Dusting Brings Divine Intervention
I never cared for household dusting. But one day, this simple act was the reason I was able to take my family to the temple.
I joined the Church in 1970. My family was involved in Primary, Relief Society, and youth programmes. I noticed that our branch president kept mentioning the word ‘genealogy’ every Sunday. I kept turning a blind eye; I was too busy; I would do it later.
One Sunday, we had a visiting speaker who challenged us to think about where we could begin finding information about our ancestors. I then remembered seeing my name and birth date in my great-aunt Lizzie’s birthday book when I was a child. I wondered where the book might now be, as she had died many years ago. Jessie (my mother’s cousin) might know because she knew Lizzie. But what was her address? I’d had no contact with her since I was a child.
The next morning, I was dusting. I can’t imagine why, as dusting was hardly a favourite pastime of mine. I picked up a beautiful wooden bowl that my husband had made for me before we married. Underneath, there was a piece of paper with Jessie’s address on it. I was stunned. Where did it come from? I didn’t question it; I sat down and wrote to Jessie there and then. Jessie wrote back that “no one else has asked for it, Edith, so it’s yours.” Within the week I had that book in my hands. It is now my treasured possession. It gave me a flying start to my research into my mother’s side of the family!
I’m still not much of a duster, but I’m ever so grateful for that prompting so long ago.