Author Archives: Rebekah Richards

About Rebekah Richards

Born before the internet age, I recall reading my way through the set of encyclopedias in my parents home. In addition to non fiction, I also enjoy a good novel and love the written word. Music was a staple in my childhood home, I love to sing and often sing too loud. When I was 11 years old I went with my grandma and dad to visit Grandma's family in West Virginia where they had lived for generations. I fell in love with "my" people and have spent a lifetime learning their stories. I graduated from Brigham Young University with a BA in History and am passionate about people and their stories, those who have paved the way for the life we live, those who impact our lives daily and those whose lives our decisions will affect. I am the sister to six wonderful siblings, the wife of my best friend and the mother to four very above average children. Most of all I find deep hope in the gospel of Jesus Christ and want to follow Him.

Learning the Music

Ernest Shepherd, my great great grandpa, was born into a large, musical family in 1871.  His father and mother had joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints prior to his birth and the family moved from their home in Fawley, England to Paris, Idaho when he was six years old.  Good with his hands and with a love of music, Ernest carved and whittled his first violin from a wooden orange crate, He took a few lessons and learned to play on his own.  His daughter, Ada, remembered falling asleep in her upstairs bedroom to the sound of her father’s violin and other members of the orchestra who had come to practice for upcoming events and dances.  Ada learned to play the piano and Sunday afternoons were full of music at home while visitors came and went.  She remembered that as they played on those Sunday afternoons, “he insisted on every note being just right, always patient with me, and we loved the Sunday afternoons together.”

I can imagine a little girl falling asleep to the sweet melody of her Father’s violin.  Yet, he didn’t want that to be her only experience with music so he patiently taught her through every mistake to hit each note correctly, and become a musician herself.  As she grew she joined the orchestra and they played together at events throughout the year.  
 
Our Father plays the sweet melody of redeeming love.  While it is beautiful to hear, He doesn’t just want us to be hearers only and entreats us to come follow, come practice, come play, come learn the music of the gospel of Jesus Christ.  He wants us to play with Him the beautiful strains of redemption, eternal life and joy.

The Journey

In 1916 and 1917, books containing the histories of Greenbrier County and Monroe County, West Virginia were published.   The histories give no sources but tell the story of my fourth great grandfather, Tristram Patton, who at the end of his life owned nearly 2,000 acres that straddled the border of the two counties.    According to the stories, Tristram was born in Ireland, emigrated as a young man to Philadelphia where he taught school, participated in the Revolutionary War and then joined by his younger brother, Robert, came to western Virginia where they built mills on Second Creek and farmed the land.  In 1808, Tristram married Jane Nelson and together they had 14 children all of whom lived to maturity and 13 of whom married and had children themselves.  
 
Over the years, I have researched each one of his children and their families, connecting with many of his descendants and discovering family Bible’s, letters, pictures and stories passed down through the generations.  I have joined with distant cousins with the goal of finding Tristram’s family in Ireland.We hired professional genealogists and made a trip to Ireland to learn how to use the Irish records that exist as so many have been destroyed.
I joined a research project and became adept at using the Ireland Registry of Deeds as we made abstracts of every deed that pertained to the Patton family from the beginning of the registry through the early 1800’s.  We have scoured the Public Record Office of Northern Ireland.  We have used dna to connect to genetic cousins, one who can trace their line back to Ireland, and had the great fortune of meeting Marcus Patton who lives in Northern Ireland and has the records his father kept of his own extensive research on the Patton family.  Yet with all that I have learned and experienced, I still do not know who Tristram’s parents are.  
 
“So often we get caught up in the illusion that there is something just beyond our reach that would bring us happiness: a better family situation, a better financial situation, or the end of a challenging trial….Sometimes in life we become so focused on the finish line that we fail to find joy in the journey….There is something in each day that can bring gratitude and joy if only we will see and appreciate it.” (President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, October 2012)
 
I may never know the names of my fifth great grandparents.  Yet, while the end goal is still not achieved, I have loved those who joined me in the pursuit and been blessed by the people and stories I have found along the way.  There is so much joy in the pursuit of our desires, our dreams, and our hopes and so much satisfaction in the way it expands my soul.  Keep dreaming, keep striving, the pursuit is worth the effort.

