Seedlings

The Forgotten Infant: Another Lesson from a Family Cemetery

“In every conceivable manner, the family is link to our past, bridge to our future…my fondest hope is that Roots may start black, white, brown, red, and yellow people digging back for their own roots.”—Alex Haley, author of Roots

My friend Joe Paul told me another story about his family’s cemetery.  On one trip to the family cemetery in Georgia he noticed crabgrass infesting one corner of the cemetery.  A rusty tool lay nearby so Joe picked it up and began to use it to clear the crabgrass and other weeds.  After a few minutes of work Joe hit something hard just beneath the surface.  He raked the dirt away to discover a small buried headstone lying face down.  He turned it over and cleaned it enough to discover it was the marker for an infant who had been buried next to his parents.  Somehow over time the headstone had fallen unnoticed and had been covered with dirt and crabgrass.

The story of the lost headstone and Joe’s efforts to restore it to its proper place next to the deceased infant’s parents’ headstones ignited my thinking.  The infant in Joe’s family cemetery didn’t have any descendants who would have come to the cemetery looking for his/her grave.  If it hadn’t been for Joe’s commitment to honor not just his ancestors, but his family in a broader sense, it is quite possible that overlooked marker would still be buried.

I believe the recovery of that infant’s forgotten tombstone is a metaphor for the opportunity we have to assist in gathering and preserving the life stories of our deceased ancestors who can’t and didn’t do that work for themselves.  And, if we take a broader view of family (as perhaps Jay Hughes suggests through his family of affinity concept) we don’t have to limit our efforts to just those from whom we descend through a lineal bloodline.

None of us or our family members should be forgotten.  The tombstones of their stories and life experiences should not lay buried under the humus of disinterest or disrespect.

I believe each of us may have a forgotten family member we could learn a great deal from.  In just the span of four generations, each of us has 30 ancestors.  That means there are thirty different opportunities for each of us to connect with the roots of our heritage. 

Just as Alex Haley, the author of Roots, discovered the incredible power of connecting with the stories of his ancestors, that same opportunity awaits each of us.  Services such as Ancestry.com are making it easier and easier to discover the basic facts about each of our ancestors.  But the work of finding their stories grows more difficult the further back in time we go.  If you have a parent or grandparent alive today, you may be able to trace your legacy back three or four generations by tapping into their memories of the ancestors they knew.  But once our parent or grandparent passes away, the opportunity to capture the stories of your ancestor’s struggles and successes evaporates and is most likely lost.  Thus, it is vital we begin that task now so that those who will follow behind us in 100 years won’t be left with a buried tombstone which yields no stories, just dates.

I want to call this effort to discover and preserve our family heritage Building a Legacy Place.  In our next blog I will share some exciting ways in which you can begin to uncover the stories and wisdom of your family.  In the process you will be beautifying and building your Legacy Place.

“Nobody can do for little children what grandparents do. Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children”—Alex Haley, author of Roots

Reflections on a Visit to the Family Cemetery

Plus An Invitation to Create Your Family’s Legacy Place

“When we are gone, and people weep for us and grieve,

Let it be because we

Touched Their Lives

Let it not be said that life was good to us,

But rather, we were Good to Them”

—From a Funeral Program

 
We are fast approaching Memorial Day, a day when we remember our dead.  In a visit with my friend, Joe Paul, a family business consultant in Portland, Oregon, Joe reminisced about a trip he had taken recently to his family’s cemetery in Georgia.  The story Joe shared with me is a powerful one about not just the honor and respect we should pay to our ancestors but of the value we draw from the meaning of their lives.  That meaning isn’t reflected in their headstones but rather in their experiences, values and wisdom.

At an early stage in Joe’s life, his grandmother began a custom of periodically taking Joe to the family cemetery to weed.  As they would weed around the various plots and headstones Joe’s grandmother shared stories from the life of the individual whose grave they were honoring through their service.  There was something almost magical about the way those stories have stuck with Joe throughout his life, as if the formula of service and story, repeated often, coats our memories with an enduring protective power.

