Passing the Baton

As the youngest of nine children, the history and memories of my family had been deposited in the minds of my older siblings and my mother.  Since mother rarely talked with me, she didn’t offer much in the way of family history.  Some sisters passed away before I was of the age where I was curious about my predecessors.  Some sisters never lived in the same state as me and I saw them maybe twice in my life.   

That left me with two brothers who were like a vault of information.  Both of them had researched the genealogy of our lineage for generations previous.   I really didn’t care too much about the name of my great-great-great grandfather, which I think was Joshua Jehoiada.  But tales about names familiar to me were of interest.  

Both brothers were storytellers.  

Just listening to them was fascinating.  They embellished.  Their narratives were full of humor.  Unknown relatives came alive as they spun their yarns.  They both wrote books full of memories.  

One passed away five years ago and the other one in February.  

So, when I recently received an email from (if I’ve figured it out correctly) a great-niece, the realization hit me.  I’m the older one now.  I’m the storehouse of history and memories.  It’s surprising to me to be in this position.  I’ve been the youngest for all these years.  How did I get here?  And can I do it justice?  

I never knew of her existence.  

As the emails fly between us, it’s been enlightening to hear her side of the stories contained in my repertoire.  And we are just getting started.  

The baton has been passed…and I’m running with it!  

“But watch out!  Be careful never to forget what you yourself have seen.  Do not let these memories escape from your mind as long as you live!  And be sure to pass them on to your children and grandchildren.”  Deuteronomy 4:9 (NLT