Remember that one time Matt and I went to Europe? It was incredible, and I posted about it here, here, here and here. And remember all those times I promised I would finish blogging about it? A certain sister of mine won't let me forget about those, so here's the plan: I'll blog about our European honeymoon at least once a week--Tuesdays and/or Thursdays. Matt and I kept a travel journal so I'll refer to that as I go along. K deal?
I left off in Zurich, where we spent the night before heading to our main Switzerland stop--a quaint little village called Rebstein. It is where generations of my Graf ancestors are from and it was such a neat experience to be there and feel a special connection to them. Rebstein is in an absolutely breathtaking area of the alps, with unbelievable views from every angle. Maybe that's where my dad's obsession with pretty mountain views came from? I know for sure that Rebstein is where the Graf addiction to hiking comes from. I could've spent days and days just roaming the mountains above Rebstein and been perfectly content. It was fun driving through thinking of my ancestors doing exactly that.
The place I wanted to visit most in Rebstein was the little white church with the red steeple and the green clock. It's where my great-great-great-grandparents and their parents were married, and luckily, it was the first thing we spotted when we reached the village. The church is one of the sweetest little things I've ever seen, and even sweeter was the opportunity I had upon returning home to do some temple work for the family that began here hundreds of years ago.
The place I wanted to visit most in Rebstein was the little white church with the red steeple and the green clock. It's where my great-great-great-grandparents and their parents were married, and luckily, it was the first thing we spotted when we reached the village. The church is one of the sweetest little things I've ever seen, and even sweeter was the opportunity I had upon returning home to do some temple work for the family that began here hundreds of years ago.
After wandering around the churchyard for some time (and noticing that nearly half of the headstones said "Graf" on them... just like everything else in town), we found this map of the village and began exploring.
(Rebstein is also where our obsession with all European pastries began.)
It was amazing to see all the little connections we Grafs still have with our Rebstein ancestors, and such a neat experience to understand better who they were and where they came from. I'm lucky to have binders upon binders full of their stories and my family history, but nothing makes it come alive quite like walking where they did so long ago. I can't even imagine leaving such a majestic place with so much of my heritage to travel to America--and the then-barrenness of Utah, no less--knowing that I'd never return. I'm so grateful for the faith they had to do so.
