Editor’s Note: In Matthew 1 and 2, the story of the Birth of Jesus is preceded only by an account of the genealogy of the Messiah. Jesus’ lineage is traced back 42 generations, from Abraham, through King David and to Joseph.  This genealogy, or genesis in Greek, binds the past and present together in a way that has relevance for all families. With November being designated as the Month of Remembrance and December paving the way for Christ’s Birth, looking at one’s heritage is a fitting way to embrace the love promised to all generations.

I never knew my grandfather. My family never discussed him in any way. His grandchildren never knew his date, place of birth or the kind of man he was.

So it was a long-awaited thrill when I received my maternal grandparents’ birth certificates in the mailbox one Halloween – leading me to finally “meet” my grandfather.

Recognizing my Uncle Ed’s handwriting, I eagerly tore open the envelope to find two photocopies of “Testimonium ortus et baptismi” – birth and Baptismal certificates – embossed with the official stamp of Poland, for Jacob Kwasnik and Marianna Goldyn.

My grandfather died 10 years before I was born, and my grandmother and her children never spoke of him, at least not in English. Nor did they talk about ancestors or Poland. The papers were my key to a door bolted shut.

I was thankful I took high school Latin and did well enough to still remember and translate much of the printed information. The greater challenge was deciphering the information, also in Latin, filled in by the parish priest’s 19th century penmanship.

My heart skipped a beat when I noticed a chart at the bottom of the page for the names of the child’s parents. I never knew who my great-grandparents were.

I gasped when I realized the column naming the child’s parents also identified grandparents. I was uncovering my genealogy! My grandfather was son of Joseph Kwasnik, son of John and Marianna (nee Prus), and Agnes Stepien, daughter of Bartholomew and Sophia (nee Kopec).

I flipped to my grandmother’s certificate to learn she was the daughter of Joseph Goldyn, son of John and Magdalena (nee Fornal), and Anna Turbak.  A fold in the original rendered Anna’s father’s first name indiscernible, but her mother was Agnes Salek. My heritage emerged from the shadows.

I reread their names aloud, savoring the sound of each. As a child, I was fascinated by names and their meanings – especially the Catholic custom of naming children after saints. I always admired St. Mary Magdalene and St. Agnes and was thrilled knowing they were patron saints of my great- and great-great grandmothers.

I wondered, “How long has it been since anyone uttered their names in prayer?” Learning their names made my ancestors real. Two days after receiving the certificates in the mail, at Mass on All Souls Day, instead of praying for deceased ancestors, I found joy in naming each one.

In the weeks following, I located my grandparents’ birthplaces on maps – they came from different towns in southeastern Poland. In my grandmother’s region, one Catholic church dates back to 1100 AD. I was stunned to imagine the generations of my family handing down the faith.

It’s now two years later, and my excitement over ancestry remains robust. I spend time combing through historical and ancestral materials. I have learned that when my grandparents migrated, thousands of Poles were dying of starvation. I realized their silence about their past may have resulted from their choice not to hand down stories of possible starvation, political upheaval and death. I am humbled, and my prayers are filled with gratitude for their lives and sacrifices.

Weeks after I received those certificates, my son Jon and his wife, Amy, announced they were expecting their second child.  Immediately, I asked all my heavenly connections, including my grandfather, to pray for my new grandchild.

When Arlo LaMantia was born healthy this past July 21, my prayers were answered. I believe my grandfather in heaven was praying with me and for the safe delivery of this latest descendant. July 21 would have been my grandfather’s 126th birthday.