Lydia smiled brightly at her children. “And she will, I’m sure, Emily.” She looked at her eldest. “Joshua, you must make yourself stop worrying about them. They will be all right.”
But she knew it sounded forced. Like her son, Lydia had this terrible dread that they might never see Jessica and Rachel again. But it was more than that. In addition to a difficult journey, there was the stark reality of what awaited them once they arrived. The citizens of Clay County, who had kindly taken in the exiles from Jackson County two years earlier, were now saying that the Saints had overstayed their welcome. The leaders there had written to Joseph. Plans were being made to look for a haven elsewhere in the state, but for now, tension in Clay County was mounting. It wasn’t a good time to go to Missouri.
There was a sound in the hall, and Lydia turned. Nathan had been putting six-month-old baby Nathan to bed. Evidently he had been able to hear part of the conversation, because he moved directly over to Joshua and dropped into a crouch, facing his son. “Your mother’s right, Joshua. Aunt Jessica and Rachel aren’t traveling alone. Besides the Knights, they’ll also have the Lord with them.”
There was a momentary look of surprise, then Joshua’s lower lip shot out into a pout. He gave a stubborn shake of his head and looked away.
Nathan was a little startled. “What?”
There was no answer. Nor did the head come around.
“Come on,” Nathan prodded gently. “What is it?”
“It was the Lord who took Aunt Jessie and Rachel away from us.”
“Joshua!”
Nathan held up one hand toward Lydia. “No, Mother, in a way Joshua’s right. Jessica said she felt a strong prompting to return to Missouri. So in that sense it was the Lord who took them away from us.” He turned to his son again. “Do you think Heavenly Father did that because he wanted to hurt us?”
There were several seconds of silence, then a barely murmured, “No.”
“I don’t either. It does hurt. We’re going to miss them a lot, but Heavenly Father always does what is best, even if sometimes it hurts others a little.”
Emily had pushed her slate aside. She stood and came over to her father, putting one arm around his shoulder. “Can’t Heav’nly Father make it so nobody hurts?”
Nathan sat down on the floor and took his daughter in his lap. “Come here, Joshua.” He patted the floor next to him. As Joshua did so, Lydia’s mouth softened into a smile. Her two children were looking up at their father, their eyes wide and trusting. She knew what was about to happen, and she felt a great upsurge of love and gratitude for this man who was her husband. This was something she had never had from her own father. He had always been there, had always loved her. But, in his mind, it was a woman’s place to show affection, to hold and cuddle the children, talk to them, teach them. He had never been harsh or unkind, just aloof and distant. Nathan had given her a whole new perspective on what it meant to be a father.
“Joshua,” Nathan was saying, “Emily has asked a very important question. Can Heavenly Father make it so no one hurts?”
The handsome little face twisted in deep thought. “I don’t know.”
“Did Jesus ever hurt?”
Emily nodded soberly. Joshua did the same. Lydia stood and set her sewing aside. She moved over and sat down next to them. She wanted to be part of this. “Could Heavenly Father have made it so Jesus didn’t have to hurt?” she asked.
Emily nodded immediately. Joshua, more slowly, was shaking his head.
“Why not, Joshua?” Lydia asked softly.
“Because Jesus had to die for us.”
“Do you think Heavenly Father wanted him to hurt?” Nathan asked.
“No,” he finally said, again after some thought. “I don’t think so.”
“Then why did he let him suffer so much pain?”
Now Joshua understood. “To help us?”
Nathan reached out and touched his arm. “Exactly, Joshua. Sometimes doing what’s best may cause some people to be hurt or be sad, but we have to trust Heavenly Father. He always knows what is best.”
“Papa, do you think we’ll ever get to see Aunt Jessica and Rachel again?”
Nathan took a deep breath, then let it out slowly as he considered that. “Yes, Joshua,” he finally said. He saw his wife’s eyebrows raise, but he went on more firmly. “I don’t know when. I don’t know how. But I have a feeling we’ll get to see them again.”
