Over the course of the millennia, all these multitudes of ancestors, generation upon generation, have come down to this moment in time—to give birth to you. There has never been, nor will ever be, another like you. You have been given a tremendous responsibility. You carry the hopes and dreams of all those who have gone before. Hopes and dreams for a better world. What will you do with your time on this Earth? How will you contribute to the ongoing story of humankind?
Laurence Overmire
The start of a family tree hangs on the wall next to my desk in my woman cave. I started putting together when we returned from out LLF vacation to help me sort out where everyone fit. Fleshing it out will be a winter project. Ladybug Girl, who has an interest in genealogy, spies it and asks me to explain.
We walk through many generations of Jacobs, until we get to my great-grandfather Heinrich, and his wife Katerina, who were the first to come to Canada; she notices how much he looks like her uncle Michael (my son).
I point out Heinrich’s son, another Jacob, and his wife Mary, whose land we stood on and whose graves we visited (was it only a month ago?), and go on to tell her about my birth mom’s generation. Here, it starts to get a bit confusing.
Pictures of my (adoptive) mom and dad hang on the wall next to the family tree. I haven’t figured out how to work them into the tree yet; perhaps I’ll create a second tree for my adoptive family. Ladybug Girl never met them; they died when my children were so young that their memories of them are spotty. I don’t want them to be forgotten.
For one who once had no idea of who her people were, the gift of explaining our heritage to my granddaughter is a priceless one.
I tell her about the Mennonite treat, roll kuchen, that we enjoyed with my cousins last month, and how I’m going to make some when her mom arrives—making it our tradition too. She says that she will make it when she is grown up and I see more threads being reconnected.
Later, while we’re playing Yahtzee my phone dings with a short text from my cousin. With technology we are maintaining a precious connection that has become my gift in the Creator’s perfect timing. What a sweet life this is.
Simple happy. Abundantly blessed.
That is an interesting dilemma of how to work the adoptive family into the tree – and into family history book stories of ancestors. My cousin’s adopted son fully embraced his adoptive father’s heritage in naming his first child after several of our ancestor’s with that old-country name.
It’s a challenge for sure. As an adoptee, I am who I am, in part, as a result of both nature and nurture. I understand completely how your cousim’s son embraced his adoptive family’s heritage in the naming of his child. My daughter’s name (Laurinda)is named after my adoptive mom (Laura) and me.