On a warm September Thursday evening last year, I had the rather unexpected opportunity to assist my daughter as she gave birth in the living room. Her stoicism and courage through that blessedly brief and safe ordeal were amazing to watch. As the sun set that afternoon, I marveled at the blessing of a healthy new granddaughter, even if her arrival was a bit more sudden than we anticipated. How joyful I felt to help and watch as my family extended one more generation. If all goes well, this beloved new little girl could live to see the twenty-second century at the grand age of 87. In some little way, I have touched the future.
Two months later I traveled to Omaha, Nebraska for Thanksgiving. While there, I visited a museum honoring the pioneers who crossed the Great Plains on their way to build a new home in the west 170 years ago. Among the artifacts protected by glass cases was a handbook for midwives. The blurb
reported that the book had been the property of a woman who helped deliver babies along the trail. Her name was Patty and, coincidentally, I recognized her as one of my own ancestors.
Looking at her little handbook, for a moment I had a sense of her courage, dedication and patience, of the love and sisterhood she demonstrated in helping other women bring new sons and daughters into the world. I imagined her bent over in mud and cold, working with whatever she had to keep those mothers safe, warm, and comforted. I am sure she feared for every laboring woman, and worried over every new infant.
What a contrast to the pleasant sheltered room where my daughter realized that her baby was arriving on a schedule none of us had planned. We had clean water and a comfortable bed when it was over, instead of another thousand miles of hard trail. While our experiences were very different, I can imagine that Patty’s prayers and gratitude for each safe arrival were the same as mine that day. And so I felt the past touch me.
I have pondered the connection stretching between my new granddaughter and my many-greats-
grandmother through me. I don’t know what Patty looked like. We have no records of the children she delivered. I don’t know what she liked to do or the words she chose to use when she spoke. I don’t know what made her laugh. But I can imagine that she stood in awe of our Heavenly Father’s great love for us as she worked with nervous fathers and laboring mothers. Patty’s willingness to leave her home and travel west to build a new life served as a foundation for my family; her service to other women built many other families, too.
Now I hold one more little girl, another granddaughter further. Someday she will hear the story of her remarkable birth and I will tell her about another grandmother who served little children and their mothers. I am grateful for the promise that someday I will be able to meet Patty and we will be together as a family of strong and faithful women. That is the promise of being resurrected as an eternal family. That is my heart.
Malachi 4:6: And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers.
How have you touched the past and the future through your family?
No comments:
Post a Comment