Children of the Promise

by Dean Hughes

  “I also have a daughter here today who will soon return to the Hawaiian islands, where she serves as a navy nurse. What I feel today is that one sacrifice is enough. I don’t want to give any more. But the war is far from over, and I have no idea what more might be asked of me and my family—and you have no idea what will be asked of you. The great question is, are we equal to the test? This is our chance to show that we are as strong as the pioneers, that we can carry on, that we will never turn away from our God—our fathers’ God—no matter what the challenge.”

  Bobbi was moved. She really wanted to find this strength in herself. But she didn’t feel it right now. She was so tired.

  President Thomas’s voice softened. “Gene was a boy without guile. He was not suited to be a warrior. He would have been a better missionary. As it turned out, his war was over quickly, and I believe he is now serving where he is best suited.

  “Sister Thomas and I—all our family—will miss Gene throughout the balance of our mortal existence. There will never be a way to have back what is gone—not in this life. But we accept God’s will and put our trust in the Almighty. We will work unceasingly to build his kingdom here in Zion and to carry truth to the world. That’s our commitment to you.”

  But at that point President Thomas seemed to go away from his planned text. He added, in a hushed voice, “We keep saying it would be a little easier if we had him here and we could see him one last time. But maybe not. Maybe it’s better to remember him as he always was—smiling and full of fun.”

  Bobbi was sure her father had intended to end with power and promise, but he had lost all that now. And so he let himself cry for a few seconds, and then he said, “Thank you all, again, for coming,” and then he bore his testimony quietly and sat down.

  President Thomas had asked Jesse Evans Smith, a trained opera singer and wife of Elder Joseph Fielding Smith, to sing. She stood now, and in a voice that filled the big chapel, she sang “Come, Come, Ye Saints.”

  Bobbi was moved by her wonderful voice, but especially by the obvious sincerity of her feelings. Bobbi could feel her tenderness when she sang the final verse: “And should we die, before our journey’s through, happy day, all is well.” It was a hymn every Mormon knew by heart, but the lyrics seemed new today. Bobbi was understanding them for the first time. “We then are free from toil and sorrow too.” Bobbi told herself to remember that. Gene really was better off where he was.

  When Sister Smith sat down, Elder Smith got up slowly and walked to the pulpit. “I shouldn’t say anything right now,” he said. “I should say amen to that great hymn, that beautiful rendition by my wife, and we should all go home.” He hesitated. “That’s what I should do. But you all know me well enough to know I won’t do it.”

  A little ripple of laughter ran through the congregation.

  “We all know what we believe about death. Not one of us here believes that death is a tragedy. We know that this family—President Thomas and his children—are sealed together for all eternity. We know that this life is just a speck of time in that eternity, and we know that the Thomases will be together forever once this brief time ends. I don’t have to preach a sermon about all that, because we know it.”

  He looked down at the pulpit, but he had no notes to look at. “President Thomas has said what needs to be said today. He’s given himself this day to mourn, and then he has promised you that he will be back on the job as your stake president. And now my wife has sung with great power a hymn that is an anthem to all the Saints who have gone before, as well as a call to faith for those who will come after. So what else is there to say?”

  There was silence in the chapel. Elder Smith was known as a man with as deep a grasp of the gospel as anyone in the Church, and clearly everyone was waiting to hear what he might add.

  “I’m going to tell you something I’ve said many times. So it won’t come as a surprise. But it’s not enough to know a thing. We need to live what we know.”

  Again he waited.

  “Brothers and Sisters, we got into this war because we weren’t righteous enough as a people, as a nation, to avoid it. The Lord might have withheld all this misery, all this pain, but we didn’t deserve that blessing. And so we are paying dearly. But have we learned yet? Are we changing our lives?”

  He looked around at the congregation, took a long time to let the people think. “Well, I’m not sure. I see some folks living better, appreciating more, gathering their families around them, and committing themselves to righteousness. But I also visit our boys in their camps, and I’m not always happy with what I see. Some of the boys are preaching the word of God to their comrades in arms; they’re resisting sin and setting an example of proper living. But others are letting this war—the atmosphere of the military—carry them right down into the sewer.”

