My Pilgrimage

My first post.  

I have grown up around many cultures.  I have loved learning about them and seeing the traditions and heritage that these cultures bring into the communities I have lived in.  I have always had a deep longing to identify with a culture and to call it my own. To be able to say, this... this is my culture.  

This week was spring break.  I spent much of the week digging into my roots.  My Welsh roots to be exact.  Roots that I don't know much about. The roots from my Father's side of which he doesn't know much about either.  

My Mother's side of the family is Scottish.  I feel proud of my Scottish side because I have grown up hearing the stories of the ancestors.  Finding out about a "castle" that is in our family from way back.  Seeing the tartan, and hearing the pipes play. But I have heard very little about my Father's Welsh ancestry.

I am on a pilgrimage.  A pilgrimage to Wales.  To a little town in the Welsh countryside called Knighton.  3 generations of my ancestors lived there.  1 of those generations left and settled in the U.S. as part of the Mormon migration, specifically to a little town in Utah called Nephi where 3 more generations lived.  

So, this journey to Wales is a journey to discover the ancestors, the land, the people, and the traditions, as I uncover the past and listen to the voices of the ancestors whisper to me about love, and loss, and traditions and me.  

I am looking forward to the journey.