Updated: Sep 6, 2022
Some people do family history as a hobby, and that is fine. I felt impressed to share how it is not a hobby for me. It never was. I grew up getting to know my extended family: Great Aunt Cat, Great Uncle Liggon, Great Aunt Eppsyline, Uncle Larry, Uncle Willie, Uncle Ted, and the list goes on and on. Then there are my ancestors. I am thinking about my dad, Robert Foster (1983-1988).
My Dad
He died at fifty years old in 1988. He is the person in the photograph with his hand on is head. He is giving advice. Even today I love and miss him. Those feelings do not go away. He taught me very valuable lessons. The most important happened practically every week when I had to the dishes.
He would be sitting in the dining room. He would say if you would get a loan for X amount of dollars at X percent in thirty years how much would you pay? I was the only person in my family that he would do that to. I was in high school. I would try to give him the right answer. You see, he could teach me. He built houses, and never had a loan.
Hope
That was not the only thing, but that story will suffice. Just imagine when he died and how I felt. There was an empty hole. I knew about this scripture which is the last two verses of Malachi:
5 ΒΆ Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord:
6 And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the earth with a curse.
I came to myself. My dad is not dead. I have the opportunity to see him again. What joy that gives me! For me this is much more than a hobby.