http://www.townhall.com/Columnists/JerryBowyer/2007/08/02/harry_potter_and_the_fire_breathing_fundamentalists?page=full&comments=true#4ae9f2aa-e131-467c-8bb5-3bd8c2b0fc49

I quote from the article:

"Seven years ago, Joanne Rowling was asked whether she is a Christian. Her answer:"

"'YES I AM. WHICH SEEMS TO OFFEND THE RELIGIOUS RIGHT FAR WORSE THAN IF I SAID I THOUGHT THERE WAS NO GOD. Every time I’ve been asked if I believe in God, I’ve said yes, because I do, but no one ever really has gone any more deeply into it than that, and I have to say that does suit me, because if I talk too freely about that I think the intelligent reader, whether 10 or 60, will be able to guess what’s coming in the books.'"

We Mormons know exactly what JK Rowlings is talking about.   Sometimes we feel as if the term "Christian" has been hijacked by one minority group  (fundmentalists)  who espouse a particular brand of Western European creedal orthodox religion which they jealously regard as Christian.  They seem to not want to let anyone else into the "Club".

I have always loved history. My Mom and Dad fed this love by buying me many good books and I still remember the thrill of opening a book on the Civil War and being transported to another place and time. I dreamed of visiting the places I read about. I knew so much about Gettysburg and other battlefields that I could be a guide.

For years I made various plans that never seemed to come to fruition to visit these places. Finally, several years ago. Luisa and I were able to make this trip of a lifetime. We flew to Philadelphia and visited Independence Hall and saw the Liberty Bell. We saw where Washington crossed the Delaware River and won the Battle of Trenton on Christmas day of 1776. We headed south and saw the "Star Spangled Banner" waving proudly in the breeze over Fort McHenry, in Baltimore. We toured Washington D.C.; the Capitol, the Snithsonian and Mount Vernon.

We headed south into Virginia. We saw the stone wall at Fredricksburg and Stonewall

Jackson’s death site. We saw the House at Appomattox Courthouse where Lee surrendered to Grant to end the Civil War.

A rainy Sunday Morning found us in Harrisonburg Virginia, in the middle of the Shenandoah Valley. We attended church in the morning and were going to stay in Charlottesville that evening. We had the afternoon to explore.

I had learned from Mom and from Loralee about our West Virginia relatives. I knew that Mary Flinn was born in Pendleton County, West Virginia. I had studied and learned that there was a Bland Hills Road somewhere in Pendleton County. I knew that Mary’s mother, Mahala Raines, was born in Bland Hills. So I had planned to drive over the mountain from the Shenandoah Valley to Pendleton County to look around a bit.

It was still raining heavily as we headed west over the Blue Ridge Mountains. The trees were beautiful, green and dense. The only respite from woodland was an occasional farm clearing. The rolling hills were suitably mysterious peeking in and out of the clouds. We felt as if we were entering another time. The rain slowed and then stopped. Sunshine warmed the fields and meadows and woodlands of Pendleton County. We arrived in Riverton, West Virginia and slowly drove through the small town. I realized that everything was closed because it was Sunday. I thought it was going to be difficult to find anyone who could point me in the right direction. We passed a funeral home. There was a man and a woman sitting on the porch of the funeral home drinking lemonade. I had driven two or three blocks before the Spirit said, "If you wanted to know where the cemeteries in Pendleton County were located who might you ask?"

I turned the car around and returned to talk to the funeral director who was very kind and directed me towards the North Fork Valley. He said, "There are literally hundreds of family Cemeteries in Pendleton County, but there is a more recent Cemetery on the North Fork that has some of the names you mentioned."

Back in the car we drove north over the next range of hills. As we reached the summit a beautiful valley lay beneath our gaze. We stopped, supposing that there were probably not may other such vistas unblocked by trees, and took some pictures. Several hundred yards down the hill a road sign pointed us to "Bland Hills Road". We turned right down a narrow 1 ½ lane road that steeply curved downward around hairpin turns. As we passed farmhouses we looked for names on mailboxes that were Flinn, Bland or Raines with no results. There was one small family cemetery with a stone marking where Arley Bland, who died in World War I, was buried.

