The Family Tree.

I love family trees. Maybe it’s because I like knowing where I came from. Maybe it’s because I value relationships. One reason could be that for most of my life, I have gone to family reunions.

My mom’s side of the family just had our triannual reunion over Labor Day. We did the math; this was our 12th one, not counting the smaller ones that weddings and funerals bring about. Back in 1984, when my grandparents had their 50th wedding anniversary, all my mom’s siblings and their kids drove to Michigan to celebrate. This was the first time I really remember meeting all my cousins. We clicked in that instant way kids often do and played backyard games and inside ones–like Kick the Can and Wink’em. We cousins had so much fun together that our parents remarked they should get together like this more often. 6 years later, the VanDyk Reunions were born.

It took some ironing out of the details to make it work. The first two occurred back-to-back in 1990 and ’91, many thinking it might be an annual event, until all my aunts and uncles realized how much work it was on the one hosting it. It has morphed over the years from the majority of us staying in tents either in my uncle’s yard in Pella, Iowa or in my cousin’s farmyard in Colton, SD to renting a pavilion in a unique place called Prairie Village, SD and most of us hotelling it.
Everybody brings homemade treats (my Aunt Audrey’s sour cream raisin bars are mouth-watering), games to play, and photos of past events to share. Everyone pitches in to help serve meals and clean up. We have our lively bag/cornhole tournaments (worth bragging rights and a new 3D-printed trophy by my cousin’s husband) and campfires. People take turns helping out with the little ones by playing games or holding a napping child. My favorite part of the whole thing is hearing the stories the elders of the family tell if you ask them a question that provokes a memory.
There are circles of laughter and smaller groups gathering close. I found it joyful to see the 10 and under crowd playing giant Connect Four and the obstacle course my cousin Lisa set up, to witness the 18-26 year-olds comparing notes on life, to watch the thirty-somethings navigating parenting young kids, and to experience the rest of us soaking up time with the remaining 3 out of 7 original siblings. All in all, there were 70 of us present this time, with many missing for various reasons, and others we have had to say goodbye to here on earth. All these people connected because Gerrit and Nellie married in 1934.

One afternoon, I plopped myself down next to Brandy, one of my cousin’s daughters (is that first-cousin-once-removed or a second cousin? I never know the official terminology). We looked at the youngest generation running about–including her own kids–when she said, “We could teach them how to play Kick the Can like you taught us years ago, but they’re just a little too young yet.”
“You remember that?” I asked, surprised. After all, it was probably 25-30 years ago when I taught that generation the game. My mom had played it with her siblings on the farm, and she taught me and my Michigan cousins back one day when we complained about being bored.
“Bev,” she replied as she looked at me, “that’s a core memory.”
A core memory, by one definition, is a powerful memory that can significantly shape you as a person.
I have core memories like that too, from this great big family of mine.

This morning, I opened up The Biggest Story Bible Storybook by Kevin DeYoung and Don Clark. Chapter 5 refers to Genesis 10 –a genealogy. It describes the Bible as a big book that tells the Biggest Story, but that not everything in the Bible is a story. It includes songs, poems, sermons, laws, letters, and lists. Then it says,
“Most people skip the lists. They seem kind of boring, and they usually have names that even adults can’t pronounce. But the lists are really important. They tell us about families, and where people came from, and how God can take care of everything and keep his promises.”

Huh. The genealogies are like my family tree. Each name holds a story. Each name is part of a bigger family. I looked up Genesis 10 and put in my own family names just to see how it sounded. It sounded personal. It sounded like something I wanted to hear more about.

What if I read all those genealogies with fresh eyes, looking for the stories, imagining the lives they lived? What if I look at people at the grocery store, in the park, or anywhere as people part of a bigger family–one where God says, as the Biggest Story continues,
“Look at all these people in all these places–they all belong to me. Don’t ever forget that the Biggest Story is about a big God who wants everyone everywhere to know him, no matter how big or small.”? What if knowing this helped us all create good and significant core memories?

Maybe then I will be able to better love even the ones I think are most challenging to love. After all, we’re family.