Extra Ordinary Roots

The hero draws inspiration from the virtue of his ancestors.

- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

In one sense we are all the heroes of our own stories. In crafting my life story, I do draw inspiration from the virtue of my ancestors. Sunday, July 15th was the annual (as of now though, I am told it will be biennial - a little disheartening since it has been three years since I was last able to attend, and now next year will provide no opportunity) family reunion of my paternal extended family, the family of my maiden name - Knitt - yes, it is Germanic (Prussian actually) and you do pronounce the "K" so in rough phonetics it is "Kuh´- nit, " not knit (as in lower case "k" and only one "t"- like what one does with two needles and a ball of yarn). That is one commonality we have all shared through the years - educating the world on the proper pronunciation of our name. Along with one of my cousins I have helped to compile quite a lengthy genealogical history of our family. My cousin, a freelance historian and genealogist, has done the majority of the research however and I, mostly the compiling, especially before he had a computer at his home, but nonetheless it has been a shared passion. To date we have records dating back to the late 1600's.

Johann Friedrich Knitt, who at some point Americanized his name to "John," was born November 29, 1839 in a rural farm area called Schwetzen outside of Glowitz, Stolp, Pommerania, Prussia, which now lies within the present day political boundaries of Poland. On June 12, 1869 just shy of his thirtieth birthday, he set sail for America on the immigration ship The St. Bernard from Bremen, Germany to the port of New York. Upon arrival he traveled further to make his way to the state of Wisconsin where worked for several years as a stonemason in Eureka and Berlin, Wisconsin until August 1875 when he purchased what would become our family's homestead farm in Larrabee Township. Johann married Henrietta Brandt in February of 1874 and they had five children - three girls and two boys. He was worried that the "Knitt" family name would die out in America, however, one of his boys, my great-grandfather, Henry, had ten children (eight boys, two girls) and his brother, Otto, had three, two of which were sons.

Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city. - George Burns

I do not believe that when Johann set sail from Germany in June of 1869 he could have possibly imagined that 138 years later the Knitt family would be flourishing in the United States as it is today. Nor that he would have the road on which he established his homestead farm named in his honor, "Knitt Road." Now the households of his descendants number in the hundreds. We are a large and varied family that has spread far and wide, but still we are all united by the same origins, the same roots. As teachers, artists, homemakers, doctors and health care workers, engineers, military personnel, scientists, clergy, missionaries, writers, film makers, bankers, lawyers, athletes, entrepreneurs, researchers, race car drivers, fire, police, and EMT personnel, and yes, still farmers too, as well as many, many, other occupations and great friends, neighbors, citizens, and families. Knitts are definitely making their mark on history. Knowing where you came from is an important part of knowing where you’re going to. I love the diversity and stability of such a large extended family and the identity it provides. Being a part of this family is one of the first places where I learned to accept and love others for who they are, encourage their strengths and overlook their weaknesses.

Families are held together by choice. Members are alike and unalike, yet there is comfort in the sameness and excitement in the differences. When we respect and relish both conditions, we can truly call ourselves family. - Maya Angelou

In his book, Self Matters, Phillip McGraw states that everyone can trace who they've become in life (their "life story" so to speak) back to ten defining moments, seven critical choices, and five pivotal people. I first read this book just over five years ago as I was about to turn thirty and first felt the need to rediscover myself. At that point I didn't take the time to do all of the exercises set forth in the book, but they have been one of those things bouncing around in the back of my mind that I think about and ponder from time to time. This is an intriguing exercise from which I think everyone would benefit. I'm still working on unearthing my 10-7-5. The first defining moment in my life that has shaped me into the person I've become, however, was the death of my father, while I was just six years old. This may sound odd, but I view that experience as a blessing because of the resulting gifts that it brought to my life. So, what about those gifts?

For me, the death of my father brought me into a very deep and personal relationship with God, our heavenly Father, at a very young age. Never once did I think, "Who is this terrible, monstrous, heartless God who would take away my dad?" In fact, for me it had the exact opposite effect. It caused me to be drawn to God and I wanted to know everything about Him and His Church. I was fascinated with the concept of heaven because that's where my dad was. Because I was so young, I didn't question the concept of heaven and an afterlife, I embraced it. Even as a college student one of my first priorities in living away from home was to find a church home. I will confess though that at a couple of brief points in my adult life when I have been involved in negative communities that overwhelmed me, I have somewhat neglected my relationship with God and did not do my part in nurturing it as I should have, like a long time, close friend that moves away and becomes involved in their new life in their new city and gradually loses contact with you. In this case, I was the one who moved away, not God. All in all though, my relationship with God that was solidified at such a young age, I can identify as one of the underlying constants and defining factors of my life - he is always with me.

Another gift that I believe was a direct result of my father's death is that I am very in-tune with reading people's underlying emotions and motives and seeing their hurts and pain. I have a great capacity for empathy and accepting people for who they are and meeting them where they are. I forever find myself in the position of being an advocate of those who others are quick to label negatively. I have the ability to see God in most others. I seek out the good where others see bad. I usually recognize the hands and feet and face of Christ in others. I think that this stems from being a six year old and witnessing the extended illness of my father with cancer prior to his death, during, and afterwards as well as the reactions of our immediate and extended family and circle of friends - being a watcher and a listener in an attempt to make sense of the world around me. The children of our family were involved in the whole process, but at the same time when you are six in an adult world, when serious things are taking place, people take for granted that you are involved in your own little world of imagination and play things and are easily diverted, but in reality, when you are six the world is your classroom and you are a sponge soaking in everything going around you.

