There is a standing joke among some of my friends that I am a white Mexican. This is attributed to my Spanish and ethnicity. What they don't realize is how closely Mexico figures into my family. My great-grandfather emigrated there around the turn of the century to escape religious persecution. There he lived until the political turmoil caused by Pancho Villa caused him to return to the States. Shortly after returning, my grandfather was born. Had he waited a little longer my grandfather would have been Mexican by birth, and thus I would have been part Mexican.
While he lived in Mexico my great-grandfather accomplished many things. He studied law and became a somewhat successful lawyer. He raised his family. He practiced his religion. He loved his church and gave himself fully to its service. It seems almost a trait of generations long past to devote oneself so fully to a religion.
Part of living in Mexico and serving his church included translating hymns from English to Spanish. I remember as a child, living along the border we would often sing songs in church in both English and Spanish, looking through the hymnbook to find his name printed above the hymns he had translated. It gave me immense pride to think someone in my family had so meaningfully contributed to the church. Those hymnbooks have since been replaced by ones that give only credit to the author and songwriter.
Today, while at church, I saw one of the old school hymnbooks. It took me back to my childhood as I rifled through the pages. I asked for, and received, that book so I can keep it and show it to my children when they are older. I want them to appreciate their heritage and know of the devotion their forefathers had. I want it as a reminder to me to strive harder.
As I flipped the pages I came upon one song he translated. It happens to be my favorite hymn, although not because he translated it. I don't know why it is my favorite. I have always loved the music and words. So I was happy that it was he who translated it.
I hope great-grandpa's brand of old school dedication can be passed from me to my children.
While he lived in Mexico my great-grandfather accomplished many things. He studied law and became a somewhat successful lawyer. He raised his family. He practiced his religion. He loved his church and gave himself fully to its service. It seems almost a trait of generations long past to devote oneself so fully to a religion.
Part of living in Mexico and serving his church included translating hymns from English to Spanish. I remember as a child, living along the border we would often sing songs in church in both English and Spanish, looking through the hymnbook to find his name printed above the hymns he had translated. It gave me immense pride to think someone in my family had so meaningfully contributed to the church. Those hymnbooks have since been replaced by ones that give only credit to the author and songwriter.
Today, while at church, I saw one of the old school hymnbooks. It took me back to my childhood as I rifled through the pages. I asked for, and received, that book so I can keep it and show it to my children when they are older. I want them to appreciate their heritage and know of the devotion their forefathers had. I want it as a reminder to me to strive harder.
As I flipped the pages I came upon one song he translated. It happens to be my favorite hymn, although not because he translated it. I don't know why it is my favorite. I have always loved the music and words. So I was happy that it was he who translated it.
I hope great-grandpa's brand of old school dedication can be passed from me to my children.
