“You don’t choose your family; they are God’s gift to you, as you are to them.” —Desmond Tutu
Summertime is often a time for family reunions – and this past summer, we were doubly blessed. My husband’s mother’s family came together for their triennial reunion, a tradition they’ve maintained since 1965. Ellert and Sophia Knudtson had two boys and nine girls. My husband has 21 first cousins on that side of the family, and because of those reunions, they grew up knowing each other.
The family originating in North Dakota grew to span from California to Massachusetts; now Alaska, Florida, and Hawaii have been added to the mix. Sisters have a strong bond, and it was probably due to them that the reunion is still going strong. Except for Alice, who is 110; that older generation is gone, but their children, grandchildren, and some great-grandchildren continue the tradition.
My mother’s family started having annual reunions in 1974. The Thompsons and the Winnicks descended from ten siblings. My grandmother, born in 1892, was the oldest of the Thompson cousins. The reunions can be big affairs with family primarily coming from the Midwestern states and the original homestead of Kosciusko, Mississippi (Oprah’s hometown). Although slavery affected the historical records of most Afro-Americans, we know that Isom Thompson lived in 1701.
You may be in a family that frequently sees one another, you may have a small family, or you may be like the young man we met, whose grandfather insisted that all family live in the immediate vicinity.
It does not matter; it is family, and without family, you can be like a tree without roots.
I feel blessed that my family and my husband’s family have roots. And these roots remind us of the challenges our ancestors overcame, paving the way for our current freedom and prosperity. It is up to us to continue the process.
