Last Saturday, David and I spent almost two hours on Skype reviewing Czech marriage records from the mid-1800’s. David is my husband, Gary’s, third cousin twice removed. They share a common ancestor, Marie Polakova (1817-1889) who married Vaclav Slaby (1815-1898). Since our trip to Prague in 1999 when we returned with 3,000 digital images of birth, death and marriage records, I have been spending untold hours extracting names on a dozen of Gary’s direct lines.
The work is hard. The older records are in barely decipherable German script, and the Czech language is unfamiliar to me. Yet I feel a joy that at times is almost transcendent. I deliberately speak each name out loud and wonder how long has it been since it was uttered on earth. Name-by-name, the family units grow as each marriage is extracted and the couples’ children are placed therein.
David patiently and carefully shepherds me through the records: answering innumerable questions, creating “cheat sheets,” explaining Czech practices, even dictating the most unreadable entries and emailing them to me in mp-3 files. Our debt to him is incalculable; our appreciation for his efforts will be eternal. For without David, Gary and I could not begin to do this work. There is no doubt that we have been brought together for this work at this time.
Yet sometimes I look with longing at the picture of my great-grandmother, Stathoula Zaharakis, which sits on my desk. I love this woman whom I’ve never met. Through her, I am. I long to do for her line what we are doing for my husband’s – finding, collecting, and connecting. But my database remains sparse because the records in Greece are not coming forth.
As I struggle to understand why the records for my husband’s family are available but not the records for mine, the Parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard comes to mind. The Lord has a timetable which is unknown to us. For some laborers, their time is the third hour; for others, it is the sixth or ninth. And then there are those who will labor at the eleventh hour. The message from the Lord of the Vineyard is clear and comforting – no matter when, the reward is the same.
And so I apply this principle to this circumstance. Some records have already come forth in the third and sixth hours. Some are coming forth at the ninth hour. And the last will come forth at the eleventh. But they will come forth; the way will open; the laborers will be prepared. I hope I will be privileged to be one of those laborers.
This past year, I was overjoyed when three members of my Greek family “found” me through our genealogy website, onefamilycircle.com. They are about my age, busy with work and family. Yet they reached out to make a connection, and a refreshing burst of excitement and enthusiasm swept over me. Perhaps someday we will labor together.
Meanwhile, I am learning and accomplishing much. I am gaining confidence in learning the very basics of a complex new language. I am experimenting with Excel spreadsheets and pivot tables to record information so as to correctly and efficiently identify which child belongs to which family. I am honing skills that will enable me to quickly and effectively tackle the Greek records that will come forth.
This summer, we’re returning to Prague. David will be there to help us and we will spend happy and fruitful days together at the Archives. There are more direct lines to research; more records to digitize; more families to bring together.
So I choose faith and hope, and I cheerfully and gratefully work on what is presented to me at this time.
Carol Kostakos Petranek is one of the Directors of the Washington DC Family History Center and a Volunteer at the National Archives in Washington, D.C.