At the bottom of the hill there was a memorial to a long forgotten battle of the Civil War where two local men died. One of those men was Eli Parry Bland. We felt like we were getting warm.

A right turn and four or five miles brought us to the North Fork Cemetery. There were Flinn’s, Bland’s and Raine’s buried here but all had died after 1960. Dark Clouds floated above us and thunder rumbled across the valley.

We were about to turn back, but a saw a sign advertising Seneca Caverns, five miles north. I thought perhaps they would be open on a Sunday and I might be able to borrow or buy a phone book from them to locate family names. I supposed the Lord might overlook my Sabbath indiscretion if I were doing family history research. We came to Seneca Caverns which was, indeed open. I went to the Gift shop and inquired about a phone book. The clerk said, "You would have to check with our manager, Steve." I asked her to call him and said I was searching for family who had lived in the valley in the 17 and 1800's, I said the names I was looking for were Flinn, Bland and Raines. The clerk looked amused, "Then you will definitely want to talk to Steve. His Mama was a Bland and his Daddy was a Raines. Steve Raines was happy and excited to talk to me. He introduced me to two of my cousins who were waitressing at the restaurant. "Who you really need to talk to is Guy Bland. Jes go back the way ya come. Jes the other side of the road from Bland Hills Road is Guy Bland Road cuz Guy lives on it. Pass the old trailer house, ain’t no one lives theah,. and the old Bland Cemetery, drop down intuh the holler. Guy lives by the red and white pick-up."

We followed Steve’s directions and came to Guy Bland’s house. It looked like it could have belonged to Jed Clampett. Guy was pleased to see us. He was in his 80's. He said, "Who ya really need ta see is Ruby Swadley. She knows all ‘bout the family. I’ll give her a ring fer ya." He picked up the phone, dialed, waited and then said, "Hey, Ruby, they’s some nice folks from Utah ‘ud like to talk to ya ‘bout the family. Kin I send ‘em over? Great, they’ll be right along." As we left Guy told us, "Y’all come back now."

Ruby Swadley lived in the second house on the right down Bland Hills Road. We had passed it an hour or so before. Ruby Swadley, born Bland is Loralee’s 3^rd Cousin. She was living in a house build by her Great Grandfather Enoch Bland, Son of Thomas Bland, Loralee and my common 4^th Great Grandfather. We had a wonderful talk. She knew about the church and worked with some LDS people on family history. She said this land was the original Bland Homestead. And that Thomas and Rachel Shoulders were buried just up the hill. She said that the overlook we stopped at and took a picture from overlooked the Germany Valley which was also called the "Old Flinn Place". The rock formation just above the overlook was called "Old Tom" because it looked like Thomas Bland reclining in profile. She said that it was probably too cloudy to see, but later, as we left and stopped at the overlook, the sun was out and we got a 2 good photo of "Old Tom".

I parked the car and walked up the hill through the tall wet grass and weeds. The sun came out and the vegetation glowed in the haze. I was wet up to my thighs and later I wondered if there were snakes or chiggers, but I was floating in a happy cloud. I was walking on land that my 4^th Great Grandfather had owned. He had walked here and chopped wood here and had children here. He lived and died here. I looked down on the graves of he and Rachel.

When I returned home, I began to search the internet. (   www.familysearch.org  is a great place to start..)  Based on the information I had received. Now I know that we are related to probably 80% of Pendleton County. It has become a home place. We have found well over a thousand of our West Virginia Relatives.

                                                                               ANGEL'S LANDING



And it came to pass that while my father tarried in the wilderness he spake unto us, saying: Behold, I have dreamed a dream; or, in other words, I have seen a vision.   1st Nephi 8:2  The Book of Mormon
And it came to pass after I had prayed unto the Lord I beheld a large and spacious field.

And it came to pass after I, Nephi, having heard all the words of my father, concerning the things which he saw in a vision, and also the things which he spake by the power of the Holy Ghost, which power he received by faith on the Son of God—and the Son of God was the Messiah who should come—I, Nephi, was desirous also that I might see, and hear, and know of these things, by the power of the Holy Ghost, which is the gift of God unto all those who diligently seek him, as well in times of old as in the time that he should manifest himself unto the children of men.                                       1st Nephi 10:17

For it came to pass after I had desired to know the things that my father had seen, and believing that the Lord was able to make them known unto me, as I sat pondering in mine heart I was caught away in the Spirit of the Lord, yea, into an exceedingly high mountain, which I never had before seen, and upon which I never had before set my foot.

