“My family tree has many branches, both living and dead... but all equally important. I cherish the memories that make its roots run deep.” ~ Lynda I Fisher

Last year I ordered a DNA kit, spit into a vial, and shipped my saliva off via the US Mail to be analyzed.  I wasn't really as interested in learning about my ancestors as I was in learning my predisposition to certain diseases.  However, the ancestry reports were fascinating.  Most of my ancestry composition was as I expected - heavily European, with mostly British and Irish ancestry.  I did have extremely small percentages of some ethnicities that were a surprise to me, such as East Asian, Native American, Sub-Saharan African, and even some Japanese. 

Nestled among the reports on Ancestry I found one about my "DNA Relatives."  I really didn't pay much attention to this report until this week when I received an email from the DNA testing site that said a "relative" had sent me a message.  "Sandy" was requesting to connect with me, stating that we shared DNA indicating that we are 2nd to 3rd cousins, and she hoped I could provide some information on her ancestry search.  I looked at her page, where she had surnames of ancestors listed, and found my maiden name listed there.  Doubtful that I could provide any relevant information to her about the Meadows family, I replied to her message, telling her I would help with any information I knew.  What happened next was shocking to me.

Sandy told me that her great-grandfather was George Washington Meadows.  He had been married to her great-grandmother, Flora, and they had four children in Georgia.  She said she had searched census records and learned that he had moved to Texas, but her trail grew cold after that. 

I read her message several times, feeling somewhat confused.  My confusion stemmed from the fact that MY great-grandfather was George Washington Meadows.  Yes, I knew he had moved to Texas from Georgia, only he hadn't been married to Flora - he was married to MY great-grandmother, Annie, and they had two boys - Gordon, and my grandfather, Clifford.  So, we couldn't be talking about the same George Washington Meadows.

Long story, short - the DNA doesn't lie.  It was the same George Washington Meadows.  Apparently, he had a wife and family in Georgia.  We know little of what happened, but the facts we do know are troubling to me - he apparently left that family for a woman 20 years younger than himself (George was working as a day-laborer on Annie's father's farm in Georgia), moved to Texas, and started a new life.

George died in 1940, so I never knew him.  My daddy was born in 1935, so he probably didn't have many memories of his grandfather - I never heard Daddy talk much about him.  And the only thing I ever really heard my PawPaw say about George (who was PawPaw's father) was that his mother was 20 years younger, and she always referred to her husband as Mr. Meadows.

I have vague memories of Annie - we called her "Mama Meadows," and I remember visiting her in a nursing home - - a frail, sweet, little old lady.  I have some beautiful glassware that was hers.  But beyond that, I know nothing about who she really was.

And to me, the strangest part of all of this story is that no one in my family ever knew any of this about George.  My brother, who had traced the Meadows family history, had not run across this scandal, either.  As far as I know, my PawPaw never knew he had four half-siblings living in Georgia.

Lille Mae - my PawPaw's half sister

Sandy sent me a picture yesterday of her grandmother -- Lillie Mae -- she's the one on the left.  She was my PawPaw's half-sister.  So she would be my great-aunt. 

Granny & PawPaw

When I got this, it really hit an emotional chord with me.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe part of it was because I would've loved to have been able to call my daddy and share this information with him about these new relatives.  It also made me think a lot of Granny and PawPaw.  I miss them all. 

But more than that, it made me think about family, and life, and chance, and memories we make with those we love...

Even though I am appalled at the way George Washington Meadows apparently conducted his life, and the people he likely destroyed along the way, the reality is that if he hadn't married Annie Gordon, I wouldn't be here.  Nor would my grandfather, nor my dad.  And while I'm not thankful for how it happened, I am glad that George and Annie had Clifford... and that Clifford and Miriam had my dad.  And that my mom and dad had me.

And then there's the reality of time.  George Washington Meadows was born in 1865 and died in 1940.  Less than 80 years ago he walked this earth, but everyone who knew him here is gone.  All we have left of him are the census records, the grave marker, and the few stories that have been passed down.  So what does that mean for me? 

I think about my own family.  If I am blessed to live on this earth for several more decades, I will be able to make lasting memories with Lydia, Henry, and future grandchildren.  But the reality is that past their generation, I won't be remembered.  If I'm known at all, it will be just a few family stories that are passed down from those who do know me. 

But this shouldn't be a sad thought.  Instead, it should motivate me.  Because you see, even though George Washington Meadows lived a less than admirable life, he did add a son - my grandfather - to this earth.  And that son met and married my granny, who came from a Christian home.  And with them began a legacy of faith - one that I can pass on to my children and grandchildren.  A legacy that will have eternal significance.

Isn't that the only thing that really matters?  That we serve God in the brief time we are here, and that we teach our children and grandchildren to love the Lord and serve Him, too.  That we love those around us - whether we share DNA or not - and brighten whatever little corner of the world we occupy as much as we can.  That we leave this world a better place than we found it. 

I'm thankful that my new-found cousin contacted me.  But I'm more grateful for the reminders that came from that chance meeting.  And I pray that THESE people - the ones who share most of my DNA - will not only pass on the genetic information contained in the DNA that makes us family but that they will seek to pass on that which is more important than DNA -- a lasting legacy of faithfulness as members of the family of God.