Biltmore House

George Vanderbilt inherited only a portion of his grandfather Cornelius' massive shipping and railroad fortune, but it was more than enough to build the Biltmore estate, a 250-room mansion, the largest privately owned home in the United States.

The house is a wonder of architecture and artistry, a marvel of elegance and charm, and a testament to the Vanderbilt hospitality. Our tour guides gave us a close and personal look at magnificent, 16th century tapestries, a banquet hall with a 70-foot ceiling, 65 fireplaces, an indoor pool, a bowling alley, and a collection of priceless art works demonstrating a cultivated taste for human achievement.

The estate's legacy extends well beyond luxury. George Vanderbilt seems to have had two goals for the estate: to conserve and promote the finest works of art and literature, and to run Biltmore as a self-sustaining estate. He took a great interest in horticulture and agriscience and oversaw experiments in scientific farming, animal breeding, and forestry. He hired Frederick Olmsted to design the grounds, and Olmsted would go on to become the father of landscape architecture. Olmsted recommended Gifford Pinchot to manage the forests on the estate, and Pinchot would go on to become the first chief of the United States Forest Service.

After his death, George's widow sold approximately 86,000 acres of the Biltmore property to the United States Forest Service, fulfilling her husband's wishes to create the core of Pisgah National Forest.

During World War II, the Vanderbilt heirs aided the war effort by allowing priceless treasures from the National Gallery of Art to be hidden at the estate and protected against possible attacks.

As a 21st century mom who cleans bathrooms and vacuums carpets, I approached the house questioning the need for so much scale in a single-family dwelling.

My heart began to soften the moment I walked through the front door and felt myself ministered to by the greenery of an indoor atrium. When I saw the 23,000 volumes in the library and heard the E.M. Skinner pipe organ playing in the banquet hall, I decided I should give wealth a try. After all, there were 80 servants quartered in the basement and on the fourth floor. They could handle the housework.

Southern Virginia University

Traveling through Virginia's Blue Ridge Mountains, we stopped in the picturesque hilltop village of Buena Vista (population 6650) for a campus visit at Southern Virginia University.

This remote outpost of Mormonism, located in the heart of the Bible Belt, is a fully accredited liberal arts college sponsored not by the Church, but by members of the Church. Its mission is to provide "the finest undergraduate education available in letters, arts, and sciences within a wholesome Latter-day Saint environment."

We were given a warm welcome and personal attention. Interested juniors and seniors were invited to audition for music scholarships, and did so, right on the spot.

As we soaked in the spirit of this intimate campus, we couldn't help but notice a positive comparison to American Heritage School. The emphasis is on preparing students to become "servant-leaders" through study in any of 16 majors and 3 minors. With a faculty of 88 and a student body of 804, students can enjoy personal mentoring, sometimes in classes with a student-teacher ratio of 1:1.

But the most unique aspect, as reported in the Salt Lake Tribune, is the personal bond forged between students and teachers:

Jana Chapman, a graduating senior who transferred from BYU, wanted to have the choice to study different musical instruments as well as computer science. At SVU, she was the sole student in a computer science class, and frequently saw faculty at church. She recalled once hearing professors praying for her and other students.

"That's really neat," she said, "that I can be in school where my professors are asking God to help me to do well on my exams." ["A bastion of Mormonism in Virginia's Blue Mountains," Adele M. Banks, May 24, 2008.]

It was a wonderful campus visit, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if your students came home requesting another.

Thomas Jefferson's Monticello

Thomas Jefferson was America's Leonardo da Vinci. He was a horticulturist, naturalist, inventor, and educator; an inveterate tinkerer, a painstaking diarist and record keeper, and an archaeologist with a lust for exploration. He had a gift for the pen and a love of books, and he was a linguist able to read and write in seven languages. He was the epicure who brought ice cream to America and the farmer who determined that the tomato was an edible fruit. He was a philosopher, educator, and institution builder, the president of the American Philosophical Society, the founder of the University of Virginia, and the creator of the Library of Congress.

He was the man who confronted James Madison over the Bill of Rights, insisting that it be added to the Constitution, and the man who coined the phrase, "wall of separation," between church and state.

He was also a man of puzzling contradictions. He was a gourmet, yet we have him to thank for macaroni and cheese. He was adamantly opposed to a national debt, but his own personal finances were a disaster. He was a strict constitutionalist, yet he violated the Constitution to make the Louisiana Purchase. He held the highest offices in our system (Ambassador, Governor, Vice President, and President), but he was a reluctant politician. His two inaugural addresses rank among the greatest, but he was such a miserable public speaker that he sent the State of the Union to Congress in writing. He had a thin skin; he wasn't cut out for politics; and yet his face is on Mount Rushmore.

He wrote the most soaring words in language about rights, liberty, and equality, but he held slaves. We pondered this contradiction in morning devotional on the bus, and couldn't decide what to make of it. On the one hand, Thomas Jefferson was a product of his time, and it would seem just as unfair to judge him as it would be to judge Martin Luther for not having the Book of Mormon. On the other hand, he seriously considered releasing his slaves, and must have had the ability to do so, but didn't.

In the end, we decided not to judge the man, but to learn from him instead, taking our cue from the words of Elder Jeffrey R. Holland:

Be kind regarding human frailty. Except in the case of His only perfect Begotten Son, imperfect people are all God has ever had to work with. As one gifted writer has suggested, when the infinite fulness is poured forth, it is not the oil's fault if there is some loose because finite vessels can't quite contain it all. Those finite vessels include you and me, so be kind and patient and forgiving. [Excerpted from "Lord, I Believe," April 2013 General Conference.]

All of Jefferson's passions are on display in Monticello, the home he designed and built to serve as his autobiographical statement. Because of his meticulous record-keeping, Monticello is one of the best-documented, best-preserved, and best-studied plantations in North America. Collections, artifacts, portraits, specimens, and inventions are on display throughout the home, just as he left them. In his day, Jefferson used these to engage high-ranking visitors in dialogue on education, liberty, and self-government. Two hundred years later, we are keeping this dialogue alive, and Monticello now stands as a monument to the American genius who enshrined our rights to "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."

Colonial Williamsburg

In May of 1775, standing here in the Williamsburg capitol building, Patrick Henry famously denounced the Stamp Act, likening King George to the tyrant Julius Caesar, hurling defiance at the English Parliament, and rebuffing the conservative opposition by saying, "If this be treason, make the most of it." It was the impulse that set the ball of the American Revolution in motion.

One year later, in May of 1776, the Virginia Convention met in this same building and unanimously proposed that the Continental Congress "declare the United Colonies free and independent states." The next month, the Virginia Convention approved George Mason's Declaration of Rights and adopted the first constitution for the new Commonwealth of Virginia.

For 75 years, Williamsburg made history as the seat of Virginia colonial government. Today, Colonial Williamsburg stands as a living history museum described by different members of the choir as "Disneyland for historians" and "Nauvoo on steroids."

The historic district interprets a colonial American city with dozens of restored or re-created buildings peopled by period-costumed artisans and craftsmen who demonstrate their art and artifacts. History comes to life in Colonial Williamsburg, and our visit has given us a deeper appreciation for the diversity, aspirations, and struggles that shaped America.