Sunday, September 6, 2009

We Are The Chosen

My co-grandma sent this to me. I haven't seen it before but
I think it is beautiful and perfect.
We Are The Chosen

We are the chosen. In each family there is one who seems called to
find the ancestors.
To put flesh on their bones and make them live again, to tell
the family story and to feel that somehow they know and approve.

Doing genealogy is not a cold gathering of facts but, instead,
breathing life into all who have gone before. We are the storytellers
of the tribe. All tribes have one. We have been called, as it were, by our genes.
Those who have gone before cry out to us, "Tell our story!" So, we do.

In finding them, we somehow find ourselves. How many graves have I stood
before now and cried? I have lost count. How many times have I told the
ancestors, "You have a wonderful family; you would be proud of us."
How many times have I walked up to a grave and felt somehow there
was love there for me?
I cannot say.

It goes beyond just documenting facts. I goes to who am I and why do I
do the things I do. It goes to seeing a cemetery about to be lost
forever to weeds and indifference and saying,
"I can't let this happen." The bones here are bones of my bone
and flesh of my flesh. It goes to doing something about
it. It goes to pride in what our ancestors were able to accomplish, how
they contributed to what we are today. It goes to respecting their
hardships and losses, their never giving in or up, their resoluteness to go on and
build a life for their family.

It goes to deep pride that the fathers fought and some died to make and keep
us a Nation. It goes to a deep and immense understanding that they were
doing it for us. It is of equal pride and love that our mothers struggled to
give us birth. Without them we could not exist, and so we love each one, as
far back as we can reach. That we might be born who we are. That we might
remember them. So we do.

With love and caring and scribing each fact of their existence because we
are they and they are the sum of who we are. So, as a scribe called, I tell
the story of my family. It is up to that one called in the next generation to
answer the call and take my place in the long line of family storytellers.
That is why I do my family genealogy, and that is what calls those young and
old to step up and restore the memory or greet those whom we have
never known before.

Author Unknown

1 comment:

Gale Wall said...

If you Google "we are the chosen" you will see countless sites that credit this to Della M. Cummings. I have seen it before and have always felt I was the chosen one for my family. I searched for a long time to find out what happened to my 4 G GF, Malachi Dennis Goodman. Finally...he had died during the civil war. The day the papers arrived that revealed this information I cried as though and I known him, loved him and lost him.

A Member of The Association of Graveyard Rabbits