Saturday, August 28, 2010
My grandmother always said we were Scotch Irish but I didn't know what it meant. We stumbled across this amazing little town near Loch Lomand, called Luss. I was reading the history and the first martyr of Scotland died sharing his faith. He came from Ireland by boat to share the Gospel. I was a little surprised because Saint Patrick came from England to share the Gospel with the Irish. He had been captured as a slave by the Irish when he was sixteen and escaped at the age of 21. Instead of staying bitter he walked in forgiveness and returned to the same country that held him as a slave. The Irish repaid in love when they sent a missionary to Scotland.
I went inside the beautiful protestant church that was built by a man who had lost his dad in a boating accident. He built the church in remembrance of him. It had colorful stain glass windows and the ceiling was built in shape of a boat to remember his dad. I looked up and there was a stain glass window with the name McPherson on it.
"I am Scottish," I said with enthusiasm.
When I went home my m om got out the genealogy and Daniel McPherson came to the United States in the early 1700's from Scotland. It was so fun to feel apart of history and learn about your ancestors.