My Aunt Rainie had come to visit. She brought her geneology with her. I remember the smell of old paper. I had seen four generation charts before. Quite a few members of our church seemed to have at least a partially filled four generation chart, showing at least some of their great great grandparents. But Rainie had an extended generation chart with her. It was not just the standard legal pad size piece of paper, rather it folded out like a roadmap into eight or ten generations.

I was intrigued. When I was younger our family lived in a rented house on Beck Avenue in Cody, Wyoming. The owners had left a trunk of books in the basement. The books had that same smell of old paper. It is an intoxicating scent. It speaks of ages long past, of the clash of battles so far away that they only whisper and sigh. Frederick the Great was in the books and Napoleon and others and though the words were bigger than I could easily read, the engraved pictures kept me occupied for hours. I daydreamed of long ago strife and glory.

Now some of the Germanic sounding names as I had seen in the History Books were on Rainie’s genealogical road map. I wondered about the people behind the names. Who were they? What did they do for work or for fun? Did they have to go to war? How did their children come to be in the western United States, as my ancestors?

I decided to start copying down the names. But there were at least a couple hundred names and I ran out of time. Rainie left and took the chart with her. I had been bitten by the bug.

I wanted to have all the names Rainie had. I wanted to know who they all were. I wanted to see the sights they had seen and do the things they did.    I knew that I belonged to these people and I really wanted to know more about them.

Rainie had also brought a four generation chart, but it was not like the others I had seen.

Instead of names in the blank spots there were photos of my family members. Their eyes gazed out at me from another time. Did they still exist? Did they know about me? Did they care?

If I tried to honor them would they honor me?

A few years later, I took a class in geneology at BYU.   One of the assignments was to go to the library and research  one of our ancestors on the census records.    I chose my Mother's grandfather,  Anthony Meredith Sharp.  The family legend was that He and his brother, Jeff, had come west to Montana looking for their Father, Abraham who went west and said he would send for the family.  He never returned and they never heard from him again.

I got help from a reference librarian who situated me at a microfilm reader, and set me up with a roll of microfilm from the Kentucky 1850 Census, for Russellville, Kentucky.  I began to turn the crank on the reader and the blurred negative images began to glide past my gaze.  They were in a difficult scrawled hand and were at first hard to make out, but after a few minutes I began to get the drift and was able to read most of the  entries.  Over an hour passed.  No sign of Anthony.  I began to get a bit droopy and unmotivated.  The movement of the film had an almost hypnotic effect.  

Suddenly I was shocked awake from the stupor.  The family name Sharp was before my eyes.  The head of houshold was a woman of 63, named Elizabeth,  there were two ten year old boys, Anthony and Jefferson.
It is hard to describe the feeling of meeting a great grandparent.  I was surprised to realize that my eyes were stinging.  I surrepticiously  wiped at them, embarrassed by the sudden emotion.

Now Grandpa Anthony and I are old acquaintences.  I have taken his line back many generations.  One of his Grandfathers is Charlemagne.  My addiction to Family History has only grown since then.  I don't know everything about my ancestors, but I know they still exist.  You don't feel ove from something that no longer exists.

Welcome to my Blog!

I am Mike Bennion.  I have been commenting on Blogs for some time as Daddy O, and writing some guest articles on www.truthrestored.townhall.com.

I have a number of core beliefs that will color everything that I post.  these follow:
There is a God.
He is aware of us and loves us.
We are his children.
He has a plan to let us be as hapy as we allow ourselves to be.

 The Family is central to God's plan for us.

 God rules in the temporal affairs of Men.

 History is directed by God according to his foreknowledge.

 This does not abridge our agency.

 The Constitution of the United States is inspired by God.

 The United States of America, (and any other nation) will prosper as long as they obey the God of the land, who is Jesus Christ.