Westovers in Rexburg
Jeff Westover

Land and Legacy: The William and Ruth Westover Story

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William Ruthven Westover only lived to be 42 years old. Those of us who are older than that do not have much of a problem remembering 42 years of time. It just is not that long.

But for a man who lived such a short life William sure had to learn the lessons of patience that come with waiting long periods of time.

From histories that have long existed we know that William and Ruth had to wait seven long years to marry. And we learned that one of his last mortal acts before he died was turning in the paperwork to complete his claim in Rexburg putting the Westover ranch at last in the Westover name. For whatever reason, William had to wait 13 years to complete a 5 year claim.

What we don’t know from those histories was why William had to wait so long for these things to happen. Those questions we answer in our newest video, presented below.

I was really hesitant to put William’s name on our project list this year, though he falls into the line of natural progression we have pursued with these videos. I hesitated because I wasn’t confident we could find enough information about him and his life to really even make a video.

I was wrong.

While we do not have a journal and really even lack much in the way of direct evidence of William’s life and activities I learned a huge lesson in perusing the histories of those around him to build the story we tell in the video.

We tend to forget that the world was smaller then. Lives of family and neighbors affected each other in significant ways and never was that more true than in the life of William Westover.

For William as a boy and a young man it meant doing the work of the head of the house. Due to his family’s circumstances William was thrust in to the role of provider. This was the reason why William and Ruth waited to marry. Without William’s work his siblings and cousins simply did not eat.

Surely William and Ruth wanted their own place so that they could raise their own family. For whatever reason they chose to wait to marry until a time when they could leave Mendon. Once they married that is exactly what they did.

When they moved to Rexburg it was once again due to a family situation. William and Ruth moved to help his big sister Emma’s husband, Walter Paul.

In the research of this story I came to really love both William Westover and Walter Paul. These men were separated in years and in talent. But they were connected through marriage and the land they pursued together.

William didn’t have to take a quarter claim from Walter in order to have a farm. He could have simply filed his own claim with the government. There was plenty of land to go around. But he did it to help his sister and brother-in-law and their large family.

This is what families did in those days. This is what William had done all of his life.

William took a quarter claim because both he and Walter knew he could develop it. It was a desperate situation that took years but William eventually conquered the task.

Another man who took another quarter claim from Walter was not as successful. One history of Walter Paul suggests that the struggles of the quarter claims worked by William and this other man led to Walter Paul’s financial disgrace. That history suggests some bitterness over those circumstances.

I did not find evidence of that.

The newspaper clippings and court records that exist suggest that nobody in Rexburg escaped the financial turmoil of the times. The years 1893 and 1894 were times of panic and financial depression. Country-wide many were affected and many were destroyed. Those living in remote Rexburg, Idaho suffered greatly.

Walter Paul was a high profile public figure in Rexburg. He was the Justice of the Peace, the Coroner, a president of a Quorum of Seventy, a leading figure in the first local theater and a prominent merchant in a furniture store and a hardware store. While he had a large family with many older children who worked hard too Walter and Emma did not keep a farm.

William and Ruth worked their property. They had at first a small dugout home and then later a house that was built on the ranch property. They worked for years to bring successful crops and that only came after building canals to bring water to the property.

The other claim, for whatever reason, didn’t develop and didn’t prosper. When Walter had to file for bankruptcy for his in-town businesses his farm land north of town was thrown into jeopardy. It languished in the courts as administrators at the land office debated what to do with the land in settling Walter’s affairs. Their indecision was complicated by the fact that one quarter of Walter’s claim was productive and the other was not.

Stipulations of the Homestead Act of 1862 stated that 10 acres of the 160 acres had to be started within 6 months. That’s the part most are familiar with. But when you divide a claim as Walter did you fall under a different set of rules. These rules put all the effort that William and Ruth were making at great risk of loss.

The answer that came to Walter was the result of his work as coroner. The town of Rexburg had a cemetery closer to its center in 1893 but nobody was happy with it because it was filled with lava rock that made it very difficult to manage. It was hard to dig in and placement of graves was haphazard. Rexburg officials were looking for an alternative spot for the town cemetery.

It was Walter’s suggestion, as a settlement to the court issues surrounding his bankruptcy, that he donate the unproductive quarter claim to the city for its cemetery. This was a suitable solution to most associated the case – except for federal land office administrators. They still wanted William’s portion.