Joe shared with me an important moment in his life when he felt a strong desire, almost need, to return to that family cemetery to have a conversation with his deceased parents about a vexing problem.  It wasn’t a conversation of words but rather of emotions.  Memories of the stories his grandmother had shared came racing back as he walked among the headstones.   This trip to the cemetery didn’t provide immediate closure for the dilemma he faced, but it did put Joe on the reflective path which would ultimately yield the answers he sought.  

Not all of us have a family cemetery we can go to when we hit critical junctures in life.  But I would like to suggest we all can create our Family’s Legacy Place—a  virtual place we can visit where the life wisdom and experiential reflections of our ancestors is preserved.  A Legacy Place isn’t a physical destination.  Your Legacy Place and mine isn’t marked by iron gates and headstones.  Rather it is made up of Legacystones.  Legacystones come in lots of different shapes and sizes.  Legacystones are priceless heirlooms such as: 1) “My Favorite Quotes” collections; 2) wisdom treasure chests; 3) personal diaries; 4) gratitude journals; 5) pedigree charts and historical records; 6) family love letters; 7) scrapbooks; 8) video memoirs and digitally recorded life stories; 9) Purposeful Conversations; and 10) digital photo collections with written narration or tags.

A headstone is always placed on our grave by someone else. One difference between a headstone and a Legacystone is that we can create and erect our own Legacystones.  So don’t focus on just gathering and erecting Legacystones for your progenitors.  Be sure to work on your own Legacystones as well.

Through the service of creating and organizing our Family’s Legacy Place we leave behind a powerful source of strength, comfort and inspiration for those who will follow in our footsteps.  That effort can be for us, as it was for Joe, something we will carry with us throughout our lives.  For I truly believe that the creator of a legacy receives far more from the effort to build a legacy than just the hope that someone will say at our funeral that we touched their lives.

“Life lessons from our ancestors, as well as our personal story and life wisdom, are the building blocks for erecting lasting legacies for the rising generations of our family”—John A. Warnick

 

Looking Back At Mother’s Day - The Reverse Gift Opportunity

“Do something wonderful, people may imitate it.” - Albert Schweitzer

In a recent post I stressed the powerful opportunity we all have to reflect on the gifts our mothers have given us.  Today, however, I want to suggest to mothers a way in which they can give a gift which will last long after their deaths.  I call this the “Reverse Gift Opportunity”.

A few years ago I was explaining to a client how she could leave a memorandum which would designate whom she wanted to receive her jewelry and other collectibles and keepsakes.  She responded:

“I have such beautiful jewelry and I want to make sure that I don't leave the girls in a position where they might fight over our heirlooms.  And, you know I'm wondering if I could leave the letter I would like to leave to the girls with that memo."

"What kind of letter do you have in mind?" I asked her. 

"Well," she responded, "I just feel like I have to leave a letter to each of my girls like my mother left to me.  You see my dad abandoned us before I was a year old.  My mother did the best job she could to raise me.  But I never saw my dad...don't even remember him and never had any desire to try to find him.  But just after I turned nine my mother died from a terminal illness.  I was forced to live with my grandmother and those were miserable years.  My heart ached for my mother and my grandmother seemed so mean.  I was sure my mother would never approve of all the strict rules my grandmother imposed on me.  By the time I was 14 I was doing everything my grandmother didn't want me to do just to spite her:  I ran with the wrong crowd, didn't do my homework, skipped school frequently, and really was plotting to run away from my grandmother's home.”

“On the morning of my 16^th birthday my grandmother greeted me with a ‘Happy Birthday Karen’ and handed me an envelope.  At first I thought it was from my grandmother but fortunately I looked at the cover and noticed what I thought was my name addressed in my mother's handwriting.  Instead of throwing the envelope away as I had initially intended, I opened it up.  And, there was a handwritten letter of three pages.  In it my mother said something like this:

Dearest Karen,

I've asked your grandmother to deliver this letter to you on your sixteenth birthday.  How I wished I could have lived to see you blow out those 17 candles on your birthday cake on this day.  There are so many things, Karen, that I wanted to do with you.  I wanted to be there to see you walk down the commencement ceremony at your high school graduation in your cap and gown.  I wanted to drive you to College and help you get situated in your dorm.  I wanted to be there when you graduated from College.  I wanted to give you away at your wedding.  I wanted to be there when you brought your first baby home from the hospital..."

