In May, I traveled to England to interview, film and photograph for a documentary and articles marking Karl G. Maeser and Brigham Young University’s 150th anniversary celebration. During the trip, our group visited numerous historical sites, including the Beatles statues in Liverpool, Alnwick Castle and iconic London landmarks such as Big Ben and Westminster Abbey.
But the most profound discovery for me wasn’t found in these famous landmarks — it was found in the quiet atmosphere of a chapel connected to my own family’s spiritual beginnings. That experience, and the stories that followed, revealed that exploring family history is more than searching through old records for names. It is sacred, anchoring identity, strengthening faith and bringing healing to the soul.
I felt that healing while standing inside the Gadfield Elm Chapel in Gloucester — the oldest Latter-day Saint chapel in the world still standing and a significant site in the early history of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the British Isles. This chapel represents the beginning of my family’s faith journey.
This sacred moment led to a larger question: How does connecting with our ancestors shape our spiritual identity today? That question prompted me to explore the stories of others and research the power of family history.
My third-great-grandparents, Robert Harris Jr. and Hannah Maria Eagles, lived in Gloucester and attended the Gadfield Elm Chapel in the early 1840s. Robert, born in England in 1807, was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in June 1840, shortly after meeting Apostle Wilford Woodruff. The family emigrated to the United States in 1841, overcoming challenges as they crossed the Atlantic Ocean, traveled through Nauvoo and eventually settled in Kaysville, Utah.
Robert contributed significant time to the construction of the Salt Lake Temple and served in the Mormon Battalion and the Utah Militia. He died in 1876, and his funeral sermon was delivered by Wilford Woodruff, underscoring his respected place in early Latter-day Saint history.
Standing in the chapel where my ancestors worshipped soon after being baptized into the Church, I felt overwhelmed by the Spirit of the Lord. Tears fell down my face as I imagined Robert and Hannah meeting with other new Saints in that very room. I had been struggling for some time with mental health challenges that made it difficult to keep up with my responsibilities. At a difficult point in my life, reflecting on their sacrifices and the gospel’s influence on my family brought me peace. I felt God’s love and reassurance that He is mindful of me.
Like me, others have found spiritual insight and healing through family history. One such person is Teri Denos, a longtime genealogist whose story reflects the depth of this sacred work. Teri, originally from England, is devoted to learning about her own family’s past and serves as the temple and family history consultant in her home stake.
For Teri, family history has been a lifelong passion. It began when she was 13 and started asking her grandparents about their lives. That early curiosity now drives her to attend the temple often and dive deeply into genealogical research. As she has done so, she has experienced deep spiritual conversion and personal impressions that have helped her understand where she comes from.
To her, family stories and temple ordinances create lasting bonds, as “even the names spoken for the first time in over a hundred years can be a source of joy for our ancestors.”
Though she was born and raised in England, Teri now lives in Spanish Fork, Utah, and loves returning home to visit. Her great-grandfather Alfred William Hill, was born and raised in York, England. Although documented history about her family is limited, she learned that Alfred sang in the York Minster and was an organ builder, likely at the Minster itself.
Teri noted her birth name was Hill and believes she shares some of Alfred’s physical features, including the shape of his forehead. In recent years, during her efforts to learn more about her roots, she visited York Minster. The cathedral is stunning, with spires reaching toward the heavens and stained-glass windows depicting stories from the Bible.
“To think that I was walking where he walked, seeing in part what he had seen,” Teri said. After all, the York Minster hasn’t changed much since Alfred's time there.
“I was even hearing some of what he had heard as that beautiful organ bellowed out her ancient melodies that lifted our thoughts and eyes heavenward,” she said. During Evensong, she sat close to the choir stalls, picturing him as a boy singing in that very place. And on top of the cathedral, she wondered whether he had once looked out over the city from the same view.
“I believe my great-grandfather exists as a spirit being … I find it realistic to believe that knowing of my visit to York, knowing of my awareness of him, that it is quite possible he joined me in spirit there that day,” Teri said. “Real or imagined, I was there, and it impacted me.”
Alfred died in a tragic accident at 35. Teri continues to find herself inspired that, in such a short life, he lived with passion and conviction.
As we spoke, Teri also recounted one of the most remarkable stories in her personal history. After years as a single mother, she prayed for guidance about whether she should seek companionship again. Less than a week later, a missionary who had baptized her decades earlier, and whom she had not seen in more than 10 years, appeared at her door. When she realized who he was, she was stunned. A few days earlier, when she had prayed for direction, the answer she received was his name.
He had been inspired to search for her through a real estate listing, remembering her maiden name and the town where she had lived. Within a few months, they were engaged and later married. Teri believes the timing was no coincidence, a fulfillment of her prayer and a testament that God is deeply aware of our personal journeys.
Teri also finds peace doing temple work. She has felt inspired by the Spirit throughout her family history efforts, including through dreams and impressions from departed loved ones offering encouragement. One dream in particular featured her grandfather telling her, “I’ve been waiting so long.” The urgency in that simple phrase gave Teri a renewed sense of dedication. She described these moments as strong connections with those who came before her, underscoring the eternal nature of family relationships.
In today's world, there is an intense hunger for identity and belonging. My story and Teri’s experiences reflect a larger pattern documented by researchers worldwide: knowledge of family history has measurable, positive effects on individuals’ well-being and sense of identity.
