July 23rd was our 30 year anniversary. THIRTY YEARS! That's one big chunk o time - and I can honestly state that I have absolutely no idea how all those years went by so fast. But I'm genuinely grateful for all those years - grateful to John, our families, friends, our 3 amazing boys, and God.
So what better way to spend your anniversary than in a cemetery - where you're gonna wind up anyway AMIRIGHT?! Okay, just kidding about that part (not really) but we went there with a special purpose in mind. I was on a family mission that was important to me, and felt our anniversary would be a really wonderful day to go. So there we were at the beautiful Inglewood Cemetery.
Several months beforehand, Davy and I had the privilege of singing at a family friend's service, right here at the Inglewood Cemetery. I didn't know until we had arrived back home, that my paternal grandparents were buried in that same cemetery. I've lived in California nearly all my life yet had never known or visited their burial sites. I felt a distinct pull to visit their resting places.
We arrived at the cemetery office and was thrilled that indeed they could locate their exact markers! We set out on our hunt - above is Davy, looking for his great-grandparents.
It was difficult to find them - the cemetery is very old, and over time the grass level had risen and both headstones had been partially covered with grass. It was not only a touching moment to me to find my grandparent's headstones, but it was equally touching to me that Matthew and Davy immediately started clearing them off - pulling out the stray grass and even cleaning of the dirt with the water from their water bottles. Oh, do I love those boys :)
My father's father - William Wayman - came from England. I never met him. He left an impressive legacy behind him in Los Angeles though - many of the oldest "skyscrapers" built in the downtown area were buildings my grandfather helped to build. Because he was small and quick, he could scale all that terribly high, frightening scaffolding like a squirrel - hence his nickname, "Scotty the Squirrel". One of the few things I know about him, and one of my favorite stories :)
Helen Stratton Lange Wayman, was my father's mother, and she came from Perth, Scotland. She was gone long before I was born. All those who knew her called her "Nell". My father said she had a beautiful Scottish brogue and would sometimes speak with a fantastic brogue himself - I wish I had asked him to do it more often. She was in Perth for a visit when she was expecting my father to be born. She broke her leg while there, so he was born in Scotland and had dual citizenship all his life. She was a jolly person - I adore the photo of her that I have because to me she looks like Mrs. Santa Clause :) My father said she loved to bake, and one of her specialties was Scottish shortbread. I found that out in my 20's and taught myself to make it for him whenever I visited.
Of course there was a bit of respectful goofing around at the cemetery as well.....
How could I be upset with boys for climbing trees? Especially when they had been so awesome :)
So that's my 30 year anniversary story. I had hoped for years that we could celebrate our 30th anniversary in Scotland. I'd been there once when I was 19 (I have a photo somewhere, of me kissing the ground in Perth) and always longed to go back. My boys have always felt a kinship with their ancestors too, so I knew it's a place they would love to see. But for now at least, it was not to be. But this was a great substitute. It made me feel closer to my ancestors AND my own family :)
Awww..... look at these wonderful boys :)
And it's a good thing we had such a great time..... cuz this mess is what we had to drive home in :/
~ Helen "Nell" Wayman and William Wayman ~
xoxoxo
