"17 Miracles"

Wow!

Thanks you for all the kind remarks yesterday.

I really had gotten to the point of thinking no one was out there.

Your response startled and encouraged me.

Thank you!

I usually don't promote things on Good News!, but I'm going to today. D4 is in town for a visit and so D5 and her family joined us and we all went to see the movie 17 Miracles. The cinematography was beautiful and the story is about the true account of the Willey handcart company. I learned a lot that I hadn't understood before but most of all I came away determined never to take for granted my heritage and the price people paid so that I could live comfortably as a Mormon in this valley.

While none of my ancestors were part of the Willey or Martin companies, every line in my family goes back at least five generations in the Church and one line goes back six. Mr. J is also a fifth or sixth generation Mormon and one of his ancestors, Luke S. Johnson, was called as one of the first apostles in this dispensation by Joesph Smith. I don't know all that my own ancestors suffered in their treks across the plains, but I'm sure there were similar trials. Ever since I saw the movie I can't quit thinking about the suffering, the miracles, and the faithful people that are my heritage.

Go see "17 Miracles"!

Happy Pioneer Day!

Here in Utah we are celebrating Pioneer Day because 162 years ago today Brigham Young entered the Great Salt Lake Valley and established the Mormon Pioneers in the middle of this desert. They built forts and homes, cultivated the land, irrigated, and established an oasis in the wasteland that I now call home—a place where they could worship God without being persecuted.

I can’t help but think about my ancestors who were part of this migration and who paid such a price to come here. One of my grandmothers was about to deliver a baby and after many days on the trail, she couldn’t go any further. The rest of their company moved on while she and my grandfather waited. But there was little food. So he made her a bed under the wagon to protect her from the hot sun, took the gun, and went out hunting for food.

While waiting for my grandfather to return, my grandmother prayed that he would find something. While she prayed, a bevy of quail landed next to her. She reached out and grabbed two birds, wrung their necks and continued to wait. When Grandfather returned he was empty handed, but they ate the birds grandmother had caught and thanked God for the answer to their prayers.

As we are told in the book of Ether, one of the reason Orihah was a good and righteous king is that he “did remember how great things the Lord had done for his father, and also taught his people how great things the Lord had done for their fathers” (Ether 6:30). Even if you don’t live in Utah, take time to remember the pioneers in your family and to tell the stories of faith to those around you.

My Heritage

I can’t stop thinking about our trip to Cumorah. We had such a good time, but it was more than good. There was something almost transcendental going on. I was being tied to my roots in a spiritual way. And I watched as my children and grandchildren were drawn to their roots also. Obviously those roots include our pioneer heritage. So many people gave so much so that we could have the gospel. Martin Harris mortgaged his farm to pay for the printing of the Book of Mormon. Joseph and his family endured intense persecution. Everyone in those days paid a price to belong to the Church and while in Palmyra I felt such a kinship and tie to those people—an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

But there was more. I felt amazing ties to my Father in Heaven and Jesus Christ. Walking through the Sacred Grove is like being in a temple. The feelings are real, almost tangible, and my grandchildren were feeling those things also.

Luke turned five years old while we were there. His part in the Pageant was to be a Nephite child when the Savior appears. The scene is stunning as suddenly in the dark night, high in the sky, Jesus slowly descends to the earth. Once on the stage, Jesus walks down a flight of stairs, as people eagerly reach for Him and take His hand. Luke was one of those people and the last night we saw the production, he watched the coming of the Savior in awe as he always did, but as the Savior passed Luke looked up into Jesus’ face and said softly, reverently, “My name is Luke.”



That incident summarizes the feelings. When in Palmyra I felt like I was conversing with those who have gone before and with my Savior. While I didn’t say it, the thought was, “My name is Sherrie, and I am one link in this amazing history. This is my story, too.”