Joshua’s large blue eyes appraised his father’s for a moment. Then he seemed satisfied. “Good,” was all he said.
Lydia watched her son’s face closely, noting once again how strong the resemblance between him and his Uncle Joshua was becoming. Was this why the Lord had inspired Nathan to name him as he had? She had not seen Joshua Steed for over eight years now, but his image was still clear in her mind. And young Joshua had the same handsome features, the same dark hair, the same habit of jutting out his chin in stubborn defiance when someone was trying to make him do something he did not want to do.
She remembered with perfect clarity the day Nathan had taken their infant son in his arms to name and bless him. Beforehand they had both agreed they would call their firstborn Nathan Benjamin Steed, after his father and grandfather. Nathan had begun the blessing normally enough, but suddenly his voice had changed. And then he had stunned everyone, including himself. “His name shall be Joshua Benjamin Steed.” Later, others had felt bad for Lydia. But she did not. At the very moment Nathan was speaking the words, Lydia had felt a thrill shoot through her. Like Nathan, she didn’t fully understand why the Lord wanted their son called Joshua, but that he did was not a question in her mind.
Nathan stood up, swooping Emily up in his arms. “Come on, kids. We got you up early this morning. It’s time for bed. Let’s say our prayers.”
He walked over to the large sofa and let Emily down gently, then knelt beside her. Lydia took young Joshua’s hand and led him over, and they both knelt down too.
“Can I say the prayer tonight, Papa?” Emily asked.
He started to nod, but Lydia answered quickly. “I think we ought to let Papa say it tonight. Have him say a special prayer for Aunt Jessica and Rachel. And ask that Heavenly Father will keep our family strong.”
Emily nodded immediately at that and dropped her head to her hands. Joshua followed suit. Lydia smiled at her husband as they took each other’s hands, then bowed their heads as well.
* * *
Lydia leaned over the bed and pulled the blanket up under Emily’s chin. She gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Good night, Emmy.”
“Good night, Mama.”
“Good night, Joshua.”
“Good night, Mama.”
She turned to Nathan and gave him a stern look. “Don’t wake the baby.”
He looked offended that she would even imply such a thing. She smiled as she left them. He always lingered for a few minutes after Lydia had kissed the children good night. Supposedly it was to talk softly to them until eyes became heavy and they drifted off to sleep, but as often as not, he would get them giggling or squealing in delight. No wonder they loved him so much.
Out in the hallway she stopped and leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling a great surge of happiness. What a good life! What a wonderful, rich life they had! Surprised at the depths of her feelings, she walked into the living room, went to the chair, and picked up her sewing again. But she just held it in her lap, not wanting to lessen the feelings that had welled up in her. She and Nathan had three healthy, lovely children who were the delight of her life. The love between them was deepening to the point that she found herself a little bit awed by it. Not many couples had what they enjoyed.
They were not rich, by any means, but compared to many of the Saints in Kirtland, they were doing well financially. The two farms Nathan was running for his father had produced their second bountiful crop. Lydia no longer substituted for William McLellin at the Kirtland School, but her experience in her father’s store had prompted N
ewel Whitney to bring her in one day a week for a few hours to help out in his store. He paid in goods, and it proved to be a small but appreciated addition to their other income.
A knock at the door brought Lydia out of her thoughts.
Nathan was just coming out of the bedroom. “I’ll get it.”
“Brother Nathan. Good evening.”
Nathan blocked her view of the door, but there was no mistaking that booming voice. It was Heber C. Kimball, one of the Twelve Apostles. That surprised her a little. Not that it was that late, but Heber ran a pottery business on the Painesville Road, some distance northeast of town. She stood and went to join Nathan.
“Well, hello, Brother Heber,” Nathan said. “This is a pleasant surprise. Come in, come in.” He stepped back, holding the door open.
“Good evening, Brother Heber.”
“Good evening, Sister Lydia. It’s good to see you again.”
