My heritage

Today is Pioneer Day.  It's only a holiday in Utah but I grew up close enough to Utah and with enough pioneer ancestry to think of it as a day of significance.

July 24th is the day the Mormon pioneers arrived in the Salt Lake Valley.  They had been driven from their homes and sought refuge in a harsh desert no one else wanted.

Today I think about my great grandma, Arvella Jaynes.  She told me family stories that made my ancestors real.

I feel like I've mentioned her on my blog before but I can't remember so here I go again.  She was my Grandma with the Brown Eyes.  Every time I saw her when I was little, she told me to take care of her brown eyes.  She is one of the first people I want to see when I go to heaven.

She had a hard life, her father died when she was three, she was widowed fairly young and she lost her only son, my grandpa, too early.  Her mother, Sarah, struggled to raise her three little daughters on her own before remarrying.

Sarah's mother was Henrietta.

Henrietta crossed the plains with the Mormon pioneers.  My grandma told me stories of her grandmother Henrietta.  She was five when she made the trek.  She would go to sleep hungry some nights.  My grandma would tell us that whenever we didn't want to eat something.  "Henrietta cried for a crust of bread."

My great grandma was all about decreasing your carbon footprint before it was a thing.  Waste not, want not was her mantra.

Another ancestor, Margaret Gardner, crossed the plains pregnant.  She gave birth 9 days after she arrived in the Salt Lake Valley.  The Salt Lake Valley was nothing more than a inhospitable sagebrush desert surrounding a lake too salty for anything other than brine shrimp.

I think of Margaret Gardner when I remind myself that I can do hard things.

Awhile ago Adam told me he was impressed with how much I could get done.  I told him it was because I was from pioneer stock.  They were hardy people, that's true.  They also called down the powers of heaven for help.

That may be the best lesson I can learn from them.  Work hard.  Then pray.  Then pray some more.

I love old pictures.  I love tracing cheekbones:

Eric Nelson, Arvella's father.  He was born in Kristianstadts Lan Sweden to Matts Swen Nelson and Elna Akeson

Ellen Arvella, born in Crescent, Utah to Eric Nelson and Sarah Jane Dowding

Braeden Linn, born to Thelma and Adam, in Provo, Utah

I'm pretty sure when Braeden left heaven to come to me, Arvella told him to take care of her brown eyes (and her cheekbones).