In August of 1993, early on a Sunday morning, I sat quietly with my parents in our living room after returning from an out-of-town trip. We had just grabbed the mail and I had in my hands a letter which contained my call and assignment to serve a two-year mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The anticipation of where I would go could be felt in the air. When I read “the Italy Milan” mission, it was somewhere I had never even considered, but it immediately felt right to me.

Few things have impacted me as significantly as those two years I spent as a missionary in Italy. It has influenced everything from what is in my pantry and refrigerator to my holiday traditions to what I say when it’s time to go and when I’m frustrated. It has blessed me with many amazing friends, experiences, memories, and a personal conviction of the gospel, all of which continue to bless me so many years later. While the intent was for me to serve the people of Italy, I have received in return more than I deserve. I am grateful for, and will always cherish, that special time.

And now, a little less than 30 years later God has given me yet another tender mercy and even greater understanding into that call…

A month ago, I was traveling back from my grandfather’s funeral and wanted to look back on my ancestry. I went down the ‘rabbit hole’ and ended up tracing the line of my maternal grandmother’s paternal grandmother which I had never looked at before. What I found was a surprise to me.

The first Italian immigrant to New York, Pietro Cesare Alberti, is my 10th great-grandfather (see more about Pietro here). I was shocked to learn I have Italian ancestry! I kept tracing the line back and it is unclear the exact lineage, but evidence points to roots in Florence during the time of the Medici, if not directly descending from the same. Some of these individuals come from Milan, which is where I spent much of my time when I lived in Italy. Concurrently, I found hundreds and hundreds of ordinances that can be completed for my Italian ancestors in the temple.

So, while I was unaware of this personally rich history in my ancestry, God knew it when He inspired a prophet to call me there. And decades later, he gave me a tender mercy by helping me realize this.

^{Lead photo by Merle Taylor}