He swept off his hat, which showed his balding head, the hair in some disarray. Heber Kimball was the son of a blacksmith and had spent the first years of his life working in his father’s shop and performing other tasks on the family farm. He was as strong as any two men, and built somewhat along the lines of a two-hundred-year-old oak tree. He often said he was the only man alive whose chest measurements were the same from side to side as they were front to back. But he was a pleasant man, quick to laugh, and always congenial, especially with women and children.
“Can I get you some bread and a glass of milk?”
He smiled broadly. “Thank you very much, Sister Steed, but I’m on an errand just now.” He turned to Nathan. “I was wondering if you might help me, Brother Steed.”
“Of course. What is it?”
“Normally I get Brigham to help me, but he’s not available. Brother Joseph is away right now with President Williams. I stopped at Brother Sidney’s house, but he has company. Then I thought of you.” He looked at Lydia. “I hope you don’t mind me coming this time of night.”
“Not at all. What do you need?”
He sighed, turning back to Nathan. “Of late I’ve felt a great concern for Brother Parley Pratt.”
Lydia felt a little start of surprise. As they had walked home from the Whitney store that morning, she and Nathan had somehow started talking about the Pratts. They had moved to Kirtland a few months ago from the town of New Portage, which was about fifty-five miles south of Kirtland. Word was that Parley, who was also one of the Twelve, felt the need to go on another mission but was totally destitute. His wife, Thankful, who had been stricken with consumption for the past six years, was quite ill.
“We have had some concern as well,” Nathan was saying. “What would you like me to do?”
“I’ve been thinking that perhaps Parley could use a blessing,” Brother Kimball said. “I need a good, faithful elder to assist me.”
“Of course. Let me get my coat.”
Nathan was back in a moment. He gave Lydia a quick kiss. “Don’t wait up for me. I don’t know how long we’ll be.”
“I’ll be up. Take what time you need.”
The two of them left, and Lydia watched them for a moment from the door. As she started to shut it, she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see Joshua standing there in his nightshirt. She shut the door and walked to her son. “I’m sorry, Joshua, we didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I was awake.”
“Papa is going with Brother Kimball to give Parley Pratt a blessing.”
Joshua looked up. “What’s the matter with Brother Pratt, Mama?”
“He’s having a difficult time right now with his family.”
“How come Sister Pratt always looks so sick?”
She gave him an appraising look. It was startling what children noticed sometimes. “She has consumption.”
“Is that bad?”
Lydia sighed, thinking of times she had seen Thankful so weak that she could barely lift a hand from her bed. “Yes, Joshua, it’s a disease in the lungs. It can be very bad.”
“Is that why she can’t have any children?”
Lydia nodded in surprise. Joshua’s maturity continually amazed her. “Probably. They both so want a baby, but they just haven’t been able to have one so far.”
His eyes were solemn as he considered that. “Should we pray for them, Mama?”
Lydia’s mouth dropped slightly, then she smiled warmly. “That’s a wonderful idea, Joshua. Let’s offer a prayer for the Pratts, and let’s also pray that Brother Kimball and Papa will have the Spirit with them when they bless Brother Pratt.” She bent down slightly, taking his face in both hands. “It makes me very happy that you would think of that, Joshua. Very happy.”
* * *
Nathan was a little shocked at the appearance of Thankful Pratt. She had always been a frail person, thin, wan in complexion, ravaged by the consumption that would not leave her body. But now she looked especially weak. Her eyes were sunken and rimmed with dark circles. Her lips were pale and looked parched. Her hands trembled as she pulled at the front of her robe.
They had raised Parley and his wife from their bed, even though it was not yet eight o’clock in the evening. Parley had been stunned to open the door and find his brethren standing there. Nathan had to smile. There wasn’t much that left Parley P. Pratt speechless. Thankful was equally glad to see them, but after asking a few questions about Lydia and Emma and Nathan’s mother, she fell quiet, exhausted by the effort that speaking required.
Now, as he and his wife sat on the simple bench that served as their couch, Parley looked at Heber. “So what has brought about this pleasant surprise?” he asked.
Heber paused only for a moment. “Just an impression,” he said simply. Then he leaned back. “So how are things, my friend?”
