As Lambs to His Fold, Page 21

CHAPTER TWENTY

  Come, Come, Ye Saints....

  As I became aware of the outside world again, I learned that little Emily and Clare were still alive, but not improving.

  A few days after my recovery, we all received an invitation from Grandma and Grandpa to come to dinner. Our grandparents were always generous and hospitable; but to invite all of us to dinner at once, when it wasn’t even a holiday or a birthday, and when we were all feeling so low, was surprising.

  When our mothers had asked if they might bring something for the meal, Grandma had said firmly, but with a smile, “Thank you, no. Papa and I will do it all.”

  There were fourteen of us, including Great-Aunt Salina May Roundtree Gillis.

  The dining room table was set beautifully with candles, and Grandma’s best cutwork linen cloth, and the good crystal and silver, and the Spode plates that usually sat in the bow-front china cabinet. In the middle of the table sat a vase of fragrant roses.

  It was lovely; but I could tell, from the looks everyone exchanged, that they felt the party atmosphere was out-of-place. But, Grandpa and Grandma were smiling and ushering us to places at the table. Grandpa was wearing his best suit, Grandma a pretty, long, pink dress.

  It was one of Grandma’s memorable meals; but we barely picked at the food. There was a subdued atmosphere, a quietness not usually present when we all got together.

  We pushed our plates away, the meal half-eaten. Nobody had appetite for any more. We wondered why we had been summoned.

  Grandpa put down his napkin, cleared his throat, and stood up. “You’ve no doubt been wondering why we asked you to break bread with us tonight, when everyone’s in such a low state of mind.

  “It seems like an unendurable burden when a loved one dwindles, and life seems to be fading. Mother and I know that anguish well.”

  He paused and squeezed Grandma’s hand, then continued. “Our first, our little Emily, died at six months of diphtheria. It was hard, very hard.

  “Have you ever wondered how our pioneer relatives endured mile after mile of hardships, with loved ones dying almost daily? The trek was particularly bad for women and children. One of my grandmothers lies in an unknown grave, ‘Somewhere in Kansas Territory’, the record says. Another, a ten-year-old girl at the time, lost her entire family to cholera at St. Louis. Alone in a strange land, and she couldn’t speak English. Kind strangers took her on to the Valley.

  “Yes, our pioneers suffered, but they also rejoiced. After a hard day’s travel, they could still sing and dance around their campfires.

  “How could they? I’d often wondered. Well, I found the answer. It’s in Section 136 of the Doctrine and Covenants, called “The Word and Will of the Lord.” President Brigham Young offered it to the Saints at Winter Quarters as a revelation from their Heavenly Father just before they began the second leg of their thirteen-hundred mile journey to the Great Salt Lake Basin.

  “And now I offer a part of it to you. ‘ The Word and Will of the Lord.’ That makes it a commandment. Well, there’s a lot of good, practical advice there about how the Saints should travel. And then there’s a statement that might seem a bit strange: It says, “If thou art merry, praise the Lord with singing, with music, with dancing, and with a prayer of praise and thanksgiving.

  “‘If thou art sorrowful, call on the Lord thy God with supplication, that your souls may be joyful.’ That impressed me so much, I memorized it.”

  Grandpa paused. “And that’s what they did — took it as a commandment to be joyful. One company had a brass band accompanying them. Every band member had been converted and baptized in England and had come across the Atlantic to join the Saints. They thumped and tootled their way clear across the plains, astonishing settlers for miles around.

  “Then, there’s a story told that’s just so delightful it has to be true. A wagon train going toward the Valley had stopped to camp somewhere in Wyoming. A man rode up, traveling east. He said he was just ahead of Brigham Young and some of the brethren who were going back to Winter Quarters to get their families.

  “Well, these westward-bound Saints remembered how their leader had blazed the trail for them, and he had scarcely gotten to the Valley when he turned around and started back to get his family. They decided to show President Young their appreciation with a surprise party for him and his companions.

  “So the men went off to hunt, and the women opened the trunks they’d hauled that great distance and brought out fine tablecloths, and dishes, and silverware and spread ‘em out on the tailgates of the wagons.

  “Likely as not, those folks had been eating flour-and-water mush for quite a while, to make their supplies last. But, when Brigham Young’s party rode up, they were surprised with a grand meal of stewed venison, fish, bread baked in Dutch ovens, and precious jars of honey and preserves.

  “One-hundred-thirty people sat down to the feast. And afterwards — they danced!”

  “Now, that’s an example we should be trying to follow. Find joy in our sorrow, thank the Lord for what he has given us.”

  Grandpa looked up. “Francie, Roger, you know that, whatever happens, you will have your little Emily and little Clare in the next life, just as Mother and I know that we will have our baby.

  “Oh, rejoicing doesn’t mean that we cease to care; but it means we understand. The Lord has such great things in store for us that the sorrows of this world just dim in comparison.

  “You remember, I’m sure, the last verse of that great song, ‘Come, Come, Ye Saints’. It says: ‘And should we die before our journey’s through, happy day, all is well’. They made no exceptions. With life or death before them — they didn’t know which — they were determined to rejoice in the Lord’s goodness.

  “I just pray that we can do the same.”

  Grandpa’s voice was husky with emotion. “Well, that’s about all I had to say. I just want to quote one more scripture to you, however, from Proverbs: ‘As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man; so are children of the youth. Happy is the man who hath his quiver full of them.’“

  He looked at all of us seated at the table. “You are my quiver-full.”

  Grandpa sat down.

  There was silence. We all sat thinking on what Grandpa had said, Aunt Francie sat with her head down, her hands clasped tightly. Roger’s arm was around her.

  Then, Great-Aunt Salina May Roundtree Gillis stood up and broke the silence by exclaiming, “I say ‘amen’ to that! Let’s sing!” She herded us all into the parlor with the Brigham Young Temple Cane.

  Grandma sat at the piano; we gathered close together and sang,:

  “Come, come, ye Saints,

  No toil nor labor fear,

  But with joy wend your way:

  Tho’ hard to you

  This journey may appear,

  Grace shall be

  As your day.

  Gird up your loins,

  Fresh courage take,

  Our God will never us forsake;

  And soon we’ll have

  This truth to tell —

  All is well!

  All is well!”

  We ended the evening in one another’s arms, murmuring expressions of love. As everyone was leaving, I approached Great-Aunt Salina May Roundtree Gillis, who, I thought, had quite a lot of wisdom. At last, I knew the words to the Mormons’ favorite hymn. But I still didn’t know what the words meant. So, I asked, “Great-Aunt Salina May Roundtree Gillis, what are ‘loins?’“

  She stared at me and thumped with the Brigham Young Temple Cane. “Your biblical parts!” she announced.