Across my dining room table sprawl large pieces of poster
board littered with rulers, pencils, and open books of family history. You see,
I’m drawing a family genogram of rather large proportions, and in the process I
am learning much about myself through the mirror of my ancestors.
This year our family farm turns 100 years old, and come the
end of June we’re hosting a big bash with people coming from far and near. Part of the day will be a multi-branch family
reunion. Of course, when you get cousins
and second cousins from various family lines, those whom we call family can
hardly be expected to know each other.
Thus the need for a family tree: a visual of how we are all connected to
each other and to this place.
As I draw and label I recognize names and remember
stories. There’s Magdalena who went by
Mattie, Maggie, and Molly. So that’s
where my family’s propensity for nicknaming came from! Great Granddad played
the mandolin and fiddle, and many in the family sang with voices mixing in
beautiful harmony. It’s no wonder music
seems as necessary as breath. If my
ancestors could look at a section of desert, envision making a living there,
and actually pull it off, there must be a healthy streak of optimism,
persistence, and stubbornness!
We learn from our families.
We test behavior on those closest to us and hear what actions are
appropriate. As children we mimic our
parents. And of course, there are
genetics. Because of a combination of inheriting
and learning, family stories can give us hints for self-awareness.
We can look for patterns in our family history for many
aspects of life, including how we engage with others during conflict or other
times of stress.
In your family culture what is the most appropriate way of
dealing with disagreement?
What fights, breaks in relationship, or ruptures have
happened in your family history? How
does that affect your response to relational crisis?
When you hear family stories, in which of your ancestors do
you see yourself most often?
