Rejoice for your names have been recorded in heaven. Luke 10:20

Frustrated, I kept looking searching and asking the local historians, to no avail. Nothing. Absolutely nothing but her death was written down.

“How could that be?” I asked.

Doing their best to find an answer, they, too, could find nothing on Grandma Julia herself. A wealth of information on many other members of my family, but not her. Pictures of the farms once belonging to my family, many newspaper clippings announcing the many wonderful occurrences in the family, such as my great uncles’ graduation from Yale University, another great uncle's employment at Cornell University as an Agricultural Professor, and his heroics in World War II. Also included was  Uncle Ralph’s writings.

 The Underground railroad connection was there in the vast folder of my family’s history there in the Finger Lakes New York area. I pondered as to whether they worked with Harriet Tubman in Auburn New York, where I had been residing.

No mention of Julia. Only a brief mention of Grandma Gabriel, and a mention of her being married to Ezra Gabriel.

But what happened to Grandma Julia, my father’s biological mother?

As I gave utterance to all involved in the search for answers to appease my curiously, some clues were voiced. “Oh, she was an alcoholic? Oh, that may explain it. Back then, they would disown people like that, especially women. A disgrace to the family, many were even locked away in psych hospitals”.

I contacted my cousin who also has an interest in our family's history. He and I both had the same thought process. Something happened to my grandmother in her early years to have turned her into a bottle chaser. No young girl, or boy, for that matter, ever wants to grow up chasing a bottle of booze, causing such destruction.

My grandmother died at 38. Young. Too young to have left such a trail of devastation.

Bitterness, resentment, a legacy that has destroyed the family that came after her with the legacy of addictions and abuse.

My own struggle with alcoholism created a whirlwind of destruction and but for the grace of God, I,  too, would have died way too early.

Walking the road of recovery has not been easy. He has sustained me, picked me up every time I fell back into the pits of despair and self-medicating.

I do not know if Grandma Julia’s name will be written in the Lambs book of Life, or not. I do not know how God judges those that were abused as children and turned to the bottle or needle to numb the pain. That is not for me to say. He is fair and gracious. But, as I walk closer to His ways and His will, I am claiming His promises that He will never leave me nor forsake me. His forgiveness is through His bloodshed on the cross, cleansing me from all the debauchery I committed during that time of living life as an active addict.

The following is my personal journey to the Heart of the Father….

These writings I share with you, reader, is to  beckon you to join me in becoming

A Water Walking Warrior!

Follow Him, The Way, The Truth and The Light of the World

Yeshua The Messiah!