“The knowledge of what has always been remains in us, as part of his (God’s) plan for us. Sometimes we call it intuition, at other times we call it inspiration. When we follow our hearts, when we are in tune and balanced, and when we listen to the still inner voice within us…we ‘know’. These gifts and abilities are stored in our cells—our cellular memory—and they include the experiences and lessons learned by our ancestors, which are also imprinted in every cell of our body. We pass those memories to our children and then to later generations; these include both genetic and spiritual memories...” Betty J. Eadie, The Awakening Heart (p. 53).
In researching my family history, and collecting these stories, I often felt that I was guided to learn something. Sometimes I received a message from a dream. Sometimes an unusual “coincidence” revealed something, or led me to a place important for to my work. Sometimes, through extraordinary events people were brought into my life to provide help, an insight or an answer. This could all be just chance or perhaps there is something more…a spiritual purpose unfolding?
In The Awakened Heart, Betty J. Eadie (who writes about what she learned from a near death experience, and how it changed her life) theorizes that all people are spiritual beings living a physical life on Earth. As part of the human experience, a person has a “veil” placed between the spiritual and earthly worlds so that person is able to experience free will, and other lessons presented in the earthly world. These lessons are provided so that the spirit will mature and fulfill a special purpose here on Earth. Though the “veil” exists, if a person freely and consciously chooses they can tap into their spiritual gifts and abilities. I believe that just as you can choose to tap into your spiritual gifts, and inner power, you can open the “veil” to connect to your ancestry. The experiences and connections of family leave a lasting imprint on our identity, even if we are not aware of this imprint. When you choose to connect to your family (by conducting family research, practicing family traditions, or passing down a family legacy, etc.) or your heritage, a part of the “veil” is lifted. A part you is brought closer to the distant past, and the people whose lives shaped your own.
These are a few stories of interesting events that brought me closer to my family, not only in a physical reunion but also by revealing a more significant message.
My Guardian Angel
As a little girl, I knew I had a special guardian angel watching over me. I didn’t know her name but I felt her presence from time to time—gentle, reassuring. She saw beyond my rough exterior—buckteeth protruding from a belligerent smile, wild hair curling in all directions, faded jeans splotched with mud. I really think if she could get hold of me I would be tied to a chair and scrubbed clean. I would imagine the sharp bristles of her brush tearing through my hair then the steady tug and pull of my hair being smoothed into braids. I imagined being dunked into a tub of hot, foamy water as she scowled over the state of my clothing. She would know how to sew the hand-me-downs into new condition. I might even be scolded for the way I presented myself. She saw the best of me—the little girl I was afraid to be. Throughout my life I would feel her presence or have dreams of her, my guardian angel.
Who was this guardian angel? She was revealed to me as a real person when I was six years old. In one of the most vivid memories from childhood, I remember visiting with my father (who was separated from my mom) and showing him a flyer printed on purple paper from the YMCA. The flyer announced a father-daughter event, which had a Native American theme. People of color were definitely a minority in the town I grew up in; I was probably one of the first racially mixed children born in this town. I don’t recall any Native American families living in this town. The only time I would see Native American people come to town would be once a year, when a pow-wow was held at the campground, which used to be a Dakota settlement. So, of course, this event hosted by the YMCA symbolized a stereotypical portrayal of Native Americans—a romanticized version where little girls could be Indian princesses and their fathers, brave warrior chiefs. At the time I didn’t care about anything of that, I just wanted to hang out with my father.
My father almost never spoke about his family or what his life was like growing up. I can only remember two or three occasions that my father ever mentioned anything to do with family. On this special occasion, my father looks at the flyer and says to me, “I have a picture of my mother and father that I am going to show to you.” I felt a tingly feeling—a really strong feeling. Something inside of me just connected with the word “mother”. I knew then that my guardian angel was my grandmother, though I didn’t know her name. My father never did show me that picture, never did take me to the father-daughter day at the YMCA. What he gave me was unintentional, yet profound—I knew who my angel was.
Nile: Sista Gal & the Sight
My cousin Nile is like a sister to me. We have been separated all of our lives because we live so far apart, and a series of events kept our two families separated. Nile’s father, Uncle Roo is my father’s oldest brother. Uncle Roo was raised in Alabama while my father was raised in Indiana with his other seven siblings. My aunts and uncles in Indiana made an effort to reach out to Nile and I, to include us in the family circle (thank-you so much…my life is truly blessed!). After an uncle told Nile about me, and gave her my
e-mail address, we connected over the internet and our bond began from there. Eventually I was able to visit Nile in Alabama, but that’s another story…
Nile grew up hearing old gospel songs sung to her by Big Momma (our great-grandmother), Aunt Julia and other older relatives. Nile told me that these songs were passed down from generations of our family, that they were sung as our ancestors picked cotton in the fields. Nile has a strong sense of faith; it has been the one constant in her life. Nile also believes in what she calls “the sight”—intuition. Nile experiences “the sight” as a strong feeling, sometimes a dream or brief vision, sometimes a voice talking to her. Since I also believe in intuition, its one of the things that has brought us closer together as sisters.