A compromise was struck only when William agreed to file anew, a commitment that basically required him to start over in waiting another five years before the land could officially become his.

Of course, William was not sick when this deal with struck. But knowing the end of his story – and the story of what the ranch came to mean to his children and grandchildren – well, it makes the ranch that much more important to me today.

As I’ve stated before, I did not grow up with the Westover Ranch in my life. That was a place of the stories of my grandfather. Only in recent years have I visited the ranch and have invested myself in it emotionally.

Learning William’s story draws me closer than ever to it. To me, it is sacred ground.

In fact, I would even tell you that I’ve entertained thoughts of purchasing plots in the Rexburg cemetery for my family because I want dearly to be so associated with the Westovers (and the Pauls) that are buried there.

This, once again, shows the power of digging into our ancestor past.

William is, like his father, a man I want to know and to converse with. As men of this earth we have little in common beyond our last name. But as children of God and as family to each other I value the lessons of their lives and the sacrifices they made for me and for my children to follow.

At the end of the video you will see a list of all the histories we used in producing this story. Reading these histories give me a new appreciation not only for those the histories are about but also for their children and grandchildren. These individuals are the grandparents and great grandparents that I’ve known growing up – people I have admired and looked upon with wonder for their goodness.

These are all amazing generations. I am glad to know them beyond just names on paper. They inspire me to try to be a better person.

Jeff Westover

Grandma Sophie’s Pioneer Story

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It is Pioneer Day weekend here in Utah. Each year around the 24th of July Utah pioneers are featured, celebrated and remembered.

We have many pioneer stories in our family history. To me one of the most compelling is the story of Grandma Sophie.

Grandma Sophie was not a Westover. Her granddaughter, Mary Ann Smith, married Arnold Westover, son of William and Ruth Westover.

Her story is part of many Westovers, however. And on this Pioneer Day we think it is important to share her pioneer experience.

Sophie was from Denmark. There she lived and married a man named Peter Pedersen. They had seven children together before a terrible disease took Peter’s life. This, of course, threw Sophie’s life into chaos. Death had already robbed her of two of her young children and now she found herself a widow.

In the days following his death Sophie grieved and dreamed a dream. In her dream she saw two men carrying suitcases and an angel in the dream told her the men were coming with a message for her from the Savior. Weeks later, as she hanging her laundry out on the line, she saw two men at a distance, both carrying suitcases. Instantly she recognized them from her dream. As they drew closer she rushed to them and asked, “What is it that Jesus wants me to know?”

This is where Sophie’s pioneer story begins.

These Mormon elders taught Sophie and baptized her and those children in her family who were old enough to join the Church. As she accepted her Church membership she was promised that if she stayed faithful she would have the privilege of shaking hands with a prophet of God.

She moved and sold her property, preparing her family as many other Mormons did to “come to Zion” in America. With her five remaining children, all of them very young, she boarded the ship Thornton on May 4th, 1856.

Immediately tragedy struck for Sophie. Her 8 year old son Thomas fell from an upper deck and broke his neck, killing him almost instantly. He was buried at sea.

After arriving in the United States the company she was traveling with became the Willie Handcart Company — and already you know much of the rest of her story.

Oddly enough, of all the tales told of members of that company Sophie’s story is relatively unknown. But her situation was just as desperate and the outcome, for her and for her remaining four children, was just as big a miracle. She experienced it all and with her children survived the trial.

Sophie survived by selling her precious things for items needed for survival. At one point, as food grew scarce, she traded her wedding bands for venison, hiding the meat inside her blouse. The family had their own handcart, powered mostly by Sophie and her ten year old son, Peter. Walking were daughters Emma, age 6 and Hannah, age 4. Three year old Otto was pulled along in the handcart with their belongings.

After arriving in Salt Lake in November of 1856, Sophie and family were taken in by Salt Lake City saints, like most of the other Willie Company pioneers. They were at this point completely destitute of means and spoke very little English.

She was assigned and traveled to Manti in the winter of 1857. On one of her first nights there in that valley she attended a meeting presided over by President Heber C. Kimball. Also attending that meeting was a man who joined the other Manti saints who had gathered for the occasion. His name was Albert Smith.

President Kimball very plainly told the story of those Danish pioneers who had been relocated to Manti. He explained that many of the women of those fall companies were left widowed and they needed volunteers to take them on.

Albert had already had one experience with plural marriage and it wasn’t a good one. He was hesitant to do it again. However, feeling compelled by the Spirit, he raised his hand to help. Albert was then introduced to Sophie. She didn’t speak English and he didn’t speak Danish.