  Again he hesitated, his eyes darting back and forth across the congregation. He was a slender man, white-haired, with round, wire-rim glasses, and he had a hawklike way of fastening his eyes on one individual after another.

  “Far too many of our boys have taken up smoking and drinking. And I hesitate to tell you the stories I’ve heard of corruption and immorality. I hear the language used by soldiers, and I wonder whether our boys will ever be able to keep their thoughts clean, let alone their mouths. But what worries me even more is the breakdown I see here in this valley. We are changing, brothers and sisters. Some of it comes from outsiders who are coming here to work in our defense plants. But far too much of it is homegrown. I see women walking about in skirts that would embarrass their pioneer parents. Some young people, soon to be separated, conclude that morality is old-fashioned in such an age. I see men justifying every manner of behavior, forgetting that we are a society of Saints, not voracious sharpies who take financial advantage of our neighbors.

  “In many ways, as Winston Churchill said, this is our finest hour. Some people are deepening their commitment and serving church and country as never before. But this, my friends, is also our refiner’s fire, and I fear that far too many of us will be burned.”

  He laughed quietly. “I know what you’re thinking. Brother Smith is at it again. Singing the same old song. But ask yourselves whether you are better off than you were in the depths of the Depression. This war has brought hardship, but it has also brought financial prosperity. And with that has come pride. Ask yourselves, are you using your prosperity to bless your neighbors and the Church, or are you filling your head with all sorts of so-called modern ideas?”

  Elder Smith’s hands had slipped up to his lapels on his dark, double-breasted suit, but now he let them fall back to the pulpit. “Now what about this young man?” he said. “Gene Thomas. A nice-looking boy. Tall and straight. True to the gospel in every way. I watched him play football and basketball, and what a beautiful thing it was to see him play. He went into the service because he felt it was his duty. He came back from basic training without bad habits. He came home as good and kind as he ever was. So, good for him. He met the test. He kept his second estate. He’s moved on to a better world. We should be very happy for him today. He’s just the kind of boy this Church is supposed to produce.

  “What about his family? Do they have a right to ache, to miss him, to feel his absence? Of course they do. And therefore we should all ask ourselves what we can do for them. We must rally around them, support them, and love them, just as they have done for you so many times when you have suffered. We must get through this together, brothers and sisters, just as the Saints have always done. We do that by living the gospel, keeping our vision clear, and not giving ourselves over to the money-grubbing materialism that is growing in our society. We must pull each other’s wagons when they get stuck in the mud, and call upon the Spirit to give us collective strength. As President Thomas has told us, our boys are going off to die, and we must not let them die in vain. We must win our own private battles—the ones raging in our hearts and souls.”

  He stopped and ducked his head for a moment. “Well, I�
�ve said enough. Too much. Let’s all go home. The Thomases need some time together.” He suddenly closed in the name of Jesus Christ. Then he turned to President McKay. “President, did you wish to add anything?” he asked.

  President McKay hesitated, and then he rose and stepped to the podium. Elder Smith slipped around him and sat down. President McKay smiled. “Elder Smith tells us he has already said too much, and then he asks me whether I want to add some more.”

  The congregation laughed. President Thomas looked up and smiled.

  “I don’t mean to sound light-minded,” President McKay said. “But it’s not in our tradition to be too solemn on such occasions. Let me just say, first, that President Grant wanted very much to be here today. He loves President Thomas and his family and asked me to convey his sympathy and best wishes. As you know, however, even though his health has improved, he’s not able to do all the things he would like to do.”

  President McKay paused and seemed to think for a moment. “As Elder Smith has said, this is, in many ways, a day of celebration. We should all be happy for young Gene Thomas, who met the challenges of this life so well.”

