Using Family History to Make Family History

Way out from the land of California comes word that Kirk and Daena Westover will soon be leaving for the Georgia Atlanta Mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for a period of two years. That will be an experience for them that no doubt will add to their family history in a significant way.

As is the custom they spoke in Church before their local ward in advance of their departure. Kirk, one of our great family historians, shared a memorable message of testimony that included a fair bit of Westover family history.

In blending these tales of family experience with the words of scripture backed by testimony Kirk is doing a great service to family near and far. He is showing how relevant the past lives of our ancestors are in our present day. He acknowledges their influence and applies the lessons of their successes and challenges. This is one of the real blessings of knowing our family from as far back as we can learn about them.

I especially appreciated Kirk’s comments about his father and my grandfather — brothers who like Kirk served as missionaries while both young men and later in life with their spouses. Both of these great men are gone now and I knew them both well and love them tremendously. But Kirk’s shared insight provides yet even one more delicious bit of detail that I never had before and I greatly appreciate that.

Instead of copying his talk word for word I am merely including his notes that showcase his stories of family history as well as quotes and scriptures he used in his address. Click here to download and read.

We will miss Kirk and Daena while they serve. Kirk is a steady source of great family history and we’ll miss that for the next couple of years as he makes new family history. We wish them the best.

(By the way, for those who can see the photo at the top — that’s a photo of Kirk and his brothers — each of them missionaries at one time — taken from another period of service from their parents in New Zealand when they were boys)

Our-five-Sons-New-Zealand-1

You Don’t Have to Know What You’re Doing

Over the course of the past several months as a new family history consultant in my ward I have engaged in a lot of conversations with my neighbors about the state of their family history and how they feel about doing it. Almost without exception I hear “If I only knew what I was doing I’m sure the work would be further ahead.”

I can certainly understand that sentiment. When I took it up a little more than four years ago our family history seemed an impossible hill to climb. And, to be honest, as I’ve worked on it I have come to the conclusion that it is work that will never truly be done. It’s just so much.

But as members of the Church we have expanded understanding thanks to both ancient and modern revelation. As I’ve considered my experience these past four years I have to admit that I’ve felt that “Spirit of Elijah” to the extent that my fears of doing family history work have all but vanished and the miracles I experience just keep happening.

That hasn’t happened because I know what I’m doing. It’s happened because I simply have tried, at last, to be obedient in this area of my life.

Perhaps Elder Bednar explains it better —

“These four words—‘Receive the Holy Ghost’—are not a passive pronouncement; rather, they constitute a priesthood injunction—an authoritative admonition to act and not simply to be acted upon (see 2 Nephi 2:26). The Holy Ghost does not become operative in our lives merely because hands are placed upon our heads and those four important words are spoken. As we receive this ordinance, each of us accepts a sacred and ongoing responsibility to desire, to seek, to work, and to so live that we indeed ‘receive the Holy Ghost’ and its attendant spiritual gifts.

I feel the Holy Ghost as I work on my family history. Doing my best is enough when I have the guidance of the Holy Ghost. Doing family history work is an act of obedience. And obedience unlocks the intelligence, revelation and miracles you need to get the work done.

In studying the loving doctrine of redeeming the dead which is our real reason for these efforts I have come to study the life and mission of Elijah more in order to understand this “Spirit of Elijah” that we speak about.

I found this curious exchange between Elijah and Elisha in 2 Kings Chapter 2: “And it came to pass, when they were gone over, that Elijah said unto Elisha, Ask what I shall do for thee, before I be taken away from thee. And Elisha said, I pray thee, let a double portion of thy spirit be upon me…And he took the mantle of Elijah that fell from him, and smote the waters, and said, Where is the Lord God of Elijah? and when he also had smitten the waters, they parted hither and thither: and Elisha went over. And when the sons of the prophets which were to view at Jericho saw him, they said, The spirit of Elijah doth rest on Elisha.”

Scholars describe the “mantle” of Elijah like a coat. Today we understand it as a calling, most closely associated with that of a prophet.

Elijah never tasted of death. And there is a very real reason for that.

He was the key holder of the sealing power through the Melchizdek Priesthood. Malachi the Prophet said that Elijah would return to “turn the hearts” and that happened in 1836 when he appeared to Joseph Smith in the Kirkland temple. Since no one could be resurrected until Christ came forth from the tomb Elijah was translated — meaning that he kept his body in a suspended state that left him protected from sickness and harm — so that he could physically lay his hands upon the Prophet’s head in 1836 and restore the keys of sealing.

Since that time you can mark the interest and the progress in the field of family history.

I’m sure Joseph Smith was overwhelmed by not only his experiences but also the scope of the work in front of him. His nephew, Joseph F. Smith, was given a revelation that we now know as Section 138 of the Doctrine and Covenants. It sheds light on the spirit world that awaits us all after we die. It also lovingly explains even better the doctrine of redeeming our kindred dead through the work we do in temples.

All of this is beyond our abilities in a singular sense. But given that its foundation is pure love — and given that we only require an obedient act of work — we have all the qualifications we need to get the work started and to get it done. Family History work is an act of faith, an action of love, and a way for us to prove our obedience. Nowhere in that does it say anything about expertise.

Of course, the more you work it the more expertise you will gather. That is just one of its many blessings.

For me, the lessons of revelation and the reality that we have others on the other side working these things with us and beside us are powerful enough evidences for me to work to qualify myself. I don’t know what I’m doing…but I’m getting there. And I’m being greatly blessed in the process.

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

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.

Memorial Day and Family History

What a gratifying thing it was to experience the things we did in the week leading up to Mother’s Day. My thanks to all family members who could participate. We asked a lot of people and actually the response we got was better than we anticipated. I know I put many on the spot and even took them out of their comfort zone by asking. I know for many the request just came too late for you to act.

And for that I apologize. But guess what? We’re going to do it again for Father’s Day. Now that we’ve done this once you get the idea of what we were trying to do.

What was accomplished was family history. As the pictures and the videos and now the audio stories attest to is that family history is so much more than names and dates.

But before we get to Father’s Day we want to encourage all families to make some serious family history plans for Memorial Day.

Memorial Day is, by design, meant to remember our dead. I know for some folks it has instead become the first great weekend of summer. And that’s fine as a means for gathering the family. But we advocate putting some thought into this weekend and not only visiting the graves of loved ones lost but also sharing their stories.

The Prophet Joseph, in attempting to teach “turning the hearts of the fathers to the children and the children to their fathers” described the doctrine as a “welding link”. Nothing brings us closer to our kindred dead than contemplating the message and missions of their lives. If possible, we hear their testimonies through the record of what they left behind. We learn their lessons.

These things have an impact not because we archive these stories on a website. This things have an impact when — just like the scriptures — we tell those stories over and over again.

My goal for my family this Memorial Day is to challenge my children to tell a favorite story of a family member, past or present. Let’s make Memorial Day more than a BBQ and flowers. Let’s make it a genuine memorial.

Perhaps this will give you some inspiration for when we ask for, share and tell the stories of our fathers and grandfathers next month. We hope you will participate!

Memories of Mom — Sandy Westover

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) “