Fill the Whole Earth

When my grandparents sold their cabin, I claimed an old platform rocker that was situated near the large front window.  The rocker was a gift given to my great great grandmother, Eliza Ann Lewis, by her brother when she married in 1893.  The rocker sat in Eliza’s kitchen and while it was used as a place to sit while her hands were busy, it could also be transformed into a bassinet by well placed slats and a cushion, keeping her children close and under her nurturing care. 
 
Though she had little opportunity for education, she had a natural aptitude in caring for the sick and was often called on in their rural community.  My grandma was born in her home.  A doctor attended but after he left, it was Eliza’s careful eye and quick action that cleared Grandma’s blocked airway preserving her life and all the lives that would come after.    
 
Eliza’s presence was felt by loved ones snuggled under the beautiful quilts she made and in the homemade gingham bibs she would mail for grandchildren who lived far away. 
 
Her presence was in her pantry full of garden fresh produce carefully preserved.  It was in the plates of food her children carried from her kitchen to sick and elderly neighbors and continued in the plates of food her children carried from their kitchens to elderly and sick family and friends.  
 
From her small, rural home in Paris, Idaho she sought to fulfill the prayer to  “Remember…all their families, and all their immediate connections, with all their sick and afflicted ones, with all the poor and meek of the earth that the kingdom, which thou hast set up without hands, may become a great mountain and fill the whole earth.” (D&C 109:72)
 
Her daily kindness, faith, work, caring, love and generosity have rippled outward through generations as an example and witness of the love of God for His children.  Though our efforts and our sphere may seem small, the Lord can cause them to “become a great mountain and fill the whole earth” with His love.

Failure is When You Give Up

Recently, I was editing an AI transcription of a cassette tape recorded by my mother in November of 1974.  My parents had moved to Virginia a couple of years earlier when my dad was stationed at Fort Eustis as a transportation officer in the United States Army.  Long distance phone calls were expensive so my mother would mail her mother “newsy” cassette tapes and her mother would respond in like manner.  
 
When Dad’s military service was completed, they accepted a job that took them to Herndon, Virginia and the tape tells of their participation in the “public viewing” for the newly completed Washington D.C. Temple that drew 758,000 people.  Dad and Mom participated in follow up visits to those who had requested more information after touring the temple and they were getting ready to take a turn cleaning the temple in anticipation of the dedication.  My mother’s thoughts flowed into the cassette tape, “I remember it used to bother me very much that in a very common statement, President McKay said, ‘No success can compensate for failure in the home,’ and I thought that’s true, and I know it is but what about the things that sometimes don’t happen…and I remember Elder Ashton giving a talk and he said that failure was when you gave up.” (Ann Summerhays, November 1974). In a simple sentence she bore witness of the continual hope of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
“As we attend the temple, there can come to us a dimension of spirituality and a feeling of peace….We will grasp the true meaning of the words of the Savior when He said: ‘Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you….Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid’… I bear witness that there is nothing more important than honoring the covenants you have made or may make in the temple…I can assure you…’No matter the outcome, all will be well because of temple covenants.'” (President Henry B. Eyring, April 2024)
 
There will be no permanent failure when we bind ourselves to Jesus Christ and never give up. “Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”
 

Given All

On August 26, 1970, my parents and their families stood on the grounds of the Salt Lake Temple taking pictures after my parents were sealed for time and all eternity in the House of the Lord.  Dad had recently returned from a six week summer training camp at Fort Lewis, Washington with the Army Reserve Officer Training Corps and Dad and Mom would spend the first few years of their marriage in the United States Army.

As they stood on the temple grounds, half way around the world Dad’s cousin, Dwight Preston O’Brien, was serving our country in the 196th Light Infantry Brigade in Vietnam.  Operation Elk Canyon had been launched two months earlier in an attempt to clear guerrilla strongholds from the Quảng Tín Province.  On that summer day, Dwight was among the soldiers on a CH-47 cargo helicopter transporting men and ammunition that was hit by enemy fire killing 30 men, including Dwight.  

I never knew Dwight and don’t remember his father well, but I love his mother and his siblings.  

