Lena Gomolka

I come from a long line of bag ladies. My great-great grandmother, Lena Gomolka, arrived on Ellis Island shortly after World War I at the age of nineteen. All of her belongings were packed neatly into half-a-dozen-or-so mismatched bags. She had spent the previous several years of her life working in eastern Poland's potato fields, where her first baby was born. Apparently, after giving birth in the middle of a field, she wrapped him up like a papoose and kept working. She passed away shortly after my father was born in 1964, so I don't know very much else about her youth, but when she got older, she had beautiful long white hair. She outlived her husband, Peter, by 25 years, living on her own despite the invitations of her children into their homes.

And not one motion her gesture could I forget,
the prettiest bag lady I ever met...
Pushing her cart in the rain, then gathering plastic and glass
She watched the day pass
Not hour by hour, but pain by pain.
-mewithoutYou, Paper-Hanger

Most of the ladies in my family have carried painful burdens in their bags: alcoholism, abusive husbands, divorce, depression, sickness, poverty, prejudice and racism, heartaches, teen pregnancy, and the curse of the extra-wide polish birthing hips. But they have also carried joy and laughter, a love for singing although we are terrible at it, resourcefulness, olive complexion, large green eyes, and a knack for baking and gardening.

Although I carry some of the things I've inherited from Lena, like her pride and independent spirit, the Lord has helped me to drop the pain of the many of life's troubles along my journey. He's filled my bags with peace, confidence, climbing shoes, joy, education, memories with great friends, books, a huge and loving abnormally-configurated family, grace, passions for problem-solving, mountains, children, and so many more things.

Please share what you know about your heritage.