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Saturday, August 28, 2010

Luss, Scotland

I felt my roots from the very beginning in Scotland.  My skin loved the moist air and rain.  I was wondering if I was Scottish or Irish.  So I asked the taxi cab driver what he thought.  He said if McPherson is spelled with Mc instead of Mac, you are probably Scotch Irish. Many Scots left for Ireland because of war between the clans or other reasons.  When they went to Ireland they changed their name to Mc.

 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.

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