Neither did President Kimball. However, as Heber C. Kimball walked down the aisle of the hall he passed Sophie and then stopped, returned to her and shook her hand. Speaking in English he said, “The Lord is well pleased with you.” Somehow both Heber and Sophie were able to understand each other during this brief but memorable conversation. In later years Sophie would testify that the promise of the elders who baptized her were fulfilled in that meeting when she shook hands with Heber C. Kimball, a member of the First Presidency, an Apostle and a prophet of God.

A short time later Sophie traveled again to Salt Lake, this time with Albert. There they went to the Endowment House and were sealed.

And there the pioneer story of Grandma Sophie really begins. She lived until 1898 and over the more than 40 years she lived in Manti as Sister Sophie Smith she completed a story of love and service that should never be forgotten. She became beloved to Albert, who had many children from earlier relationships and who carried a burden in the community as a farmer, a builder and whose home was a social center for the pioneer community.

Her story overlapped the impressive pioneer story of her husband Albert, who joined the Church and traveled to Nauvoo as a younger man. He later became a member of the Mormon Battalion. Both Sophie and Albert were united by their common testimony of Mormonism and the principles of love it taught was practiced by each in their relationship and their home.

Albert left a detailed journal of his pioneering experience. Sophie did not but she told her stories to her children, the children she bore to Albert Smith, and to their grandchildren. A simple Google search now results in access to different versions of her story passed down through various lines of her family. In fact, these stories have proliferated online over the past five years as more and more family history work has been compiled from different branches of the family. Each story brings a little more detail to the life and service of Grandma Sophie.

I personally learned of Grandma Sophie just four years ago as I was researching her as part of our involvement in an LDS trek re-enactment. As I immersed myself in the study of the Willie Handcart Company and especially when I visited the site of Rocky Ridge, Wyoming — a site of one of the critical nights of the Willie Handcart Company experience — I had one of those spiritual experiences that can only come from doing family history.

I felt her presence there — with me, one of her many grandsons. It was a soft, reassuring confirmation that she was there and made that sacrifice not only for her family but for her conviction. It was as real an experience as I have ever had and I consider it a very sacred moment.

It taught me that even though many of my pioneer ancestors lived their lives with devotion and had no need for my efforts in doing temple work on their behalf that they had testimonies to share with me that would prove of value to me in my day.

That experience changed my life. Now as I work to learn the pioneering stories of every generation on every side of our family history it is with grateful appreciation that I seek them out. I know that in a coming day I will be able to look them in the eye, hear their voices and feel their embrace. I want to know them before I get there.

Jeff Westover

Scouring the History of Others to Tell the Story of William and Ruth

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We’re soon to release a new video telling the story of William and Ruth Westover.

In truth, all of our other efforts have led us to this point.

William and Ruth are kind of a focal point for the many modern generations of Westovers due to the Westover Ranch in Rexburg, Idaho. The ranch was the homestead for William and Ruth and became central to the lives of their children.

Researching William and Ruth has been frustrating.

Although their history is relatively recent as compared to others we have profiled in the videos we produce there is actually very little left or recorded to share of their story.

In many ways they led tragic lives. William as the eldest son of Edwin and Ann was called upon to perform a long family service from around the age of 8.

He stayed in Mendon until he was well beyond the age of being an adult and I am certain it was to support the Findley family property and that of his mother in Mendon.

He delayed his marriage to Ruth by seven long years. Ruth was a local girl, herself a child of pioneer parents. Ruth and William were close to the same age.

While they did forge a life together and grew a large family they didn’t live long enough to see most of their children mature.

William died at the age of 42 of cancer and Ruth died 10 years later – far younger than most of their parents and grandparents.

All this has been known about William and Ruth. I’ve wanted to know more.

I’ve searched everything I can think of. The Church has no record of patriarchal blessings for them. The Rexburg ward records and those in Mendon don’t even mention them. Court and probate records are silent. Other than the few written histories about them that have existed for years and the few pictures we have of them I can find nothing more.

But where I have found some information that I didn’t know before came from indirect sources – through the histories of others who knew them and who associated with them.

I will save it for the video to showcase. But there is one bit of information I want to get out there now about William in particular.

He felt very, very strongly about the land that the Westover Ranch sits on.

How he came to acquire it, what he had to do to work it, and how long it took to happen is a real story that we’re yet to fully uncover.

