More Communion of Saints, please!

I recently found myself sucked into the vortex known as genealogy. It started innocently enough. My husband and I had been discussing what to do for our 25th anniversary next year. With our second child starting Catholic high school then, we’ll be lucky to afford pizza out, let alone a big trip, but I immediately thought of Cong, Ireland. My husband’s family is from there. In case you aren’t familiar with it, watch “The Quiet Man” with John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara. Who wouldn’t want to be from such an idyllic place?

Thinking about where my husband’s family is from made me wonder about my own Irish roots. My dad is mostly of German descent, with a dash of Dutch and French thrown in. My mom’s family is a mix of Irish, English, German and Native American. They have both done some genealogy work and had given me their 4 generation charts, so I pulled them out and got sucked in to family history research. I was anxious to find my own Irish connection. Maybe Pat and I could visit another scenic Irish town!

After 3 weeks of genealogy, I have yet to find my Irish family, but it’s been very exciting anyway. Lucky for me, other people have already researched parts of my family. With a few Google searches, I added 5 generations to one line of my mother’s family tree. I found scoundrels: three brothers sent to the new world with their father’s money to establish businesses. One of them gambled it away instead. They even changed the spelling of the family name, perhaps to avoid the wrath of their father. We also have a hero, one James Farris who was killed in 1776 taking food supplies to Ft. Pitt. The individuals we thought were full Native Americans clearly were not. Then I found another Native American that we didn’t know about. I found two separate lines of the family from Scotland, and we didn’t even know we were Scottish! And the Irish? Zilch. I still can’t connect any of my ancestors to Ireland!

I went into the research hoping to find a quaint Irish village to call mine. Instead, I have become amazed at the movements of my ancestors. They came from Ireland, Scotland and Germany, moving west through Virginia, Kentucky, Illinois and Missouri. All of these migrations culminated in Vince walking through a room to get a computer report and seeing Shirley at her desk, then stopping to say hello. I’m quite sure Jeremiah wasn’t concerned with my parents meeting when he left England for Creelsboro, Kentucky, but I’m grateful he did! It’s an amazing plan that God had for all of them. I’m sure they, like me, didn’t always understand what He had in mind, but I’m so happy they persevered.

Before I started this crazy quest I already had a big family. My parents are each from families of 8 kids. I have 48 first cousins alone. After doing this research, I am surrounded by so much more! As a lifelong Catholic, I’ve been a big believer in the communion of saints. I beg intercession from all the St. Catherines regularly and I’m sure St. Terese of Lisieux is tired of hearing from me. But now, I have this whole other posse in my corner! Ironically, they were mostly Protestants, but I’m sure my (in genealogy speak) “ggggrandparents” Isabella and Henry are delighted to pray for me. In return I’ll be asking God to forgive the errant brother who gambled away his papa’s money!

Margaret of Sweet Springs, MO, pray for us!