Family History, am I doing it?

I remember when the Church began to put a lot of emphasis on Family History and the youth. To me, it started with Elder Bednar. He gave a talk one General Conference about the youth doing Family History, and made a promise that if we would, the Gates of Hell would have no powers against us. That promise has stuck with me for a long time.

Recently, I had the opportunity to attend a charity event. The seating was assigned, so when I arrived I gave my last name to the girl at the desk, and she promptly told me to sit at table 16.
There were a few other people sitting at our table, so my date and I started making conversation with them.
I chatted with the older couple directly next to me, and found out that the husband was from California.
"Where in California?" I asked---I know the state pretty well, having spent most of my childhood summers hiking through the mountains.
"Oh it's a little town in Fresno, I doubt you've ever heard of it." He responded.
"Well, my Dad is from Fresno, so maybe I have. Where are you from?" I replied.
"It's called Clovis."

My eyes widened.

"My Dad grew up in Clovis, if you know the Houghton's...."
At which point, his eyes widened.
"Houghton? As in, Matt Houghton?"
"That's my Grandpa!"
"And their two sons... Tim and---"
"That's my Dad!"

I took a picture with him, and sent it to my Dad, who was shocked that I had run into his childhood friend at a dinner charity event.
In the midst of all of that, my date turned to me and said, "Madison! They're Houghton's too!", and pointed to the small family across the table from us.
This evening was turning wild.

Before I could talk to my supposed family, a girl came over and said we had been seated at the wrong table.
I understood immediately what the mix-up had been. I had given my last name as Houghton, and the woman at the front table had assumed I had been one of the other Houghton's sitting here. We quickly moved to our actual table, but I returned to table 16 to talk to my potential family.

As we sat talking, we tried to find an ancestor that we had in common. The father of the group seemed to know a lot about his family history, and I was poorly prepared for that conversation. The only thing I knew about our family was that our first ancestor to travel to America came from a small family of landed gentry in Lancashire, England.
We exchanged numbers and promised to try and find our common relative.

This was probably the spark for me, the spark that lit the flame of Family History.
Up until this point I had never had a real interest in it. I knew it was important, and I knew I needed to be more involved, but it always seemed a daunting task. So, I ignored it.
However, the day after this "chance" encounter (although I cannot in good conscience mark it up as chance when it was more like divine intervention) I began my research.

Within an hour of working, I had found several names, books, and records that recorded the involvement of my ancestral family to the founding of the colonies, and the American Revolution. I eagerly shared my findings with my Grandma, who had never even heard of the people I had found (which is saying something, she's a real family history buff for our family).
I was amazed at how much I enjoyed sorting through papers and reading long sections of books, to simply try and find these names. It was like a treasure hunt, and each little detail or story added to the picture of my history.
I realized I have come from a long line of Houghton's who fought for their country, who loved America, and who contributed to the building up of this nation. This has given me comfort, to know that those who came before me did great and wonderful things, and their names are remembered.

The spirit of Elijah has taken hold of my heart, and I intend to let it grow.