My Mom, Beverly Gean Sellers Lushbaugh

BGIn memoriam of Beverly Gean Sellers Lushbaugh, my wonderful mom; who went to be with her Lord, June 9, 1990.

“UNAWARE of Reality”

Driving to the hospital unaware of reality around me;
Seeing freeway signs yet uncomprehending their meaning.
My mind races ahead to you…
What will I find when I get there?

There you are in the emergency room behind a temporary curtain
That keeps nothing private from anyone.
They come in wearing white coats, white shoes
And pull and prod and probe.
What will they find within you?

You writhe in pain that is relentless
And I can do nothing to help you.
I call for the nurse, the doctor;
They give you medication but it doesn’t help.
They order morphine and more tests.
What will they find with them?

Day after day goes by, six to be exact.
I drive back and forth listening to music
That I choose to sing along with
To keep my mind focused on Him.
Friends come and go, bring gifts, and call.
Flowers arrive with special messages of love
And loved ones sit and talk and wait. What will we find here tomorrow?
I tell you things I have always told you since I was a little girl:
“I love you, Mom. You’re the best Mom in the whole world!”
We recall moments of yesteryear
And laugh and cry and we
Reluctantly say good-bye.
I release you to my Creator and Father.
What will He find there?

Awakened suddenly.   No reason.
I am compelled to get up, get dressed, and get to you.
I am not the only one; dad is there, too.
Yes, you are there, but is this really you?
Pale, frail, unaware of reality around you,
Eyes closed; a rattle in your breathing now.

And while we are watching you,
The Lord sends an Angel for you.
We were unaware of the true reality around us,
Yet you saw it clearly with your eyes tightly closed!
Ushered into Heaven by the Lord Himself;
What will you find there?  Peace!
And I will find my Mother.
By Pamela Stephens, June, 1990 b-g-21


An Anniversary

MyDadDad, it’s been seven years since your last day here on earth, December 26, 2006.   Some days it seems like a long time ago, and on others a short time.

I wish your last few years had been happier, healthier ones, especially the last one.  If only some of the circumstances had been different, perhaps you’d have come to live at our house–but you chose to stay; it was what you thought was the easy thing.  If you had known what was ahead, would you have changed your mind? Guess we’ll never know.  I am glad now that you are with mom and I can be assured you are happy, healthy and safe.

In the end you didn’t know the lengths “she” went to in keeping you from us, but it was hard.  After traveling half a country to get there, and arranging a time to visit, no answer at the door.  When we were “received” she had hospice inject a sedative to keep you “unresponsive.”  But at the sound of my voice, your eyes bounce and open, searching for me.  Thank you, Dad—for letting me say good-bye for the last time and for responding to my voice.  It’s another Voice you hear now and He is the Good Shepherd and we know His Voice.  You are loved and missed, but we shall see you again, and for that I am deeply grateful.

A Mother’s Day Tribute

by Pamela Stephens

It’s that time of year again for telling the one who loved us,

protected us, and nourished us,

that we love them…

and I do.

It’s that time of year again for Mother-Daughter teas

with new floral dresses,

to watch Mother-Daughter fashion shows

and eat petit-fours while we sip lemonade…

and I will.

It’s that time of year again for buying special cards

that reflect those all too often unspoken feelings

for those gracious hands that sent us off,

picked us up, encouraged us, patted us

on the head and told us, ‘You can do it’….

but I won’t.

It’s that time of year again for daughters who have mothers;

for those who have living mothers and daughters;

it’s that time of year again for others….

but not for us.

It’s that time of year again for my girls and for me.

We will go to the Mother-Daughter tea

in our floral dresses and sip lemonade and eat petit-fours,

but it won’t be the same, never again, at this time of year

without you.

But no matter what time of year,

I will always appreciate you for the mother you were for me.

No matter what time of year,

I will always remember your tenderness and love…

And I do.

It’s that time of year for saying, “I love you, Mom.”

And I still do, and I always will….

Happy Mother’s Day Forever!