For a moment, Parley just looked at the two of them, his face troubled. Finally he shook his head. “Not good, Brother Heber, not good.”
Heber just nodded, waiting.
“I have been deeply troubled of late. It is spring now, and many of the elders are preparing to leave on missions. I feel the urgings to do the same. After all, I do hold the holy calling of the apostleship. But things here are not well. Thankful has still not recovered from the strain of moving from Missouri. This past winter I went deeply into debt to purchase a lot and build this home so we would have a place to stay. As you know, my mother is here as well and must be cared for. So I know not what to do. Shall I go on a mission, leaving Thankful to the care of others? Shall I simply forget my debts, or shall I stay here in Kirtland and by my industry endeavor to earn sufficient money to care for my family and meet my other obligations?”
He passed a hand over his eyes. “This very night I became so troubled by the question that I retired to bed early. I was lying there pondering my future course at the very moment your knock came at the door.” He gave them a grateful smile. “So you can see why I am so pleased at your coming.”
“We are so grateful you would come,” Thankful said quietly. “It is very good of you.”
Heber stood. He looked to Nathan, who stood to join him. “We are here to give you a blessing, Brother Parley. That is what the Spirit whispers, and I am a firm believer in following what the Spirit tells us to do.”
He took one of the simple chairs from the table and set it in the middle of the room. Parley rose slowly, smiling briefly at the two of them before sitting in it. Nathan and Heber moved around behind Parley, Heber standing directly behind him. He paused for a moment, his eyes hooded, then laid his hands on Parley’s head. Nathan did the same.
“Brother Parley Parker Pratt,” Heber began in a quiet voice, “in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, and by the authority of the holy Melchizedek Priesthood which we hold, we lay our hands upon your head to give you a blessing.”
He fell silent for several moments, and Nathan felt a little stir of excitement within him. He had once heard Joseph Smith say of Heber C. Kimball that here was a man in whom resided the gift of prophecy. Nathan had not
witnessed that personally, but had heard others relate examples of it. Now it was a thrill to be standing beside him.
“Brother Parley”—Heber’s voice was suddenly strong and sure—“I come at this time to give you a blessing as one of the Lord’s chosen Apostles. And this blessing is not only for thee, but for thy good wife as well. The Spirit whispers that your wife shall be healed of her affliction from this very hour. She shall also conceive and bear you a son.”
Nathan felt Parley stiffen beneath their hands. He also heard a soft gasp of amazement from Thankful. Parley and his wife had been married for ten years now and were childless. And Thankful’s consumption had been declared to be incurable. This was electrifying.
Heber was continuing. “Thou shalt call his name Parley, after your own name. He shall be a chosen instrument in the hands of the Lord, to inherit the priesthood and walk in the steps of his father. He shall do a great work in ministering the word and teaching the children of men.”
Heber paused again for a moment, and Nathan could hear Thankful crying quietly beside them. Then with great firmness Heber went on. “Arise, therefore, and go forth in the ministry, nothing doubting. Take no thoughts for your debts, nor the necessaries of life, for the Lord will supply you with abundant means for all things. Thou shalt go to Upper Canada, even to the city of Toronto, the capital, and there thou shalt find a people prepared for the fulness of the gospel. They shall receive thee, and thou shalt organize the Church among them, and it shall spread thence into the regions round about. Many shall be brought to the knowledge of the truth and shall be filled with joy because of your labors. And from the things growing out of this mission, shall the fulness of the gospel spread into England, and cause a great work to be done in that land.”
Nathan was reeling. The promises were coming faster than he could comprehend them.
“You shall not only have means to deliver you from your present embarrassments,” Heber went on, “but you shall yet have riches, silver and gold, till you will loath the counting thereof.”
There was one last pause, then Heber’s voice dropped, and he finished more slowly. “This blessing we pronounce upon you by the power of the holy priesthood and through the promptings of the Lord’s Holy Spirit. And we do it in the name of our beloved Savior, Jesus Christ, amen.”
The Work and the Glory Page 100