“The Hidden Book,” Liahona, Nov. 2001, 42–43
The Hidden Book
In the summer of 1973, I succumbed to an unexplainable urge to go to Europe in search of family history records. That is how my two granddaughters and I ended up copying records inside a large old building in Kappeln, Germany.
I had felt impressed to concentrate my limited time on searching out Grandfather Thomsen’s people. The building we were in housed the civil and religious records of Kappeln back to 1764. We did not speak German, but fortunately the English-speaking curator explained enough terms for us to understand the records.
My granddaughters and I worked as fast as we could to get the information I needed until they left for England in keeping with our plans. I felt I could not leave yet; my urge to research my grandfather’s family line now seemed like true inspiration.
It didn’t take long for the staff at the Kappeln archives to learn how important their records were to me. I was waiting at the door each morning when they opened, and I did not stop for lunch. They responded generously: not only did they allow me to stay when they closed for lunch, but they offered to open their doors an hour earlier each morning. Given my limited time, I was grateful beyond expression.
When I had searched through the births, marriages, and burials back to 1764, I wondered where to go next. I knew the records before 1764 had to be somewhere, but where? At that moment I had the impression, “You haven’t looked.” Somewhat astonished, I went to the building’s vault and muttered, “Where haven’t I looked?”
Some large books on the top shelf caught my eye. I mused to myself, I’ll bet the records are in those big books that no one has looked at for ages. To reach them I had to step on the bottom shelf. As I reached with my right hand to remove one of the large volumes, I placed my left hand in a recessed corner to brace myself and felt something there. After retrieving the massive book from the top shelf, I looked to see what I had felt with my left hand. It turned out to be a much smaller book. Its cover was the same color as the shelves, an unobtrusive tan. I opened it. Old Gothic script spread across the page. What was it?
I flipped to the back where the writing was more modern and found the name of a child born to parents whose records I had already assembled going back as far as I could—to 1765. I was now looking at the record of an older child born to those same parents in 1763.
I was afraid to hope, but as soon as the staff returned from lunch I took the book to the archivist. After some discussion, he told me that the book was, in fact, just what I had thought—a record of christenings in Kappeln going back to the mid-1600s. “This is the Kappeln record, but we have never seen this record here,” he said.
I made arrangements with the staff to have a copy made. The 101 sheets I received produced many names my family and I would later submit for temple work. Paper copies and a film of the book are now available in the Church Family History Library.
I gratefully acknowledge the help the Lord gives those who sincerely seek their ancestors. This experience confirmed to me the wisdom of the scripture: “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths” (Prov. 3:5–6).