“Best loved stories are not from books or film,but those from our own families.”
“Family faces are magic mirrors.
Looking at people who belong to us.
We see the past, present, and future,
we make discoveries about
ourselves and them.”
Gail Lumet Buckley
“There’s a love within our family tree,
and happiness abounds.
It’s roots are deeply planted,
In rich and fertile ground.
We enjoy the rays of sunlight,
and endure the winds and rain,
and when a leaf falls from our tree,
together we share the pain.
God gave us earthly families,
and never did intend,
that bonds of love built on earth,
upon our death would end.
For when our life is over
and from earth our souls will flee,
one by one, leaf by leaf,
He’ll rejoin our family tree.”
“Remember me in the family tree, My name, My days, My strife, Then I’ll ride upon the wings of time and live an endless life.”
“The special book upon the shelf,
was made with many hands.
Our ancestors who posed back then,
All came from different lands.
Their pictures were all tucked away,
And rarely did we see,
The importance of these treasures,
The start of you me.
The history of our families,
Now here in black and white
Persevered with special care and time
Each page is done just right.
When time permits, we take it down,
And think of days long past.
Our hopes, our dreams, our heritage,
All safe and made to last.”
‘If you could see your Ancestors,
all standing in a row
would you be proud of them or not
or don’t you really know?
Some strange discoveries are made
In climbing family trees
And some of them you know
do not particularly please
If you could see your ancestors,
all standing in a row
There might be some of them perhaps
you wouldn’t care to know
But there’s another question
which requires a different view
If you could meet your ancestors
would they be proud of you?”
“So grateful for the whispers of loved ones departed
still here to warm our hearts as we gather round the table.
So grateful for the right now with loved ones by
our side for another chance to laugh and share
and speak out loud our thanks for another year.”
“When our hearts turn to our Ancestors, something changes inside of us. We feel part of something greater than ourselves.” Russell M. Nelson
“It’s important to teach our children their heritage. Who are your ancestors? What were their traditions? Each of us has a story to tell. If these stories are unwritten, then how are your children going to know their parentage.” Linda Weaver Clark
“Your tombstone stands among the rest;
Neglected and alone.
The name and date are chiseled out
On polished, marbled stone.
It reaches out to all who care
It is too late to mourn.
You did not know that I exist
You died and I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you
In flesh, in blood, in bone.
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse
Entirely not our own.
Dear Ancestor, the place you filled
One hundred years ago
Spreads out among the ones you left
Who would have loved you so.
I wonder if you lived and loved,
I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot,
And come to visit you.”
“I am bound to them, though I cannot look into their eyes or hear their voice. I honor their history. I cherish their lives. I tell their story. I will remember them.”
“We are 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 the facts, but instead, breathing life into all who have gone before. We are the storytellers of the tribe.”
“In all of us there is a hunger, marrow deep, to know our heritage – to know who we are and where we came from. Without this enriching knowledge, there is a hollow yearning. No matter what our attainments in life, there is still a vacuum, an emptiness, and the most disquieting loneliness.” Alex Haley
“I saw behind me those who had gone, and before me those who are to come. I looked back and saw my father, and his father, and all our fathers, and in front to see my son, and his son, and the sons upon sons beyond. And their eyes were my eyes.” Richard Llewellyn