Musings on Family History

Goooooood evening everybody! I am finally back, on this last day of January, with my arms full of New Year's Eve resolutions to write more and create more. I thank you all for supporting me on my journey.

One thing I've been thinking a lot about is family history. I'm not very good at it. I like reading stories and exploring the different sides of my family tree, but I'm definitely no expert. In fact, I must confess that I spend half my time on Family Search praying I don't accidentally delete someone off of my family tree. I don't want that hanging on my conscious in the next life.

So if I'm not performing any swash-buckling feats on Family Search, why even bother?

1.) Family history grounds me: There's something comforting about seeing myself surrounded by a little of network of individuals who came before me. It reminds me that the mortal experience I am going through right now is temporary. Someday soon, I, too, will be a reduced to a tiny little clickable box on a Family Search screen. This knowledge helps me put my trials in perspective and reminds me of my purpose here on Earth. 

2.) Knowing my roots gives me tolerance: There's something about family stories that help us connect with other people. Stories in general are powerful because they resonate with and connect us to our own lived experiences. In fact, I believe that stories are reauthored every time they are read because every reader brings with them a different lens of understanding and experiences (This concept is often referred to as transactional reader theory, but I'll save you the nerdy details). 

As such, learning about our ancestors' experiences helps us expand our vision and understanding of the world around us. If we learn about an ancestor's desperate struggle to immigrant to America, for example, we might view a modern-day immigrant's experience in a different light than previously. 

3.) Reading others' stories gives me hope: Often, I am tempted to myopically assume that my life is so terribly hard, and that no one understands what I am going through. Although to some degree, no one, besides Jesus Christ, can really understand eeeeverything I go through, it's comforting to read about ancestors who actually went through remarkably similar difficulties. One of my favorite examples is the story of Alice Keeler. Alice's husband died and left her to care for her children alone. At great personal and familial sacrifice, she went to college (at BYU, no less) and got a degree in teaching. She taught at a local school for a few years before beginning a new career. I love hearing this story because it reminds me that as I seek to navigate personal, familial, and educational goals, there are many women in my family who had to struggle with the exact same thing.

 

Whelp, that about does it for Kaila musings today. I want to know: what does your family's history and culture mean to you?