A few times a month, I get an email from FamilySearch.org saying, “We have found a new memory about…” and then the name of one of my ancestors. This type of info is pure gold for family historians. I enjoy getting these emails because I’m the defacto family historian and enjoy learning about my heritage and the people in my family tree who have been lost to my generation. Whenever I mention a few of these names at family gatherings, my siblings and their progeny raise an eyebrow and say, “I didn’t know that.”
Sadly, the ancestral information I get through the website is from family historians focusing on someone else’s family tree. No one in my generation knows anything about our ancestors because no one tells stories or writes anything down. I’m getting my new information from strangers.
What will your great-grandchildren know about you? Will they know what sort of work you did? Will they know about your talents, skills, struggles, or successes? Or will you be just a name and a couple of dates on a family tree, wedged between people they’ve never met?
Here’s my point: family stories matter. They matter a lot. Family stories don’t just tell people where they came from—they show them who they are. You do more than share stories when you take the time to tell your story, write it down, or record it on your phone. You’re sharing parts of yourself with your descendants. You’ll be remembered, and perhaps they will benefit from your guidance. You’re giving future generations a gift that only you can give. You’re telling them what it felt like to live your life with all its messy, beautiful moments.
Taking on the role of family historian might sound like a big responsibility. But it’s easier than you think to get started. All it takes is one memory, one story, one little thread to pull. Once you start pulling, you’ll be surprised how much unravels.
Why Family Stories Matter
My wife got a hand-written letter from her great-grandmother a few years back. G-grandma was well past 80 and wanted to write down a bit of her story. When she was six years old, she lived in a cabin on the Kansas plains with her four-year-old sister and her father. Father left home for weeks at a time, traveling for work. The girls were left alone, and the six-year-old took responsibility for the homestead: carrying water from the well, collecting eggs, tending the animals, collecting firewood, and such. The family remembered great-grandma as a hard woman. Upon reading the letter, my wife understood why. G-grandma was on her own at six, with a lot of responsibility. But that part of her story was never told.
That’s what family stories do. They fill in the blanks. Without those stories, we lose the little details that make our ancestors feel like real people. We miss out on the laughter, the heartbreak, and the lessons they lived. Family historians are the archive for such stories.
How Family Stories Build Belonging and Self-Worth
When my wife read that letter, something shifted for her. She didn’t just see her great-grandmother as the stern, no-nonsense woman people remembered. She saw a little girl, scared but determined, carrying more weight than she should have. That connection—who her great-grandmother was and why she was that way—gave my wife a new understanding. It also gave her a deeper appreciation for the strength that runs through the women in her family.
That’s what family stories can do. They remind us we’re part of something bigger. They connect us to the people who came before us and help us see how their experiences shaped the family we know today. When we hear about their challenges and choices, the thread ties their lives to ours. Suddenly, we’re not just floating around on our own—we’re anchored.
And it’s not just about family history. These stories tell us something about ourselves. Maybe you see your stubbornness in a great-uncle’s refusal to give up on his dream. Perhaps you realize the quiet kindness you pride yourself on is the same trait your grandmother used to hold her family together during tough times. Knowing where we come from can give us a sense of identity, a kind of emotional inheritance that says, “This is who I am. This is where I belong.”
Family stories also help us see value in our lives. They remind us that every struggle, triumph, and moment we live adds to the tapestry. Someday, someone might look back at us and feel the same pride, connection, and worth when we read about those who came before us.
When we know our family’s stories, we don’t just learn about them. We learn about ourselves. And that can be one of the greatest gifts of all.
For Family Historians, It’s all About Leaving a Legacy.
That’s why it’s worth taking the time to collect and preserve these stories. But how do you start?
Sometimes, all it takes is one tiny spark. For me, it was an old trunk I found in our attic when I was a boy in the 1950s. The trunk held my mother’s memorabilia: school report cards, family photos, postcards, vital records, and such. I could sit for hours and rummage through the trunk. Each time I returned, I found something new. When I found something new, I’d ask my mother about it. She would tell the stories with pride and sometimes embarrassment. As she did, my connection to family grew. Over the years, I’ve become the collector of family stories. I didn’t set out to be the family historian; it just happened that way.
Maybe you have a trunk like that, or maybe your spark will come from somewhere else. A hand-written recipe card. A family heirloom. Even a favored family phrase like “Measure twice, cut once” can be enough to open the floodgates. My uncle always said that,” you might think. “I wondered where he got it.” And suddenly, you’re remembering his stories about being a carpenter or how he lost the tip of his little finger.
And as you collect these stories, you’ll start to see connections—threads that tie them together. Maybe it’s resilience, like my wife’s great-grandmother living on the Kansas plains at six years old. Maybe it’s humor, like when your cousin got his head stuck in the banister at Christmas. Or maybe it’s something entirely unique to your family. Whatever it is, those threads will create a rich tapestry, showing you not just where you came from but where you fit in.
A Gift Only You Can Give
So, what will your great-grandchildren know about you? Will they see your name on a family tree and wonder, or will they know the stories that make you come alive? The answer lies in the stories you choose to share—stories only you can tell.
Your life is a thread in the fabric of your family’s history. When family historians take the time to preserve memories, they’re doing more than recording facts. They’re passing down lessons, laughter, and a sense of belonging that will ripple through generations.
Like the letter from my wife’s great-grandmother or the treasures I discovered in my mother’s trunk, your stories can anchor those who come after you. They’ll learn not just where they came from but how they fit into the bigger picture—and maybe even how much of your courage, humor, or determination they carry within themselves.
The blank page isn’t as daunting as it seems. All it takes is one spark, one memory, and one story to start. And before you know it, you’ll leave a legacy that matters far more than you can imagine.
Your family’s story is waiting. You’re the perfect person to tell it. So why not start today? Take the initiative. Begin to gather your family’s stories as family historian. You don’t have to make a grand proclamation; they’ll pick up on your interest by the questions you are asking.