But what we do know is that he desperately worked to complete his claim and put the property in the name of his family before he died. He filed the last of the paperwork just 8 days before he passed.

Perhaps this is why I heard my grandfather speak with such passion about the ranch.

I never understood it as a kid.

After all, I grew up in California. The ranch was a place from the imagination of my grandfather – a place where his memories had huge significance to him. He mentioned to us many, many times how much he wanted us to go to the ranch and make it a part of our lives.

My Uncle Darrell was no less passionate about it.

I can understand why for them it was important.

The children of William and Ruth – the parents and uncles and aunts to my grandfather and my great uncle – had to stay and fight for that place after their father died.

The family all invested many years and lots of sacrifice for that piece of property – and in the process they became beloved to each other.

I don’t know the history of that land completely since the days of that generation of the children of William and Ruth. I know the property that we call the ranch is now just a part of what it once was to William.

But I know that a later generation of Westovers came together in the 1970s to preserve it as a family gathering place where the legacy of the family could be celebrated and remembered.

I find it inspiring that the great grandchildren and great-great grandchildren of William and Ruth on many sides work to continue to keep the ranch in the family.

I often wonder what William thinks of all this.

Many of his grandchildren and great grandchildren have now passed over and they can no doubt converse. He knows what they did. He is likely aware of what we are doing now in relation to the ranch.

To me, these generations of William and Ruth’s posterity have been wise. Their efforts to keep that piece of dirt in a remote place as a means of remembering who we are and where we come from resonates loudly with me. In many ways, what they have done there is what we’ve tried to do here on this little website.

The ranch helps us to remember who they were. It bears testimony of their goodness, their service and their sacrifice. It is a witness to all that they believed.

Rexburg is an area rich with history of families who staked a place of love and devotion. Many families have their stories rooted there. The Westovers are just one of many.

We have had to delve a little into the histories of others to find more of the story of William and Ruth. They didn’t have the time and they died too young to write much of their story themselves.

But their story has survived, just as the ranch has somehow survived.

We’re finishing that video soon. If you have anything we can add to it – pictures, old letters, journals, any kind of memory of record – I plead with you to contact me so that we can include it.

I think William and Ruth’s story is important to know and to share.

Jeff Westover

Memories of Mom — Sandy Westover

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Editor’s Note: I did ask a few of my children to try to contribute some memories on audio for Mother’s Day knowing full well they had some great stories to tell. Every family does.

While that didn’t exactly happen they did go to social media today to publicly express their feelings about their Mom. And funny how what they ended up doing was what I was hoping for in the first place. So, being the sneaky Dad that I am I lifted what they posted and archive those comments here. Some day they may prove to be valuable insight not only by providing a glimpse of their mother but also a bit of themselves through a couple of snapshots in time: those moments they recall, and the time now they have taken to record them. Here they are, unedited:

sew2Enoch: “My favorite memory of my mom had to be back when I was in high school playing baseball. She was my personal coach. She did research on how I could be stronger and feel better with my current diet at the time. (If I’m being honest it was not very good. But she made it work) She played catch with me on occasion. She’d take me to my early morning work outs without complaining. While driving to those work outs she’d give me a motivational speech every time out. Which really lit a spark for me personally. I wasn’t very confident in myself cause I was some random home schooled kid no one expected to make an impression and ultimately make the team. She helped me in making my protein shakes every time before and after work outs. It finally came time for the coaches to post results for who made the team. And I’ll be honest. I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to play, bad. My mom was up with me that night and some time around 2 or 3 in the morning, again without complaining she took me to the school where the final rosters were posted outside the door. I remember the drive there like it was yesterday. Shaking like hell. My mom jamming out to Colbie Calet or however the hell you spell it. And when we finally got there (after 5 minutes) I saw that I made the team. We celebtated the whole car ride home and even days after that. As much as I would like to brag and say I did that all myself, I can’t. My mom is probably 90% responsible for me making that team. Even after games started she treated me like a king. Went to every game. Continued to motivate me. Supported me in everything. Helped me keep a level head and a somewhat healthy diet. Though I do remember getting a baconator at Wendy’s after almost every game… Yes she’s been my coach my entire life. She’s been my best friend. And that’s something that I’ll never forget and something I’ll treasure till the day I die.”

sew6Maggie: “Hi mom, thanks for birthing me and saying funny things that I don’t understand and for supporting me through so much and so many mess ups and for often tolerating my humor. You’re totally hip. I love you so much.”