By this time Karen was overcome by emotion and even I was reaching for the kleenex box.  When she regained her composure Karen finished the story.  "This letter changed my life.  I suddenly had a reason to be the person my mother had dreamed I would be rather than the person I felt my grandmother was forcing me to be.  I changed my friends.  I began to study and do my homework.  My grades improved immediately and I was able to get a scholarship to a couple of colleges.  I met Charles while a junior at college and went on to earn my college degree.  We got married and have two beautiful daughters.  All the things that my mother dreamed for me have come true."

So it was that night I learned how a letter from the grave, or at least a letter delivered years after the writer's death, could have had such a powerful transformative impact on the life of a child.  Since then I've always tried to share what I have called the “Nine Year Old Orphan’s Letter” idea with the parents of minor children. 

Today, I want to suggest that every mother on Mother’s Day should consider writing a letter to her children and grandchildren.  In these letters or notes you could share your feelings about:

A time when you were a child and you made me so proud

The memories I have of your birth and how grateful I am that you came into my life

My hopes and dreams for your future and how precious the days and hours are that I get to spend with you

If your child is young, all the hopes and dreams I have of things I will be able to do with you and witness in your life

Why I feel like I won the Child Lottery and am the luckiest parent in the whole wide world

What are the traditions, holiday celebrations and rituals you most hope that your children and grandchildren will perpetuate in their lives and what are some of your favorite memories of your time with your child during one of those holidays, rituals or traditions

Don’t just write these letters or notes but read them to your child or grandchild in person, if possible, or over the phone if they live a great distant from you.  Let them hear the emotion behind the words.  And then most importantly, preserve those letters and notes after you have delivered them.

"The great art of giving consists in this: the gift should cost very little and yet be greatly coveted, so that it may be the more highly appreciated." - Baltasar Gracian

 

A Joyful Life – A Mother’s Gift to Her Daughter

“To live joyfully you must be brave. True joy is not for the fainthearted. You must decide to be happy. Joy is an act of courage. Joy will not abide until you make a conscious decision to treasure it… Gratitude is the gateway to joy” - Elaine Marshall

Sometimes an encounter with another human being can be the spark that ignites a powerful and sustaining fire in us.  Parents too often don’t realize that their most powerful influence might come many years after their child has left the nest.

A story Elaine Marshall told in her 2004 address entitled In This Life I Shall Have Joy describes how a mother’s generative words would rekindle her daughter’s soul and lead to a life transforming attitude shift.  Elaine and her mother had volunteered to work at a niece’s wedding reception.  Elaine had been busy putting pink mints on glass plates while her mother and aunt were laboring in the kitchen.  When Elaine returned to the kitchen she overheard a conversation between her mother and her aunt.  She stopped out of their sight and eavesdropped on their conversation about her.  Here is Elaine’s description of how her mother’s words, spoken at a very difficult moment in Elaine’s life, would have a powerful impact on the way Elaine would live the rest of her life:

“The organdy lace wedding apron was barely holding my soul together. I was quietly just hanging on spiritually and emotionally. It was a time in my life of little joy. My mother and her sister were talking…together nearby. I heard my aunt ask my mother, “How is Elaine?” Mom responded, “I believe she has made a decision to be happy. She has a garden and flowers in her yard. She sews and writes, and she works hard. She keeps a clean house and plays beautiful music. Her children are doing well. I think she has decided to be brave and to be happy.”

I wept a few tears as I eavesdropped on my mother’s conversation. I was lonely, tired, and grief stricken. I didn’t know if I had made a conscious decision to be happy. But hearing my mother’s hopeful description of me, I wanted it to be true. So I did decide to be happy. I decided that night to find joy in every day. It has been difficult. But I was brave. I am not so brave every day, but I do try to remember that joy is a decision that requires courage.”

Have you made a conscious decision to be happy and to live a joy-Full life? 

Have you thought about a way in which you might record and share encouraging words which will lift and sustain another?  What if Elaine had not walked in at the moment her mother was speaking those words?  Could Elaine’s mother have written something similar in a note or letter and wouldn’t that have had as powerful an impact?