A 2023 BYU study found that studying family history can help older adolescents balance commitment to their family’s values with their own exploration of important issues. The survey of 239 students ages 18 to 20 at seven U.S. universities showed that those with the healthiest identity development — individuals who held to their own beliefs while still feeling connected to their families — also knew about their family history.
A 2005 study led by Emory University psychologists Robyn Fivush and Marshall Duke reached similar conclusions. “There seems to be something that’s particularly important about children knowing where they came from in a larger sense and having a sense of family history and a family place,” Fivush said.
In 2010, the same group of Emory researchers found that young people who knew more stories about their extended families had healthier identity development.
According to Church News, “a total of 207 million visited FamilySearch.org in 2020, a 17.8% increase from 2019.” That same year, FamilySearch reached 8.3 billion total names in historical records on its site.
In a religious context — particularly within The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints — family history is not just a hobby but a deeply spiritual practice tied to faith and eternal identity.
The Church teaches that through proxy ordinances performed in the temple, individuals on both sides of the veil can receive the blessings of exaltation. This work strengthens faith and reinforces a sense of eternal identity.
Family history offers a sense of placement — an understanding that we are part of something larger than ourselves. We live in a time when many people feel lost, depressed and disconnected. This knowledge roots us in something enduring and divine. Teri explained it this way: “When you take that name [to the temple], it might be the first time in a hundred years that name has been said aloud. Imagine how much that must mean to them.”
Our ancestors’ stories offer lessons that shape our decisions today. One of my favorite family stories is about my great-grandfather, Robert Morris. After being medically discharged from the Army, he was walking around town in Idaho when he saw a maroon Ford coupe in a showroom window. In his autobiography, he wrote, “I thought it was about the most beautiful car I had ever seen.” Using money he had saved during his service, he made a down payment.
He waited and waited, but the car never came. During that time, he received his mission call. He recovered the money he had paid on the car and placed it in his mission account instead. “Now whenever I see a dilapidated '46 Ford coupe with faded paint and sometimes in a wrecking yard,” he wrote, “I say to myself how foolish I almost was to have traded my mission experience for the car.”
The car is long gone, but the seeds of faith planted during his mission grew stronger throughout his life — and, I believe, continue to grow on the other side. That story has stayed with me and guides me whenever I face a choice between temporary gratification and things of eternal significance.
Family history doesn’t just uncover names — it brings us into the lives of those who came before us. These stories are our spiritual inheritances. For me, they have become part of my identity.
Teri often encourages people in her stake to begin their family history journey by talking with the oldest living relative they have. “Get a camera and just start recording,” she said. “Even if it’s just opening an old photo album and asking, ‘Who is this?’ That’s where it starts.” She believes everyone has stories worth telling and that future generations will benefit from even the simplest memories and testimonies passed down.
Her love of family history has also shaped her writing. As a writer, Teri finds family stories endlessly rich and meaningful. Recording these stories helps preserve not only the facts but the spirit of the experiences. It connects generations.
In reflecting on our experiences, both Teri and I have found that visiting physical places tied to our family history can offer profound insight. Standing where our ancestors stood helps bridge the gap of time. Teri described walking through York Minster as “electric,” feeling Alfred William Hill’s presence as if he were walking beside her. I felt the same at Gadfield Elm Chapel — my feet on the same paths and floors my ancestors once walked as they continued their faith journeys. It reminded me of the impact one person's faith can have on generations to come. Knowing where my ancestors worshiped and where their sacrifices and devotion began strengthens my own faith and gives meaning to the challenges I face. It reassures me that I am part of a larger story — that God has a plan for me, and He loves me.
I hope to continue visiting these sacred spaces. Other third-great-grandparents of mine once lived in Wales, near the town of Fishguard. Though I wasn’t able to visit during my trip to England, I hope one day to walk the same hills and paths they did. These goals are more than a vacation – they are part of my personal journey of spiritual alignment and connection to those who came before me.
Family history work is holy work. For Latter-day Saints, it is intertwined with temple worship and sacred ordinances. But even outside a religious perspective, the process of discovering our roots helps us understand who we are. It cultivates empathy, gratitude, resilience and purpose. The stories we uncover give us courage, offer perspective in times of trial and help us realize we are not alone — others have walked difficult paths before us and emerged with stronger faith.
For me, stories of my ancestors leaving their homelands after being disowned by their families for joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or even something as simple as being known for whistling hymns while working in their fields, are inspiring and empowering. These stories provide perspective and guidance across generations, and remind me that even small choices in our lives can resonate far beyond the moment of decision. Knowing our roots profoundly shapes our present and future.
As I pursue future family goals and career paths, I carry these stories with me. They shape the way I see the world and the legacy I hope to leave. They are part of who I am. As I seek to uplift others through my storytelling, I am guided by the belief that each life is connected, each voice matters and each story is sacred.
Family history is not a passive endeavor — it is a call to action. It invites us to become more, to become better, by remembering who and where we come from. Whether through indexing names, writing stories, participating in temple work or simply sharing memories around the kitchen table, we are engaging in divine work.
By exploring and embracing our family history, we not only honor those who came before us but also find strength and inspiration to face life’s challenges with faith and hope. As we look backward, we find the courage to move forward. And in honoring those who came before, we better understand the people we are becoming.
In a world that often defines worth by achievements or appearances, family history reminds us that we are shaped by something more enduring and eternal — our faith, our ancestors and the stories we choose to carry forward. In remembering, we are transformed.