Where did they come from?

How did they live?

Why did they leave?

Time and again, such questions haunt us as we study the faces of our ancestors in worn, faded photographs. We come to love these people whom we've never met, yet to whom we owe our mortal existence. If they are from our native land, we can journey back easily in our search for answers. But if they came from a foreign country, our quest becomes an international adventure as our yearning to know grows ever stronger.

One of our Meridian readers, Anna Louise Hetzel, shares two very different experiences that show how the Spirit of Elijah prompts us—and others—as we seek answers.

The Castle Garden Dream

“In 2006, we were planning a trip to Europe with my sisters and their husbands to visit family history sites. Because we would be arriving a day before the others, we wondered if we could visit the area where my husband's family had lived in Germany. We were uncertain as to the actual villages, but knew the general area. I had learned about a regional Evangelical church archive, and made an appointment to visit there with the hope that they would have church records after 1798, since they are not in the Family History Library. Up to that point, I had been a ‘one dimensional' researcher, having read German parish records for years, but never having done U.S. or Internet genealogy. I felt, however, that I needed to turn over all possible stones before our trip.

“On Fast Sunday before our departure, my husband and I made it a matter of fasting and prayer. I was curled up next to Mike having a wonderful Sunday afternoon nap, but dreaming that I was on the computer going back and forth between two or three screens trying to figure out a family puzzle. Instantly I was awake with the impression to go to the Castle Garden website and look for my husband's 2nd great-grandmother. Within literally less than a minute, I had found the family's immigration with her parents' names. A little more sleuthing led me to websites with e-mail contacts for the village registrars in Germany. I discovered that an archivist had extracted all the parish records for the entire county and placed them into family groups, cross-referenced with the families they married into. That book is used by all the church and county archives. In a matter of days, my husband's family tree had extended from 1825 back to 1575.”

The Journey to Pommern

“My grandfather was born in 1862 in a part of Germany that was given to Poland after World War II. When we visited the village where my great-grandmother was born, an old Polish woman noticed my sister admiring her garden. She came out very angrily, believing that we were the family of the former German owners who had come back three times trying to reclaim the property. After our guide explained who we were, she became very friendly, telling us that the old cemetery was located a mile from the church and telling our driver how to find it.

“In Europe generally, burial space is in short supply. Unless the family pays a large amount, after a decade or two the remains are moved to a common grave. Cemeteries, therefore, are not usually a source of family history information. When the Poles came into Pommern in 1945 they desecrated the German cemeteries, taking the old iron cross grave markers and melting them down for other uses. As we entered the cemetery, imagine our surprise to discover three old 19th century tombstones lying in the tall grass against the fence. Because one had the surname of my great-grandmother, we photographed it. I still didn't get especially excited, since it is a very common surname. I knew that the records from that time period were among the few from the area which were available on microfilm in Salt Lake City.

“When I began to research the records I discovered that there was a fifteen-year gap in the birth records--the exact time period necessary to link this tombstone with the appropriate family. I continued extracting the dozens of Kruegers in the village, but could not determine which family the person on the tombstone belonged to. After several dozen hours of research, I was especially prayerful one day as I entered our local family history center. I looked again at the information, took my best guess, and placed this person into the family that felt right. Several families took shape that day.

“A few days later, I was able to find a death record that matched the tombstone. I had placed him in the correct family--and he was my 2 nd great-grandfather's first cousin!

I often say, and firmly believe, that those who do not believe in modern-day miracles do not do family history. It is a labor of love which is richly rewarded with miracles.”

Family history is a journey that takes us to places near and far, and connects us to individuals who share our genes and our dreams. How has your heart been turned? What words of encouragement or stories of inspiration can you share with our readers? Please consider sharing your comments and stories by submitting them to: meridianfamilyhistory@gmail.com.