Dwight was the third of Aunt Myrtle and Uncle Mike’s sons to be drafted and to serve during the Vietnam War.  The family was participating in the West Virginia State Fair held just a few minutes from their home when the officer arrived to share the crushing news of Dwight’s death.  They were not ones to speak much of their pain but I often heard Aunt Myrtle share her faith in God and His plan.  The Savior of the world knows us, He knows our suffering.  “Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee.  Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands;” (Isaiah 49:15-16)

We don’t deserve the gift of His life and the freedom and agency His suffering provides us. Yet He gave His life to grant us peace in our turmoil and hope for everything we cannot mend or heal.   Likewise, we gratefully acknowledge that we do not deserve the unprecedented freedom and opportunity that are ours and we reverently honor those who have served, fought, suffered and like Him gave their all for us.

Grow up in the Lord

This month I began serving as an ordinance worker in the Bountiful Utah Temple and am seeing the temple with new perspective.  It reminds me of the first time I went to the temple for my own endowment. I had graduated from college, I was working full time, serving as a young women’s advisor in my ward, and in my free time I indulged in my passion for family history. 
 
As I learned about my ancestors and pieced together their families, I felt their desire to receive the ordinances of the temple.  While I could submit their names and perform proxy baptisms, I had not yet been endowed and could not help them beyond that point.   At the time, it was common to go to the temple when you were going on a mission or getting married.  I was doing neither but as their desire continued to be impressed on my heart, I pondered whether it was time for me to make covenants of my own so I could then reach out and bless them.  I studied Elder Packer’s book, The Holy Temple.  I read the temple preparation manual and tried to understand the covenants I would be making.  Though I knew many of my weaknesses, I felt I was ready to keep covenants.  I talked to my bishop, expressed my desire and he sent my recommendation to the stake president.  
 
As I entered the temple, my focus was so intent on what I would commit to the Lord that I was completely unprepared for what the Lord would promise to me.  I felt awe at the promises I heard and began to glimpse in greater measure the dreams of God for His children.  I felt the prayer that “…in the Lord’s holy house, the Saints would be armed with the power of God, that the name of Jesus Christ would be upon them, that His angels would have charge over them, and that they would grow up in the Lord and ‘receive the fullness of the Holy Ghost.'” (Elder Neil L. Andersen, April 2024)
 
Through the grace and merits of Jesus Christ all that the Father has can be ours as we “grow up in the Lord.” (D&C 109:15)

Rays of Light

As we entered Relief Society, we were handed a yellow ribbon tied to a button and soon discovered that the ribbon represented a “ray of light” from our Heavenly Father.  The Relief Society president invited us to remember and share experiences we have had in receiving “rays of light” from heaven.  Through the lesson and day, my memory ranged from my childhood to recent experiences, some of my most enduring “spiritually defining moments.”
 
As a young mother feeling stretched with a three year old and a one year old, I had the feeling that another child was ready to come.  Like Peter jumping out of the boat, we were soon thrilled to find that I was expecting our third child.  Morning sickness began, tears came easily, the fatigue was overwhelming, and like Peter walking on the water, doubt came and I began to sink.    My prayers intensified but there was no hand to lift me out of the water and day after day, week after week, month after month, I felt like I was treading water with my head barely above the surface.  Just weeks before the birth of our baby, the young women in our ward were performing a musical number in our sacrament meeting.  I listened to their strong voices and recalled the confidence and testimony I had felt as a young woman.  Tears streamed down my face as I wondered what had happened to that young woman who was now just barely hanging on.  I do not know how it happened.  It wasn’t a burst of strength, peace, clarity or understanding, rather it felt like the slow lifting of the fog, day by day, week by week, until I was once again standing in the sun with enlarged capacity,  more confidence, and increased strength.
 
“Rather than sending us a pillar of light, the Lord sends us a ray of light, and then another, and another….Line upon line, precept upon precept, here a ray and there a ray-one small, treasured spiritual moment at a time-there grows up within us a core of light-filled, spiritual experiences…[and] together they can become a light that the darkness of doubt cannot overcome.” (Elder Alexander Dushku, April 2024). We can gather rays that will sustain us, lift us and form a pillar to give us faith and hope in the darkness of our days.

Kindness

On a Southwest flight from Denver to Columbus, Ohio, I found myself seated next to an older gentleman.  As the first flight attendant came down the aisle to collect drink orders, the man took a Starbucks gift card out of his pocket and thanked the attendant for taking care of us.  He handed one to the attendant who brought our snacks and another to the one who collected our garbage.  As his neighbor, I got to witness each face light up with surprise and appreciation.  I commented on the thoughtful gesture and he replied that he had spent his life in the service industry and knew how much it meant to be noticed and appreciated.
 
