Trembath

John T. Trembath

Thursday is when I try to spend an hour doing family history. This week, I read a personal history about the Trembaths, written by this grandfather, pictured above. The Trembaths are my dad’s ancestors, and they came from Cornwall, England. They were miners and farmers.

The first Trembath to arrive in America came in rebellion against his controlling father. One day, while farming the poor land, he decided he would not stay another day. He abruptly left home, found passage to America, and he continued mining here. Funny detail: the bossy dad and the rest of the family ended up following him to America. 😂 There was no shaking this father.

They mined in the Great Lakes area, then they made their way to California, where they mined for gold in the early 1850s. They found a good gold mine, and it is too bad that they were swindled out of that. So much for riches.

This week’s story reminded me that our Trembath ancestor had hopes for riches through mining, but his family found them in different ways, including growing almonds. What he didn’t know is that America’s greatest riches weren’t in mines or almond groves, but in the Restored Church of Jesus Christ, and the sealing keys. These blessings were possible because of the inspired religious liberty of the land, guaranteed by the Bill of Rights.

The gold that would sustain his posterity wasn’t in the seams of rocks, but in buried gold plates. It wasn’t a goldsmith who would work the gold, but a “Smith,” just the same, who translated the words found in the Book of Mormon. Their great-great-grandchildren would be the first to benefit spiritually from the Restored Church of Jesus Christ, founded in this land.

Our ancestors sought a better life in America, but Heavenly Father had bigger plans than riches or even religious liberty. He had plans to seal this family together through all generations, for eternity, through the atonement of Christ and temple covenants. He wants to give them all He has. It is a blessing to do temple work for these ancestors!

Duckie Race

We have a duckie race in the river each year at the Sanchez reunion. Each person chooses a duck and someone dumps them into the river upstream and we watch them race towards our bridge. We do three heats and pull out the winners for a fourth and final race.

The children and adults line up on the bridge and in the river to watch and cheer for their ducks. It is a coveted job among the tweens and teens to stand in the water beneath the bridge to catch the ducks in nets as they cross the finish line.

Championship trophies are awarded, so these are highly sought-after titles. The jester duck won, which was my Uncle Doug’s duck, thanks to my nephew David, who chose it for him. Doug gave the championship cup to David after an emotional acceptance speech. 😂 Mark’s monkey duck won a heat and was in the final race, along with Richard’s duck. My baby duck didn’t do very well at all. Maybe next year.

June 17 visit

Here are some scenes from Spring Lake as we visited my dad to celebrate Father’s Day one day early. The strong people worked on cutting down dead trees and digging up stumps. My dad took us to lunch at a Mexican restaurant and I left him with a pan of homemade lemon bars.

Workspace

I have a temporary workspace set up in Paige’s empty bedroom where I am sorting through family history documents and photos. I have two main goals: identify individuals in the photos so we can attach them on the FamilySearch website, and assemble a family tree of Great-grandmother Cerie’s Swedish relatives.

I have found a lot of incidental treasures in the process:

  • A collection of squares of toilet paper from various countries throughout Europe from 1957. These vary in quality and composition, ranging from waxed paper to gritty and rough-ridged. Strange souvenirs.
  • A lengthy journal which described a long journey from California to Sweden, only to be almost silent about the relatives they visited there.
  • A photograph of a great-great-great grandmother that I do not recognize. She is merely labeled, “Mormor,” which means maternal grandmother.
  • Menus from the Swedish American Line from 1957 with artwork so beautiful that I framed them to display in my house.
  • Hair samples of loved ones.
  • A scrapbook of sensational stories and pictures from newspapers from 100 years ago, highlighting the cute, macabre, and cultural. I think of this book as “Cerie’s Pinterest boards.”

It is a big puzzle, and I have spent many hours studying, reading, and cataloguing these things. It is incredibly slow work. I have learned that in 100 years, when your great-grandchild is sorting through your photos, she will not know the identities of your close loved ones. Please, label your photos with care, including first and last names and locations.

A celebration for Susanna

It is my mother-in-law’s birthday today, so she gets the first photo in this post.

Susanna is getting married, and this was her bridal shower. I should have taken photos of the rest of the room, but the food was lovely, and the gifts were generous, and there were 3 more tables of guests. I was glad to be included.

There is a place for you here.

We tend to find what we seek, especially in the temple. Today, I took spiritual shelter there, and I lingered for a long time. I was seeking rest in the midst of some concerns, and I noticed there was a comfortable chair waiting for me in the celestial room.

If you need some shelter, there is a chair waiting for you at the temple, even in the waiting area or on the grounds. The Spirit feels the same, wherever you are within the gates. Perhaps you could find your own comfortable spot under the shelter of a temple spire. It’s not about the building, though. Just like a grandmother’s house, the feeling stems from the one who lives there.

For thou hast been a strength to the poor, a strength to the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm, a shadow from the heat, when the blast of the terrible ones is as a storm against the wall.

Isaiah 25:4, KJV