  President McKay looked down at Sister Thomas, along with Bobbi and Millie, LaRue and Beverly. “And yet . . . I’ve been sitting here thinking about these women and girls here on the front row: Gene’s mother and sisters and, as I’m told, his sweetheart. I know that all their hearts are breaking. How could it be otherwise?”

  President McKay’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m reminded of another of our brothers whose life was also taken at an early age. And I’m reminded of the women who wept for him outside the sepulchre. Christ chose to visit these women first after he arose from the dead. It was they he chose to comfort and then to send forth to spread the good news that he had risen.”

  President McKay looked slowly back and forth along the row, making eye contact with each. “Sisters, Christ is with you now. He wants to comfort you. Don’t wrestle too much with the realities just yet, but open your hearts and give Christ the chance to heal your pain. Most of us here today have known the heartbreak that comes with the loss of a loved one. Everyone eventually will. Only Christ offers the balm that can ease your suffering. I’m not talking about theology now; I’m talking about peace. I’m talking about a spirit that soothes our hearts, gives strength when all other strength is gone. I’m talking about an inner reassurance that lies beyond words, even beyond hope. There are simply times when we must give our hands to the Savior and let him lead us through the dark.”

  President McKay was a handsome man, with a warm, good smile. He smiled at Bobbi and the others now, but tears were on his cheeks. “I’m not telling you this is easy. But I bear

  my testimony that when the darkest hours come to us, God doesn’t step aside and let us go it on our own. Don’t think any more than you have to for a little while. Just turn to him and take things one day at a time.”

  He bore his testimony of the gospel then, closed in the name of Christ, and sat down.

  In closing, the congregation sang, “God Be With You ‘Til We Meet Again,” the hymn Mom had chosen but which Bobbi had wished not to sing. It seemed to crack her heart in half just when she had started to feel a little better.

  After, the Thomases stood at the front of the chapel. President McKay and Elder Smith came to them first, talked quietly for a few minutes, and then left. President and Sister Thomas, along with the girls, shook hands with many people who wished to offer their condolences and hadn’t had the chance to do so before the meeting. Millie waited, still sitting up front. Some people stopped to talk with her, too.

  Then the family gathered in the gymnasium, and the Relief Society served a big dinner. After that, many of the family members went back to the Thomases’ home. The atmosphere there was strangely like Christmas, with so much family around, and the mood not really so different. Bobbi heard laughter in the house, and friendly greetings, and she took comfort in that Mormon style of consoling each other.

  But Bobbi was worried about Millie, and so she took her upstairs to her old room, which was LaRue’s now. Millie lay on the bed and cried for a time, with Bobbi next to her, gently patting her back.

  “Bobbi,” Millie said after a time, “I don’t see how I can do this. I have my whole life to live, and it feels like I can’t do it without him. I know President McKay is right, but . . . everything just seems so pointless to me right now.”

  “You’ve had a crush on Gene since you were about thirteen, haven’t you?”

  Millie rolled onto her side and looked at Bobbi. Her blonde curls were falling apart and her eyes were red, but she looked pretty, so delicate. “Bobbi, I was crazy about him when I was just a little girl in grade school. As far back as I can remember. He was so shy and so sweet, and I loved him long before he ever took any interest in girls. He’s the only boy I’ve ever wanted. And now, just when he finally started to feel the same way about me, I have to give him up.”

  “When he came to Hawaii, he talked about you, Millie. He told me he hadn’t wanted to make any promises to you, because the future was so hard to know. But I could tell how much he loved you.”

  “I know. He told me—finally—that last time he was home.” She put her head back into the pillow and let herself sob.

  “This will be made right somehow,” Bobbi said. “It has to.”

  “How?” Millie raised her head again. “Do I marry someone else in the temple—and lose Gene? I promised him I would wait forever, so do I do that and never have a chance to have a family in this life?”

  But Bobbi had no answer for that. She only said, “Millie, I might be in the same position before this war is over, so I’ve thought a lot about it. I don’t know what I’ll do either.”

  “So tell me how it can work out right.”

  “I don’t know. I just believe it will.”