(*Mom died of breast cancer at age 62)BG

The Photo in My Mind

It is a photo I can still see in my mind, and in it:

You are standing next to your son, calling him “Sonny” or “Junior”– which he has always hated. Your hair tightly curled; your lips exaggerated red like my dolls. I remember the rosy cheeks—almost perfect rounds and the strong perfume which was overpowering to me. You were loud and laughed when dad seemed embarrassed. Your hands waving in the air—your brightly painted nails interrupting my listening. You were a mystery then, but the answers have come over time to the questions I asked in my mind. I don’t have a copy of that photo, but nevertheless, it is indelibly engraved.

We moved far away from where you were, and so this is my only “in person” memory of you. But I have formed you and filled in the blanks where no one has given answers. Was it something you regretted, not having us close? You had already separated yourself early on in my dad’s life, and in your place he had grandparents. They loved him, but could never replace an absent mother and father. Was it what you wanted for him, or was it what you wanted for yourself, that took over?

All that is left– is to piece together the remembrances for my answers—how would he have answered me about it all? He never spoke of it, but I think I know.get-attachment-3

Pennsylvania–Cameron County

8064406045_c3c07f93b5_o Cameron County, Pennsylvania– these photos of that area around where some of my first ancestors settled. In fact, they named part of the waterways there, Lushbaugh Run. Henry Lushbaugh, who is my Patriot soldier of the Revolutionary War soldier fought bravely for our young country’s freedom from the British.

Henry was born in 1751 in Pennsylvania and enlisted in Sunbury, Pennsylvania in 1776. His company was in command of Captain John Harris, 12th Pennsylvania Regiment, commanded by Colonel Cook. Henry saw many battles, such as Ash Swamp and Piscataway. He served for three years and was discharged near Philadelphia.   Henry and his brother George both enlisted at the same time, and their service records are one numeral apart.  George however died before applying and receiving a pension.  After the edict was passed for pensions, beginning in 1819, Henry applied and was granted his pension.

Henry’s family (sons and families) moved from Pennsylvania to Ohio, and then some on to Indiana and Michigan.  Henry was one of the sons of Johann Conrad Lorsbach (Loshbaugh/Lushbaugh–variations of which the name changed spellings).  We believe they were from the Lampertheim area of Hesse/Germany.  Henry’s descendants would later donate land to Notre Dame in South Bend, Indiana for the convent, it is believed.   While Henry wasn’t wealthy, he had land from the bounty land of the Revolutionary War dispersements.  Henry’s descendants continued to be honorable civilians, volunteering for the Civil War, and all the other wars that followed.

Because of Henry Lushbaugh and so many others, who’s fathers escaped their homeland because of religious persecution, I can live in a wonderful country, free to worship the Lord I love.  Thank you, Henry and George–and all who have served!

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Today Would be his Birthday…


get-attachment-1Today would be my dad’s birthday, April 12th (1927).  These photos are ones that are my favorites of him as a young man.  But, they do tell you much about my dad!  The first one of him on the steps to his grandparent’s home: he was a meticulous dresser; dapper and stylish–yet a slightly mischievous attitude!  His hair was always “just so” and definitely not to be messed with!


My dad was raised by his fully Polish grandparents on Altgeld Street in South Bend, Indiana.  Though his mother was alive, she didn’t live with them; she was divorced from my dad’s father when dad was only six months old.  She visited home and brought various friends home to meet her parents and son.  My dad loved his grandparents and had a great relationship with them.  His grandma was always slipping him a few dollars and his grandpa taught him how to maintain a home and yard.


Dad, George Wade Lushbaugh, was called Junior by his grandparents, or Georgie, but his mom always called him “sonny” which he never liked.  He was an only child, which he didn’t like but he had a cousin named Jack who was six months younger than dad, and they were probably as close or closer than a brothers would be.  Dad had many stories about Jack and their escapades; he loved hanging out at Jack’s house and riding bikes together.  Jack’s dad, Virgil Marriott, was good to include my dad in family events.