From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we no longer know him in that way. So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! - 2 Corinthians 5:16-17

The third main gift that I attribute to experiencing my father's death and my resulting life afterwards is that I internalized at a young age that everything in this world is fleeting and life is short. It has greatly affected my value system. I value people and ideals and intangible things like making memories and traditions. I have little use for the material or superficial. What matters is how you treat people. When I listened to Mark Lawrence, the once (and soon-to-be future) Bishop elect for the South Carolina Diocese of the The Episcopal Church, speak this past May while addressing a women's group, I thought he expressed this concept in an analogy that was the best I have heard. It has so stuck with me since then and it comes to mind often. He compared our life experiences to playing a game of Monopoly. He explained to us that he was a very aggressive, take-no-prisoners, passionate Monopoly player and he had tried to pass his love of this board game on to his own children as they were growing up. However, as he would inevitably put all the other players in a position that made a comeback on their part and an attempt at winning seem hopeless, they would one by one give up and walk away from the game and he would be left alone to "put it all back in the box." He may have "won" proving his superior Monopoly playing strategies and skills, but when it's all back in the box and the kids left one-by-one disenchanted, what had he "won" really? He wanted to communicate to us that at the end of this life all the "stuff" which seems so important and consuming, all goes back "into the box." The only thing we take with us in to the next world is our love for others and the way we treated the people with whom we came in contact.

All this is NOT to say that I am any sort of saint. I am not. I sin. I hurt people. I do things wrong. I get angry. I lose my temper. I make mistakes, lots of mistakes - just ask my husband or my mother or... hmm... just about anybody with whom I am close...or better yet, ask me, I'm well aware of all my faults and shortcomings. These three things, though, are a part of my roots. They are my equilibrium, the foundation upon which the other aspects of my personality and character are built. When I waiver and stray from these "building blocks of me", as I inevitably do, these are what draw me back in to what and where I should be. They are the gifts God gave me through my father. When I am functioning at my best, these basics about my person are evident to all with whom I come into contact. When I am functioning at my worst, they are the ideals upon which I can focus and to which I strive to return. They give me strength to work through the adversities which cross my path.

My dad, Donald Henry Knitt, Sr., is part of my extraordinary roots. Because I was six, for me my dad never left the superhero phase. I knew deep in my heart that he loved me unconditionally. I had no vision of his faults or shortcomings as perhaps some of my older siblings may. He read to me, every day. He danced with me in our living room. He played games with me. He let me be his helper. I remember having snacks with him after he would cut the lawn. To this day, I love cutting the lawn and the smell of fresh cut grass. It is a simple pleasure for me.

"Honor your father and mother" -- this is the first commandment with a promise: "so that it may be well with you and you may live long on the Earth." - Ephesians 6:2-3

I attempt to honor my father by the way in which I live my life. I try to regularly stop and take a litmus test, re-evaluate and re-group. I want to live in manner in which he would have been proud. Part of honoring my father, is also honoring my father's family. I am proud to be a Knitt. Most of my online user names and emails incorporate all of my initials "BRKM." The "K" is an important part of the whole, which composes my self-image and identity. Some of being a Knitt for me means being a person of integrity, ingenuity and fortitude, honest, passionate, genuine, intelligent, spiritual, generous, resilient, independent, stalwart, pragmatic, practical, determined, staying true to one's beliefs, creative, visionary. These are obviously ideals which are exhibited by different extended family members at different times, and I call upon the strengths of my roots in different situations in which they are appropriate. Having an identity and a connection to my roots though enables me to persevere and borrow strength where I otherwise might not be able to do so alone.

Your Name

You got it from your father
It was all he had to give
And right gladly he bestowed it
Its yours as long as you may live.
You may lose the watch he gave you
And another you may claim
But whenever you are tempted
Be careful of his name.
It was fair the day you got it
And a worthy name to bear
When he got it from his father
There was no dishonor there.
Through the years he proudly wore it
To his father he was true
And that name was clean and spotless
When he passed it on to you.
- Annonymous

One of my dear friends is a deep thinker. This past winter as we were conversing one day, he shared with me an impromptu "homily" of sorts reflecting on the "living stones" of 1 Peter 2. He related to me his own addendum to the chapter with the Love of God being the mortar which holds all of us rough hewn living stones together into to the body of Christ. I cannot do his homily justice here because he has a beautiful gift for language and words that I do not. I wish I had recorded the moment in time in which he was telling it to me. I do know that I will never look at the gorgeous stone silos built by the hands of my immigrant, stone mason turned farmer, great-great-grandfather in the same way. Now in the stones I see the members of my extended family with all of their unique, individual rough edges and cracks and blemishes that make them beautiful individuals, and the mortar the Love of God that holds us together as a family and a"body." Knowing that you have a place to belong, where you are loved, and accepted in an entity that is bigger than yourself, that you can return to at will but are not tethered, gives you strength to blossom and grow as an individual.