Wisteria

Thirty years ago this year, I began pursuing what has developed into a lifelong passion for family history. My paternal grandmother passed away that January. At the funeral, someone pulled out an old family bible and someone else shared old letters that included additional family information. From that point on, I was hooked! Over the years, I have learned many valuable lessons about myself as well as my roots. Family history for me has been almost a spiritual calling.

In September of 2011, I started this family history blog to share what I have gathered and learned on a wider scale. I named it “Wisteria” for the feeling the word evokes in me in terms of wistful longing. I also explained in an early blog post that shortly after launching the blog, I ran across some early writing of mine done in 1995. In that writing, I recounted a dream I had in which I found a book that held the answers to all my genealogy problems (a wish any genealogist can relate to). The book was called Wisteria. So from a dream or certainly a place beyond any power of my own, the name came.

This blog has been a means of further contact with kin distant both in terms of relation and place. In one instance, a cousin residing in the Netherlands found my blog after I wrote about initial contact I had early on with his father. This cousin was able to answer further questions I had about the family since I had been unable to make contact with his father again (who had passed away in the intervening years).

All their lives, my children have had to deal with a mother who has what may be seen as a morbid fascination for dead relatives and dusty old records. They have constantly heard the stories I've discovered and have been dragged to many a cemetery over the years. Fortunate or not, none of them have inherited whatever it is that has caused me to succumb to such behavior. Knowing something of her maternal ancestral roots in the Netherlands, though, played at least a small part in my youngest daughter Leah's choice in attending a semester abroad in Amsterdam at the beginning of this year.

I saw her time over there as an opportunity to travel there myself and just returned last week from my trip. During the planning stages, Leah hopefully asked if I might be able to find living relatives there? I told her about making contact with one living cousin over there a few years ago. I resolved to see if I could reach out to him again. Time flies when you're having fun (and when you are older). It turned out it had been seven years since our last correspondence, but luckily we re-established a connection. He was willing to meet us when I explained via email how much I was looking forward to touching the dirt from which my forefathers had come. His response to what I self-consciously joked as being awfully sentimental made me understand both how well this cousin has a command of the English language and how similar he felt in terms of our ancestors.

My time there (I eventually extended it from one week to two) was magical. It was the most meaningful and relaxing vacation I have ever been on. I was indeed able to touch the dirt where my forefathers lived and visited many of the small villages where they came from. I stood at some of their graves and thanked the one who, over one hundred years ago, urged his children to emigrate to America for a better opportunity in life. If not for that selfless act (I don't believe he ever saw those children again), I would not be here. Not surprisingly many of the photos I took while there were of cemeteries and churches, but as I explained in a Facebook post, “History is the reason I am here.” 

There is a deeper truth to that statement. It is that deeper truth that makes this obsession of mine something of a spiritual quest. Indeed, the connection I made with my cousin and his partner was on a deeper level than I could have imagined as well. Be it having the same voices in our blood or something else, I have never "clicked" with anyone in such a short time in my life. They have both quickly become very dear to me, an unexpected blessing and bonus of my trip.

Things happened to me there that I cannot even explain, including seeing wisteria blooming every day in all the different places I went. Just before I left, never having done so before, I decided to look up the spiritual meaning of wisteria. The meaning is significant on many levels and confirms that, for reasons I may never fully understand, this trip was divinely guided.

Wisteria (information taken from several websites including whatsyoursign.com and sunsigns.org): It's long life bestows the symbolic meaning of immortality and longevity. European families mark the ages of generations passing with the growth of this vine. Love, grace, bliss, honor, memory, patience, endurance, longevity, exploration, creative expansion, releasing burdens, the duality of love, victory over hardship. The blossoms eloquently falling in tapered clusters are considered a visual indication of bowing or kneeling down in honor and respect and as a symbol of prayer or thoughtful reverence. These vine gestures naturally bring to mind our need for peace, quiet and time to honor the divine essences of our own understanding. It's growth patterns run in a spiral motion, also a symbol of wisdom. It expands to take on new wisdom and experience. The long vines are forever extending to seek new knowledge. Perfect symbol of patience, longevity, endurance. It can teach us to make gentle but determined pursuits. Many things take time and are worth the effort. Hard times must be endured in order to reach the beautiful ones. The plant never stops growing and never settles. It encourages us to practice love through generosity and selflessness and knows true beauty takes time. Slow down and take in your surroundings. Strive to be connected to the world around you. Through this practice we can attain a higher sense of inner peace and a better understanding of our higher purpose. A final lesson is one of nostalgia and memory. It is witness to several generations and absorbs lessons from every time period. The plant knows that valuable lessons are hidden away in our past. We can learn from previous mistakes and those of others who came before.