Earlier in the week, I attended a Sunday School class where a man told a story from his childhood.  Growing up in a large city, he was the child of a single mom who often worked Saturdays and looked for opportunities for her son to stay busy.  He recalled her signing him up for art lessons at a local museum.  Each Saturday morning she would give him the fare to ride to the museum and back, including a small amount to purchase a little treat.  One Saturday, as he picked his treat, he gave into his desire for the large candy bar which was delightful until it was time to go home and he didn’t have enough money for the fare.  He recalled the panic that seized him, the tears that came to his eyes and the well dressed woman who stopped, listened to his story, cried with him and gave him the fare he needed to return home.  He ended by saying that the woman probably doesn’t remember him, but now fifty years later, he still prays for her in gratitude for her kindness.  
 
Kindness changes us.  It brings joy to those who give it,  wonder to those who receive it, and kindness becomes sacred to those who remember it with gratitude.  
 

To Love Another Person

Growing up in a family of golfers, our summers revolved around the local and national junior golf schedules. Our annual family vacation found us heading, along with our cousins, to San Diego, California the second week of July for the Junior World Golf Tournament. There, my siblings and cousins would play at multiple different courses with varying tee times and the logistics of having everyone in the right place at the right time were complicated. I loved the whirl and enjoyed the trips but as a non golfer I never participated in the tournament so my parents tried to find opportunities for me. One year, my dad and I and two siblings left the course and headed to Los Angeles to watch the stage production of Les Miserables. I had read the book, I knew all the music and was particularly impressed as the characters played out the theme echoed in the line, “To love another person is to see the face of God.”

On Thursday night, my twenty five year old son was visiting with my parents when a call came from an elderly neighbor who wasn’t feeling well and wanted a priesthood blessing. Together, my parents and my son went to the apartment of this dear friend. My mom sat near and held her hand as they all listened to her concerns and ailments. They called her family and Dad and my son laid their hands on her head to give her a blessing from her Heavenly Father. In a quiet moment, in a quiet room this woman reached out, my parents and son responded and all felt the love they had for each other and the love of God for all of them.

They learned again the truth, “…to serve in this Church is to stand in the river of God’s love for His children….[it is] a work party of people with picks and shovels trying to help clear the channel for the river of God’s love to reach His children at the end of the row…Help carry His love to His children, and some of it will splash on you.” (Elder Robert M. Daines, October 2021) Sometimes we serve, sometimes we are served, at different times we each play a variety roles in the “river of God’s love”.  Yet in His infinite wisdom, no matter where we stand, in the process we are all cleansed, refreshed and drenched in His love.

Tell Me the Story

Primary children sing, “…Tell me the story that I love to hear.  …Tell me of heaven and why I came here.  Tell how you love me and gently speak and then I’ll go to sleep.”  One of my early memories is sitting on my daddy’s lap in a big overstuffed yellow chair in the front room of our home.  It was bedtime and he was rehearsing the story of the day I was born.  Like the Primary children, it was my favorite story.  He shared how nice I was to come in the afternoon, not the middle of the night.  His mother, on a flight from Salt Lake City to our home in Virginia, landed without knowing she had a new granddaughter.  He and Mom had taken a class so he could be in the delivery room and when I came they counted my fingers and toes and were in awe of the precious gift that had been given to them.  

 
As my father could recall the day I and each of my parents’ children was born, our Heavenly Father remembers the day, the hour, the moment when we left His presence “for the express purpose of providing an opportunity…to have the stretching and refining experience of mortality.” (Elder Patrick Kearon, April 2024) He knows our strengths, He knows our weakness, He knows our past, He knows our future, He cries at our sorrow and rejoices in our every choice to turn towards Him.
 
“Our Father’s beautiful plan…is designed to bring you home, not to keep you out.  No one has built a roadblock and stationed someone there to turn you around and send you away.  In fact, it is the exact opposite.  God is in relentless pursuit of you.  He ‘wants all of His children to choose to return to Him,’ and He employs every possible measure to bring you back.” (Ibid) Turn to Him, know He is there and feel His peace.  He wants gently lead, guide and walk beside us until we are safely home.