"In order to know joy, you have to be there. Joy requires presence. My friends know that if I were not too stingy to buy personalized vanity license plates for my car, I would choose my favorite word. The word is vivace. Vivace is an Italian word used in music. It sounds like music. It means life, lively, quickening. It sounds alive. It reminds me to wake up, to be acute and sensitive, alert, alive. It means vitality, la joie de vivre, vibrance, vigor. It reminds me to touch the palpable gift and reality of life" - Elaine Marshall

Honoring Our Mothers – Pausing to Remember Our Mother’s Greatest Gift(s) to Us

“Sometimes our light goes out but is blown again into flame by an encounter with another human being.  Each of us owes the deepest thanks to those who have rekindled this inner light”—Albert Schweitzer, 1952 Nobel Peace Prize Winner

Mother’s Day is Mother’s Day; not Mothers’ Day.  Notice the emphasis on the singular Mother.  It is a day to honor our Mother.  Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have carried us in the womb, labored and travailed to give us physical life.  And for those of us who were adopted, we can be twice grateful: grateful for the gift of life and for the gift of a mother’s nurturing love.

Mother’s Day is a near universal holiday.  While it isn’t celebrated on the same day of the year throughout the world, almost all cultures today have an official day to reflect on and remember the gifts which our mothers have bestowed on us.

In the Arab world Mother’s Day is celebrated on March 21^st.  An Egyptian journalist, Mustafa Amin, is credited with starting this practice in the Muslim nations.  Amin became motivated to promote the idea of a holiday to honor mothers when he heard the story of a widowed mother who devoted her whole life to raising her son.  The son became a doctor, married, and abandoned his mother without showing any gratitude.

Each of us should pause and reflect, not just on the official day set aside to commemorate our mother, but throughout the year on the many ways in which our mother has influenced our lives.  In a sermon on this Mother’s Day I heard the suggestion we try to remember the most significant gift or influence our mother gave us.

What flashed into my mind in that moment was a project I was working on when I was probably in the third or fourth grade.  It was a project for a geography lesson.  We were supposed to make a map using salt dough.  We would color the map with blue for major rivers and large lakes, mountain ranges would be shaded in browns and large forests in green.  We were encouraged to put tiny figures for cows and horses where there were ranches, tractors where there were corn and wheat farms, and a star where the state capitol was located.  As I recall I was supposed to illustrate the State of Texas.   

My mother took the recipe for salt dough which my teacher had provided and prepared a generous supply of salt dough and the cardboard on which I would construct my map of Texas.  I worked well past my bed time and had just about completed my map when something went terribly wrong.  I don’t remember today just what it was.  I think it may have been a spill of the food coloring which was used to color code the map.  In any event I suffered an emotional melt-down when I saw that my almost perfect map was going to be much less than perfect.  In my frustration I pounded on the map doing much more damage than the spill of the food coloring and burst into sobs.

My mother tried to console me and assured me that she could fix the damage I had done.  My parents put me to bed.  I don’t know how late it was but I suspect it was at least an hour or two later than my normal bed-time and we had been working on this project for three or four hours.

When I arose the next morning my mother, perhaps with some help from my father, had reconstructed the map.  She had started over and tried to redo the whole map.  The second version was much better than the first and I proudly carried it to school the next morning.  I had never reflected until this Mother’s Day on just how late my mother must have stayed up to repair the damage my temper tantrum had done.  I feel deep emotion rolling up inside me today as I contemplate how powerful an energy source at that late hour of the night a mother’s love for her child is.

What was your mother’s greatest gift to you?  What positive influence from your mother is still felt in your life today? 

As you reflect on that greatest gift, and on your mother’s love and positive emotional energy in your life, record those feelings and describe the story of your mother’s gift and influence.  You, and those who are privileged to read this story, will always be grateful you took the time to pause and reflect. It will be a legacy that can last well beyond the grave.

My mother said to me, "If you become a soldier, you'll be a general; if you become a monk, you'll end up as the Pope." Instead, I became a painter and wound up as Picasso—Pablo Picasso