Allie: “I’ve never seen eye to eye with my mom on everything, but never have I known a person who loves and encourages as unconditionally as she does. She crazy, she tells weird jokes, doesn’t make sense 98% of the time, doesn’t understand any of the jokes we tell, but above all who really needs her to do any of those things when she’s who she is? My mom makes me laugh hysterically because she’s a goofball and she doesn’t realize it. It’s who she is.

One of my favorite memories is when I was younger. I wanna say 10 or 11. I was homeschooled at the time and my mom set some rules, if you don’t finish your homework, you can’t go out and play with your friends. Simple as that. My mom taught me everything I know in terms of academics. Math, English, reading, writing, proper use of their, there, and they’re. The works. How she managed to do it with 7 kids is beyond me. Anyway, one day my mom gave me this pretty intense (intense at the time and for my age) math exercise. I remember it really well…it was 3 full pages, 16 problems on each page, long division on all 3 of those pages. I hated them with a passion then, and I still dislike them to this day. The only difference is I actually know what I’m doing now. All thanks to momma.

sew3I remember her giving me the assignment and explaining to me the step-by-step rules of long division. For the life of me I couldn’t figure it out, I would skip a step and not know which one. I loved doing the single digit problems because I felt like the smartest kid on the block, but when those numbers doubled up I considered myself doomed. I became angry and frustrated because I wanted to go play and be done with math, but I didnt know what I was doing. So I asked my mom for help, I pointed out the problem I couldn’t solve and she walked me through it again, she told me to take another swing at it and then she would watch me and see what step I was missing. “Allie you keep forgetting to bring that number down. If you don’t do that you wont find your answer.” So I did it again, skipped the same stupid step. My mom being the patient woman she is, wrote out PEMDAS at the top of the page and said “follow these steps and you will find your answer.”. Tried. Failed. Again. But my mom STILL sat there until I got it right. Back then it took about 10 minutes a problem because my mom was very thorough in her explanations. So I finished that problem and expected her to help with the rest, but she didn’t. ” Nope, I want you to do EXACTLY what we did with this one, and do it to the rest of them. If you get stuck again, let me know. But I want you to know how to do this.”. I was tired, I was fed up, the kids were outside livin’it up having a blast with their water guns out on the front lawn, and here I was stuck inside doing long division. Worst mom ever.

sew4Not. Looking back I realize if my mom didn’t push me to learn that stuff, I wouldn’t be confident in those things like I am today. I didn’t see the importance of knowing how to do math when I was 10 year-old. But now I do. Because whenever I do anything math related, my mind immediately reverts back to what my mom taught me when I was a kid. She was loving but firm in teaching us things. It’s helped all of is grow into useful and educated kids. Because of the things our mom taught us before we went to school, we have been successful in our academics and in our jobs. My freshman year was my first year of school…ever. I made the honor roll every single trimester throughout that year. And I have my mom to thank for that. Most kids are able to be successful at the freshman age because they went to preschool, kindergarten, and elementary school. I had none of that, and I don’t regret it because I had the best teacher. To homeschool 7 of your kids…is just about as patient as a person can get. I applaud my mom for her efforts in helping each of us learn. Granted there were times I wanted to be in school for other things, my mom taught us the basics. I’ve been successful in my education lately because of things I learned being in school, and also because of the things my mom taught me as a kid. Things keep going uphill and I will be forever grateful to her for taking the time to love and teach me.
Thanks for everything, momma”

Abby: ”One of my favorite memories of my mom was when she got sick of talking to us so she pretended she lost her voice for a whole day. She’s the greatest.”

“Ooh I almost forgot about this one. My mom on one of her sleep deprived Benadryl trips. I know you hate this, Mom, but we hold these moments dear.”

