History, Theirstory, Ourstory
As the block of spiral-bound, photo-copied papers was placed in my hands I stammered “My word Julie. How did you do it?” I shook my head at my aunt, now in her 70’s. I had always known she was highly intelligent and a hard worker, but the thought of compiling such a massive history of our ancestors was simply mind boggling.
When she left, I began flipping through the pages, starting in the middle of the book. The sections were organized chronologically by generation, and I wanted to start with a generation that I knew personally.
These were the folks I had sat with in lawn chairs in front of our family’s Chevrolet dealership— the second oldest in Arizona—as we watched the parades roll by. They were the relatives that I could pick out in photographs as the one with the Downs Syndrome daughter, or the one who always wore gold lamé slippers. Or the WWII pilot who loved to tease the little kids and swore a lot. Or the veterinarian who had as good a collection of animal stories as James Herriot. Or the aunt who kept a mesmerizing back bedroom full of dolls. As she’d let us hold them, we’d ask her to tell us about the time she had gone off to Hollywood to become a star.
At the top of each story-filled page was a genealogical timeline, showing how the characters in this story were related to us:
As I read I couldn’t contain myself. I’d call out to my children “Hey, you guys! Listen to this. Remember how I told you that your great-great-grandpa was a rancher? Well here’s the story of how he accidentally bought a whole herd of Herefords without knowing he had, until the auction attendees started to congratulate him.” We’d chuckle and inspect the photos of this big character in a cowboy hat, walking with two canes to support his bulk and ease his arthritis.
If I could catch one of my teens at the right time, they would listen to story after story. I too could get lost for an hour at a time, not able to tear myself away from the drama, the fun, or the spirit of those stories.
What I didn’t realize was that the stories of my ancestors weren’t just entertainment. As the years went by, I found pieces of them coming back to me when I needed them for strength or normalization. These stories weren’t about strangers in funny, old fashioned clothes, set in a time and place that had no relation to ours. They were stories with themes that mirrored our own lives and times:
- An unplanned pregnancy
- A relative leaving the family business after an argument
- A life ending before its time
- A painful divorce that ripples through the children still
- An addiction that hurt and embarrassed an individual and their family
- A world-class vocal talent that was set aside for the joy of home and family
- A community that came together during the spanish influenza
- A love story that started in grade school and ended in their 90’s
If their stories sounded like our stories, then our triumphs will eventually look like theirs. Their grit and reliance on grace isn’t so very different from our own.
What a comfort to see a life in chapters. Perhaps this difficult chapter in our lives, is just that, a chapter. It is definitely NOT our entire story.
– Roxanne Thayne
Roxanne Thayne fills her days with mothering, ministering, and marketing. She’s attracted to sparkly things like chandeliers, jewelry, and conversation. Read more on her “Spark ‘n Sway” blog at www.roxannethayne.com.
