The Gates of Eden by Nadene LeCheminant

Author:Nadene LeCheminant [LeCheminant, Nadene]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nadene LeCheminant
Published: 2019-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

17

THINK NOT WHEN YOU GATHER TO ZION

Think not when you gather to Zion,

Your troubles and trials are through,

That nothing but comfort and pleasure

Are waiting in Zion for you:

No, no, ’tis designed as a furnace,

All substance, all textures to try,

To burn all the “wood, hay, and stubble,”

The gold from the dross purify.

—Excerpt from a hymn written by Eliza Roxcy Snow, president of the Mormon women’s Relief Society, poet, and plural wife of Joseph Smith and Brigham Young

• • •

October 28, 1856

Dearest Meaghan—

I am sorry for not writing sooner. I am at last settled in one place but somehow I can not write letters as I used to—I cannot seem to collect my thoughts

But all though I have not taken up my pen until this evening, you have never been far from my thoughts. I received your letter in Great Salt Lake City & was elated to hear your news! You will make a good Mother—better than me. Momma used to say I am even more impatient than you. I imagine Harold is overjoyed—He will be a Father, (I will be an Aunt!) To think just last year we evesdropped through the door when he came to ask Momma for your hand, & now you are an old married lady! I can only imagine the delight of gathering things together for the arrival of your little one—

As for me, we reached the Valley in September. I waited for directions after the welcome sermon—Everything was confusion, to say the least, with 300 people to sort out. At last I hear that I am to go to Cedar City to take up residence. One of the Saints carried me & Sister Maysey in his farm wagon—I sat in the back with a load of tools for the new iron ore operation near here.

I have been called as a school teacher. For now, I am staying in the home of Brother Heber Dodd & his wife Sister Alberta Dodd.

Evenings & Saturdays are given over to waging war against dust & dirt, & endless rounds of weeding, scrubbing laundry, boiling beans, baking bread, knitting socks, feed the pig, tend to the sheep, & a 100 other tasks. I even chop wood & cut hay. My chores include what we would call mens chores in the Old Country. Sister Dodd is also a midwife & so is often gone—leaving me with the children at any unexpected hour.

Somehow I manage to also teach 4 days of school each week. The stove there is not nearly hot enough to keep the little ones warm & it is a trial for them.

I think of Momma almost constantly, asking myself again & again—Was there some thing I could have done to save her? I am tormented by memories. But I must look to the Lord for my strength & comfort—& I must be content with my lot. Although food is in short supply, it is more than the bread & potatos that were my daily fare in Liverpool, & Brother & Sister Dodd are good Saints & kind to me—as are their children.

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