I said “I’m not married”. They said “That’s fine. We’ll go get one of the Temple workers to join you.”
In other words, I WAS THE ONLY PATRON IN THE SESSION. And I felt REALLY STRONGLY the importance of “the One”. Willem Huisman, from Gelderland, Netherlands. SO I was the man in the session. An older married sister, a Temple worker, was also in the Session. Then, for the prayer, 6 temple workers came in to join us. I cried when they came in, thinking “Wow. This is REALLY important! This is really about “The One”.” When the prayer was done, the workers left.
SO I have now been in the SMALLEST temple session possible. Me as the only patron. Wow.
They departed from Bremen
to seek a new land’s safe haven
on the Sovereign Ship Leipzig:
a two funnel/two mast rig.
In “stearage” the small family came,
Just five with misspelled Geerdts name;
One suitcase each as they came ashore
under Fort McHenry’s watch in Baltimore.
With little more than their love, hope and trust
they paved the way. Happy Valentine’s to us!
My great grandfather/
circled Amos, asked: “Where are/
Prophets?” He now knows.
Temple Work Goes Both Ways (or) Ministering Angels Minister To Earth Angels: Revolutionary ImproVerse HaikuJuly 22, 2015
They minister to/
us, because we minister/
to them: A fair trade.
If you research and think of/
how the Nordlanders kept records/
in Stave churches/
as they island hopped;/
had the idea/
to put the Boks together/
the year before I landed;
How my friend’s dad/
knew right where/
Grandpa’s tiny nativity village was /
‘cuz he’d skied there;
How a young pastor/
debarked the ferry/
the same second I did/
after 2 years in the Holy Land;
How his elementary teacher/
bought the same house/
my great-grandmother’s sister owned/
and knew all my relatives;
How those aged Norsk cousins spoke/
such a strong, ancient Dialekt/
that I, Schwyzer-Duetsch schwetzen,/
could understand them/
(and they, Kojak and Rockford TV taught/
got American me, from the heart, baby!)
How much we got done, laughing,/
sharing information and old photos,/
in 2 short Norwegian November days,/
knowing it was a tongue gift;
How those Lind books landed/
in the hands of someone typing/
80 words per minute/
10 miles from a Temple;
How they held me up, /
typing until 2 a.m.,/
and woke me at 4:30 a.m., /
to do their work;
How, when the machine was broken/
and the records lost,/
the data was saved, protected,/
rediscovered and decoded;
If you think about/
and comprehend how all that,/
and more, happened,/
then you’ll know how and why/
those old fiskers/
never let me rest/
until they were,/
As they go up and/
serve in His holy house, they/
shall find peace and rest.
they shall rest and find peace.