  Bobbi realized she had nothing to say that would help right now. So she let Millie cry. And she thought of Richard. For Bobbi, the problem was even more complicated. She didn’t know Richard very well. How could she reach a sensible conclusion if she ended up having to make the same choice?

  After a time Mom came upstairs. “How are you two doing?” she asked as she stepped into the room.

  “Not very well, to tell the truth,” Bobbi said.

  Mom walked over and sat on the bed. “I’m not sure how I’m doing, but I know I’ve heard enough people tell me that I have to be strong. Right now, I just want my son back—and I don’t want any more kindness.”

  Bobbi laughed. “Thanks, Mom,” she said. “You always tell the truth.”

  Sister Thomas reached over and rubbed Millie’s back. “I’ll tell you this much—the women will have to be the strong ones. Men give good sermons, but they’re not half so good at carrying on after the funeral is over. It’s all about keeping the clothes washed and the floors swept, when it gets right down to it. Now come on, I need your help. Come downstairs and help me put the house back together. Most everyone is gone.”

  And so they went downstairs, all three of them, and they washed the dishes left over from that morning—and from the fruit juice Mom had served to the family. They carried chairs back to their places, and Bobbi vacuumed the living room. It was surprising how much good it did her just to do that. LaRue and Beverly helped, too, and after, they all sat down at the kitchen table, and Sister Thomas got all the girls talking about the new styles. “I surely agree with Brother Smith about one thing,” Sister Thomas said. “I can’t find a skirt long enough to cover me up. I have to make everything for myself, and then I can’t get material.”

  “Dad about threw a fit when he saw my new church dress,” LaRue said. “But that’s the only thing the stores sell now. I bought it at ZCMI, for heaven’s sake.” She laughed. “The lady at the store said the skirts are shorter because the dress companies are on rations for material. I told Dad I was just being patriotic.”

  “You’re doing your part, aren’t you?” Bobbi said.


  LaRue’s pretty smile flashed, and she lowered her voice. “To tell the truth, I love the styles. But then, I have the legs for them.”

  Everyone laughed, and Mom said, “Well, I don’t. And it’s almost impossible to buy a pair of nylon stockings anymore.”

  “Get some of that makeup, Mom,” LaRue said. “That’s what everyone is using. It looks exactly like you’re wearing nylons.”

  “You have to be careful with the stuff,” Bobbi said, and she started to laugh. “Some of our nurses tried it in Hawaii, and in all that humidity it got sticky. They got makeup all over their white dresses, and Lieutenant Kallas about threw a fit.”

  “I don’t want to use it,” Millie said. “It’s too much bother.”

  Bobbi watched Beverly, who was almost thirteen now and clearly eager to be part of this. “LaRue tried it,” she said. “She had me draw a line up the back of her leg, for a seam, and I got it all crooked. It was a mess.”

  Beverly was giggling, but Mom said, “LaRue, you don’t need to be thinking about nylons.”

  This set off a good-natured little debate, but as the conversation quieted, Millie said, “Sister Thomas, my mom told me that J. C. Penney’s got in some material—mostly cottons. I thought I’d go down and take a look tomorrow. You might want to take a peek while they still have something. We could go together, if you want.”

  These were important words, coming from Millie. Bobbi heard her saying, “There’s something I plan to do. Tomorrow.”

  Dad had spent some time in his office, and now, when he walked into the kitchen, he seemed a little surprised to see the five females gathered around the kitchen table. “Did you want any supper?” Sister Thomas asked.

  “No. I ate enough over at the church.”

  “I know. But I need to cook. How about if I splurge and use up my sugar? I could bake something.”

  “Sounds good,” Bobbi said.

  “I was thinking we might have a family prayer,” Dad said.

  “Yes. We’ll do that,” Sister Thomas said. “But not right now. We don’t need to start crying again. LaRue and Beverly, why don’t you run over to Piggly-Wiggly’s and get us some eggs, and Millie and Bobbi can help me think what to bake. Al, you read the newspapers. You’ve got four of them stacked up in the magazine rack.”