My dad wasn’t educated in college, in fact, as an adult I learned that he quit High School to join the navy during WWII.  However, that isn’t to say he wasn’t intelligent.  Eventually, after moving our family to Arizona, and then California–dad went to work for Howard Hughes at Hughes Aircraft in California.  He worked hard, enjoyed what he did, and was proud of the fact that he was part of the Surveyor Program–a satellite system that circled the earth.  He taught himself math, trigonometry and calculus.  He was good at what he did.


Perhaps because he was so good at math, when I was learning math in elementary school and wasn’t getting it—that is why he was so frustrated with  why I couldn’t understand it! We spent many an evening going over and over times tables, etc.  My forte was English, spelling and all the other subjects!  Sorry, dad!  (I don’t struggle so much anymore, but it still isn’t my cup of tea!)  Thankfully, my husband is great at figures!


My dad loved working in the yard and ours was always the best yard on the block!  Looking back on it now, I am sure it was therapeutic for him after long hours and overtime at work with complex issues involving aerospace!  I loved it when he let me help him in the yard! But dad never wanted anyone to cut the corners where the grass (dichondra) would meet the sidewalk on their if you were the kid that he saw do it, you were going to get told!  The dichondra was as thick as a carpet, and it was very soft and inviting!  So my friend and I loved to spread a blanket under the tree and page through Teen Magazines while my dad was at work!  I was regrettably amazed that after putting away  the blanket, the impressions of our young teen bodies were still visible on the now “scrunched” dichondra!  Dad wasn’t too pleased about that when he got home either!  But mom pled my case–“George, it’s just grass!”  The next time I wanted to spread a blanket in our yard, I learned that I could use the leaf rake to nearly eliminate the evidence!


As a grandfather, my dad loved coming up to our home in the mountains at Christmas time.  It was pretty much a certainty we’d have snow, and he loved to play Santa for my girls!  One year, we Santa left them a cocker spaniel puppy named Cookie!  I remember lying in bed, way before dawn, hearing whispers coming from my kids room (where Grandma was sleeping with both kids in a double bed!)  Just then I and they heard, “Ho, Ho, Ho Merry Christmas!” along with sleighbells!  There was no staying in bed any longer, the girls were up in no time, as were all of us! but it was a terrific Christmas!


Though there were some years when I was in high school that dad and I had a tough time, mostly because he was stressed and drinking, and I was a teenager who wanted to express her opinions, I always knew my dad loved me.  Teenagers pretty much are all about themselves and I am sure I was no different.  I didn’t understand much of my dad’s background (both his parents had basically left him) and I am sure he was lonely much of the time, for companionship, friends and nurturing from other than his grandparents.  Sometimes, when we feel “empty” we try to fill it up with other things to compensate.  It was years later when telling some of these things to a trusted “mentor” that through her eyes, I began to see what may be causing his “drinking” and how I could change my own attitudes, and my unforgiveness of him because of it.  I’ve always been thankful to have had that conversation!  When we can dig into the “facts” and feel the emotions of how they affect people, it gives us compassion and understanding for the other person.


When I began to be interested in the history of our family, my great grandmother Lily Lushbaugh, and her daughter Grace made my research much easier!  They had written down many things, many stories, dates, names and even “traditions” about the Lushbaugh family that I have been able to put actual documents to, in order to prove them.  But, because of my asking questions about the family—I was able to find out some background that even my own dad wasn’t aware of.  You see, my great-grandmother, Lily would have my father over for the day and unknown to him, she would also invite her son, George William over (my dad’s father, whom he never saw after the divorce when he was six months old).


