Why I Look Back

What is it about family history? Why do I feel this continual tug to gather family stories? Why do I feel this hunger to know what the women and men I came from were like?

Yesterday I asked on a family facebook page if anyone had information about Anna Bertha Geigle, my great grandmother who came from Germany and had 11 children. From a link a family member sent me I learned among other things that her home was a gathering place for friends and neighbors, that she made wonderful sandwiches for others and good apple cottage cheese pies. That simple piece speaks to me. Is it because I too want to make my home a place where people gather, are fed great food and feel at home?  While places and props differ, is my desire so different from hers today?  I wish I could peek into the past and learn more from her, her thoughts and desires. 

As I look back, I find stories like these:

• My dad's horses ran away and he prayed for help to get them back and his prayer was answered.
• My great great grandfather was sent to build roads in Southern Utah by Brigham Young.  He was promised amazing blessings, all of which came to pass, including finding a silver mine.
• My mom found herself under a moving car as a young child and rolled out unhurt on her way to school.
• My great grandmother reached out to the community and taught sewing and self reliance to young girls. She provided for her family for decades as a result of her husband's disappearance.
• My grandfather was progressive, always looking for new ways to do things.  He was also a listener and people always felt like they knew what to do after talking to him, yet he never told them what to do.

This history of moms, dads, babies, children, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, gives their posterity a rich heritage of successes, failures, sadnesses and joys from which to learn. The similarity and proximity of their stories remind us that we are inseparably connected. 

Hundreds of years ago, two parents sent their four children to Jerusalem to get family records engraved on plates. They risked their lives to have these stories. They likely knew they would never return to their home town and the stories required by heaven among other things were necessary to sustain strength and build faith in them and their posterity as they traveled in the wilderness. I feel like that.  I'm retrieving my "plates" to help me and mine in our wildernesses. My children and their skills are key in this quest. I love the emails from my daughter to my mother that say, "Tell me about your mom. Tell me stories about when you were little."

What am I looking back to find? I'm looking for identity and compassion.  I'm seeking strength and protection. I'm searching for faith and understanding. Their roles and identity were clear to them, and I see the fruits.  Compassion is evident in their examples of sacrifice and reaching out to others. Strength emerges as I see they did hard things, so I can too.  Protection comes to those who seek to bless those who have passed on by doing for them what they cannot do for themselves. Faith and understanding wrap around me as I appreciate their struggles and sacrifices. When they succeed, I want to shout for joy, and when they struggle I want to wrap my arms around them and reassure them. And maybe they feel the same way about us.
   
I'm searching for the stories that bear these things out to pass on to my children. If ever there was a time they needed examples of identity and compassion it is now.  If ever there was a season for strength and protection, it is today. And if ever there was an urgency for faith and understanding, it is before us.  The hope is as we look back, we can then move forward with vision and purpose. That is why I look back.