Whispers from the Attic

There's a place in my house that I tend to avoid.
I hear voices there,
voices rising from the shelves,
from the old dusty trunk and the boxes on the floor,
long ago voices whispering to me.
Can you hear us?
Will you listen to our stories?
They are your stories, too, you know.
And I began to listen.

A few months ago my new book Those Who Came Before was published. Unlike my earlier books, Decision Making and Spiritual Discernment, and Fianna’s Story, I wrote this one because of the voices in my attic.

I have a haunted attic. It contains photos, letters, diaries, certificates, childhood memorabilia, and accounts from the lives of my ancestors. Some of them I knew personally, but many lived and died long ago. Through the objects in my attic, I catch glimpses of them; I hear their whispers.

In one folder are fragments of a fraktur, the highly decorated birth certificate of Maria Oberholtzer, my eight times great-grandmother. Maria was born in 1769 on a colonial farm in Pennsylvania. She married the neighboring farmer’s son, had three children, and died when she was only 37. Her daily life centered on farm and family; her community was the local church. I touched her certificate, and wished I knew more about her.

A fat folder contains my father’s sermon notes. For fifty years, he was an unpaid minister for the country church we attended, the same congregation where his family had worshipped since Maria’s time. As I read the pages, I could faintly hear his gentle voice urging worshippers to follow the path of Jesus in loving and forgiving, working for peace, and seeing all people as one family. I remember how well he practiced what he preached, loving and forgiving even during painful church conflicts.

A certificate from 1876 announces that great-grandfather Edward Wenger is of “good moral character,” that he “passed a Thorough Examination in Orthography, Reading, Writing, Arithmetic. . . ” and was certified to teach! And so he did for many years, mostly in one room schools.

From my mother’s journal, I learned how hard it was to teach eight grades in one room, especially when not everyone spoke English. But teaching was her calling; she loved helping others to learn. Another teacher, cousin Caleb Bucher wrote that “teaching children really gets to one.” Caleb ended his long career by instructing prospective teachers.

These voices and many more whisper to me in the attic. As they tell their stories, they remind me that what they lived for did not end with their deaths. These people whose blood I carry have influenced how I live — I am a teacher and a country woman. I, too, have a church community and try to follow Jesus’ teachings.

We are not only influenced by our ancestors’ voices. Other voices have powerfully shaped us, too. These voices may belong to teachers, mentors, friends, or even an enemy or two. What are they whispering? How are they shaping our lives — now and in the future?

A few days ago, I drove past a colorful “Happy New Year!” sign that was followed by a question: “2025: How did we ever get here???” It’s an important question. I wrote about how I “got here” in Those Who Came Before. I invite you to consider how you “got here,” the voices that have shaped you through the years, the messages you’ve heard.

There’s another question, however, that I think is even more important: Here we are, and what do we do about it? How do our lives influence those around us and those yet to come? What kind of decisions do we make to shape the world we live in?

Even if we’re not teachers in classrooms or ministers speaking to a congregation, we teach by our daily living. How we live whispers into other people’s lives.

May we choose to teach patience and forgiveness. May we choose to live out the truth of a God of love. May we choose to teach faithfulness and caring for others. May these be the messages our lives pass on.

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Nancy’s new book Those Who Came Before, is available on Amazon, from Masthof Press, or by contacting her directly.