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A JOURNEY BETWEEN THE PAST AND THE PRESENT Little did I know when I was invited for this week's reunion of PWP's and the joint effort of building a home for the Habitat for Humanity that I would embark on a journey between my past and my present. Being a part of the activities of this week has blessed my life with the remembrance of my grandparents and two specific memories that I have of them. While leveling and raising the first wall of the house someone asked me if I knew how to use a leveler, hence, came my first memory of my grandfather. At the age of five I helped my grandfather build a poker house in his back yard. The memory was so vivid I had tears in my eyes as the first wall was being raised. In the summer of 1995 circumstances in my life were such that I lived those months with my Grandfather. At the age of twelve my grandmother taught me to crochet. This is one gift that the parkinson's disease has not robbed me of. During this particular summer my grandfather gave me my grandmother's yarn basket. My grandmother had already been taken from me by cancer in 1986. My life was so busy with daily living that I never looked inside the yarn basket. My grandfather passed away in 1997. It wasn't until 1999 that I ever had the courage to look inside the yarn basket. At the very bottom tucked safely away was an afghan my grandmother had started. Over the last months I have leisurely picked up the afghan and worked on it. I remembered a conversation that I had with my grandmother before she died. I had not yet received the diagnosis of parkinson's disease when my grandma died. She told me that someday the gifts the Lord had given me would be used for the good. It was my desire this week to give a blessing to the wonderful couple that the house for humanity was being built. This couple so inspired me with their daily presence while watching the progress of their home. The Lord reminded me of the afghan. I am a firm believer that things in life happen for a reason. Each day after leaving the building site I would go home and work on the afghan. As I finally finished it a great peace come over me. I cried so many tears. Tears of past memories and the creation of new ones. When I look at the afghan I am reminded of Joseph's coat of many colors. And the scripture of Phillipians 4:11: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. If it had not been for the parkinson's disease or the meeting of such wonderful people who also have parkinson's and the building of this home I may not have had such wonderful memories brought forth in the clarity of which they came. You may ask why would I wish to give away something that holds such dear memories. Being a part of this week's activities and knowing what each one of you has brought into my life ; how can I selfishly keep the afghan when it may bring warmth and covering to such a dear and lovely couple? May the afghan warm this couple as much as my memories, both old and new, warms me. Sandra Norris "Faith is the daring of the soul to go farther than it can see."