The picture below of my dad on a pony was just such a day.  Lily paid for the picture to be made of my dad sitting on the pony.  There were many photos like this taken in my dad’s day…my mother has one of herself on a pony…and even I, myself, have the same photo!  This day, Lily’s son was introduced to my dad as a friend of the family—but it was really George William, father to my dad.  He got to enjoy seeing his son and watch the whole day unfold, but my dad had no clue.  Years later, as I said, I began asking some questions about why they were divorced and why didn’t my grandfather want to see his only son?  I asked that of my great Aunt Grace, Lily’s unmarried daughter and High School English teacher.  She told me that he had remarried to a Catholic woman and in those days, if they knew you’d been married before and divorced, they wouldn’t let you marry in the church, you’d be excommunicated.  So, in fear of that, his new wife made him promise never to tell anyone about his first marriage or his son.  Unfortunately, he went along with it–though his family thought it wrong, they stayed out of it.  He evidently regretted having agreed to this almost immediately.  He and his new wife lived an hour or so away in Chicago for many years, and so it wasn’t often that he returned to his mother’s home in South Bend during the early years of his new marriage.    When my own mother would send my great grandmother Lily pictures of me, they would secretly share them with George William.


The wallet George William carried all those years before his death, had our pictures in it…mine, my dad’s and my children’s.  When I was able to read the letter I received from a family member related by marriage– about all of this, my dad cried.  It was a very healing thing for him to know that his own father, though he really never knew him, was asking and being made aware of his son’s family, and then my family.  It’s a very sad story, and one that didn’t need to be.


My dad, George Wade Lushbaugh would have celebrated his 86th year today, but he passed six years ago.  However, I know I will see him again and he and my mama are together.  Thank you, Lord.  And I love you, Dad–Happy Birthday!get-attachment-3


My Great Great Grandfather Lushbaugh

get-attachment-5 My Second Great Grandfather and Grandmother; with their children, George Lee and Laura Jane.

George Washington Lushbaugh was a “cooper” meaning he made barrels, on Dowagiac Creek in Sumnerville, Michigan where he ran a cooper shop, until he took over his father’s farm near Galien, Michigan.  He was 22 yrs old when he married. He grafted fruit trees and was a “bee” man and  got his bees in the woods.  The farm was still standing in Galien, Michigan in 1953.    He belonged to the Mason’s and had a Masonic funeral.  His hair was slightly auburn.  He was a constant worker-he worked so late at night that he would go to sleep standing up.  His wife, wakened by the sudden silence, would go and get him and see that he got to bed.

He gave up his cooper shop in 1870, when his father, George M. Lushbaugh (Loshbough) sent for him to come to Galien, Michigan, to take over his farm, which he was no longer able to manage (George M. was about 78 yrs old).  George M Lushbaugh and his wife, Anna Maria–would then give the farm to their son in exchange for his taking care of them until their death.  One year later, George M Lushbaugh died. He is buried in Silver Brook Cemetery in Niles, Michigan. Anna Maria (his wife) continued to live with George Washington L. and his wife Bridgette until she decided to accompany her other son, Francis Marion ( Polk) to Kansas (1880 census)  in Louisburg,  Montgomery County, Missouri, where she died sometime after 1880.

George Washington Lushbaugh worked as furiously on the farm as he had in Sumnerville. He hand hewed new barn doors, which in 1950-1953 were still in use. He grafted fruit trees and improved the strain. He collected many swarms of wild bees.  He and some other farmers were out looking for bees when the man who was driving the horses -with a slack rein- drove under the limb of a tree which struck George Washington Lushbaugh across the back, injuring his spinal cord so severely that he was paralyzed from the injury down.  He lived several months.

He died and was buried in Galien Cemetery,  Galien Michigan in January 19,1876–His 25th wedding anniversary.  He had the first Masonic funeral in Galien, Michigan.  His headstone, broken years later was removed–only the base is left.  A very small marker was placed at the foot of his grave, bearing his initials:  G.W.L.  (Lot 212-Grave 1 old section)  He is buried in the SW corner of the lot.  At his feet on the SE corner of the lot, his granddaughter, Laura Genevieve, is buried. She is the fourth child of George and Lily Lushbaugh.

George Washington Lusbaugh’s wife Bridgette wanted him to change the name to LUSHBAUGH from Loshbough and he did. On the cover of their Bible it said “Lushbaugh” which I have in my possession.   There are many “stories” in their lives, which can be pieced together just from these details, but also from the “legacy” they left in oral tradition!