Madelyn: “The happiest of mothers days to my dearest mom Sandy Gillen Westover

sew5She is the walking definition of “age is just a number” and she’s my hero. Mom, you really have no idea how much you mean to me. I know I’m not the best daughter and I don’t deserve a mom as perfect as you. But I love you so so much and I’m so lucky I have you in my life not only as a mother, but also a supporter, and mentor, and a best friend. I love you so so much.
I have a ton of favorite mom memories ranging from frozen yogurt dates to doing the dishes together. But here’s one that’s one of my personal favorites.
On Christmas Eve a last year, me and my sisters made the mistake of watching the mid season finale of season four of the walking dead. (Spoiler someone beloved to me died in this episode) after this episode I was a complete mess. A pathetic human cucumber drowning in the tears over grief from the death of a person that never actually existed. But honestly I cried for hours. And it was Christmas Eve. Me being me, I went to go find my mother in search of comfort because I believed she’d make it all better. She did. I walked into my parents room with a blanket wrapped around me and a tissue shoved up my nose and I plopped my sad excuse of a self on their bed. My mom saw me in distress and frantically asked me what happened. I explained to her the situation and she hugged me and rubbed my back and told me everything was going to be ok. She even threw in a sympathetic “awh honey” in there. I looked up with tears in my eyes while my mom held me. I looked over at my dad and he gave me the most FED UP LOOK OF HIS LIFE. He looked me dead in the face and said “are you kidding me? That’s what you’re crying about? GET A LIFE.” This made me laugh because Its true. This was the life I was leading, but aye it’s a very emotionally involved show. This made my mom feel even more sympathetic for me. So, it being Christmas Eve, she grabbed a half eaten chocolate bar and got a Christmas bow from her closet and carefully put the bow on the chocolate to give to me. This is just one example of the extent of my mothers love. How ridiculous was this situation? Probably broke the scale of pathetic but my mother didn’t care because she loves everything and everyone so much. Happy Mother’s Day to my hero. (Sorry for the sad pathetic story. Thanks for loving me anyways mom) “

Jeff Westover

Memories of Mom — Evie

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Editor’s note: Aunt Evie created a bit of a stir this week by sharing her memories of her mother. It seems to have set off a flood of memories of Evie…and I could listen to these stories all day. As these thoughts were sent to me I thought it would be great to compile them in one random post, which is what we’ve done below. The funny thing is that when I received these things I had the distinct feeling I get when I sit in Evie and Darrell’s family room just chatting with folks who have gathered there forever…it’s a feeling of being at home. My profound thanks to all for contributing these thoughts. — JSW

Young'uns of Evie and Darrell

Young’uns of Evie and Darrell

Kirk: “I tend to only remember moments, not stories. I remember Mom woke us up for seminary by smothering our faces with kisses. I remember her singing in the kitchen. I remember her laugh. I remember that my brothers picked her up and passed her about from one to another just because they could. I remember her getting frustrated once and loudly hollering, ” Great gooey gobs of gopher guts.” stuff like that.”

Kim: “Some of my favorite memories of Mom are things that happened around the Holidays. The looks between Mom and Dad, either with no words at all, or with just one word, “Darrell”. That usually signified the violation of “don’t get anything for me” instructions. There were presents with special messages from Santa about sharing with brothers and sister in handwriting that looked familiar. There’s one memory that is particularly close to my heart. I can still close my eyes and see what I thought was the most beautiful birthday cake I had ever seen. I may have transformed it in my mind over the years, but I see it as big and white and beautiful with candles burning. It had to be the best birthday cake ever, because it was to celebrate the birthday of Jesus. I don’t know how old I was at the time–maybe 5 or 6? That would make that event almost sixty years in the past, yet there hasn’t been a single holiday since that I haven’t recalled the impression. Whatever the actual details of the event, I knew in my heart that this was the birthday of Jesus and that it was the most wonderful birthday ever, because my Mommy told me.”

Kirk (to Paul): A special memory to me is the feeling that I got whenever Mom and Dad came home from the temple in New Zealand. I truly looked forward to it without really understanding why. It suggests that I was able to feel the spirit at a time when I may not have fully recognized what it was. At this time it was acceptable for parents of children to serve as ordinance workers and it was at this time that Dad and Mom were getting their initial training in the temple. Did you experience this?

Paul: “When counseling parents who come in for recommends I often share with them that if they will go to the temple regularly they will create in the hearts of their children the desire to go to the temple… and that I knew when I was 5-6 years old that I wanted to go… because of the love and joy that I felt when my Mom and Dad would come home from the temple in NZ. I knew that it was a place that I wanted to go because I wanted to feel what they were feeling…I wanted to partake of the fruit of that tree. Yes, I absolutely experienced that… and it made waiting to turn 12 seem like forever!”

Editor’s note #2: The picture that appears at the top of this post has a story behind it. I know several know the story. It’s appropriate for Mother’s Day, for sure. But I think the story of the picture is better told by someone other than me and I think all those with a connection to someone in that small not-so-perfect picture needs to know it…any volunteers?