Nile and I would often practice using our intuition. One of us would ask the other a question and we would answer—using only what intuition provided us with. When I visited Nile in Alabama, we were sitting on her coach, asking questions in this way. Nile asked me if I believed that spirits of loved ones who passed away would watch over us. I replied “yes”. Then Nile asked who her spirit guides were. I settled myself and focused on her question. What came to me was the name “Jane” then I saw a big, white house that looked worn down. Wood was exposed in some places. I saw a gathering of all these people coming forward—and I knew these people were our ancestors. Nile said she never heard of a “Jane” and didn’t like the idea of people coming to her! Through a remarkable “coincidence”, Nile and I would later connect with an older cousin who told us about our family history. I then began to search for the names he mentioned by using the Ancestry census. I was able to trace our family tree to 1870, to the grandparents whose roots we all sprung from: Jordan and Jane Martin. In our family, my grandmother Jane was never called by her birth name, instead a nickname—“Judge” was used. We also found the white house at a site where our family worked as croppers. I can’t say for sure if our ancestors are guiding our genealogy work, and giving us help when we need but I would like to believe this is true.
About a year later—in 2002—I was talking with Nile on the phone. We were giggling like girls, and rolling our eyes at the latest antics of our children. Out of nowhere, Nile shouts, “I smell a baby!” I had no idea what she was talking about. My first thought was to make sure my son was not getting into trouble. Looking all over the house, I saw nothing amiss. Nile was so insistent, “I smell a baby!” I just couldn’t convince her that what she was saying didn’t make any sense. It would be another year before I would understand what Nile was telling me…
Coming Home: Uncle Lee
When I visited Alabama for the first time, in May 2001 I really felt “at home”. As I drove away from the Atlanta airport, and headed into the countryside, a part of me felt so excited and yet so at peace. There was so much I wanted to see and do to catch up on the all years I had been away. My family was gathering for the annual Ford-Morton reunion and I looked forward to getting to know my relatives. The heart of the reunion was Uncle Lee, who had a gift for bringing people together. Uncle Lee helped reconnect Nile and I, and when I would have questions he was the once I would call first.
Uncle Lee is a tall man, who wears a jaunty driving cap. He has a smile that lights up his whole face and a deep, rumbling laugh. He likes to golf and though competition can get feisty, the game is always played in a fun spirit. Uncle Lee’s wife is my Aunt Rae. This year, Aunt Rae did not attend the reunion due to illness so Uncle Lee would not be staying in Alabama for very long, he wanted to get back home to her. Uncle Lee is the second oldest of the Ford children, he knew where the places important to our family are located. There was a small farm near Brent where my grandparents lived for a time; my grandfather kept hogs and cattle there. Uncle Lee, my father and some of their siblings also lived on this farm for a time. I think the farm was near a railroad tracks. The farm is gone now but the brick chimney and part of the foundation is said to remain. There is the Cooper cemetery outside of Centreville where my grandmother is buried. And, of course, all the stories Uncle Lee would tell on the way… I told Uncle Lee that I was having dreams about my grandmother and he replied that Aunt Rae was too. Uncle Lee told me how to get to the Cooper cemetery and said he was sorry that he could not travel with me this year because he had to get back home. Next year, Uncle Lee promised, we will go to all of those places.
Next year I was in Indiana attending the funeral of Uncle Lee—who died suddenly of a heart attack. Uncle Lee died in Centreville, not too far from all the places we were to visit. He died on July 7th, one day after his birthday (Uncle Lee was born in the home of his maternal grandfather, Big Poppa, who worked for the Coopers). The farm he lived on, as a boy was not too far away. The cemetery his mother is buried in is also not too far away. And ironically, Uncle Lee was attending a family reunion for his mother’s side of the family when he died so suddenly. Family had been so important to Uncle Lee; I couldn’t help but to think that he had come home.
In Indiana, the funeral for Uncle Lee was festive, a celebration of his life and all the gifts he had passed on. I was raised Catholic and never seen such a warm, joyous funeral. I had never seen all-out singing and dancing in a church. I had never seen the preacher leave the pulpit to shout his praise to the crowd. To be honest, I was ready for a change—the service was deeply moving. Family gathered at Aunt Rae’s house, her kitchen was stacked floor to ceiling with food. The neighbors were so sweet to do the cooking. The funeral brought us together as a family, and many memories were shared. It truly was an honor to Uncle Lee to celebrate his life in this way.
A year later, our family would be blessed with the birth of my second child. My daughter, Jaelynn was born on July 7th—the anniversary of Uncle Lee’s death and later, I found out, also to be the birthday of a very special uncle. I had reconnected with this uncle through the efforts of Uncle Lee, who, before his death, made sure that I would know the elders of the family. I can only hope to carry on the legacy he started with my research and this web page. And Nile—I believe you now—grin.
Lynn Mari, ©2006
More on Betty J. Eadie: Embraced By The Light: The Official Betty J. Eadie Web Site
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