July 4th Celebration

What a fun, crazy weekend! I'm sure most of you can say the same thing. I suspect most of us were out celebrating the birth of our nation, enjoying family traditions and food. This year, we decided to make up some fun things to eat. We created shish-kebabs.

We grilled them outside and they cooked up in a hurry.

Here Devin is showing off the finished product.

We also made up a favorite triple-layer jello salad.

And to top everything off, we made homemade huckleberry ice cream. Jealous? ;)

Later we went into town and listened to a live band that was performing at the park. After that, we enjoyed the fireworks display that was launched from M-Hill in Montpelier. I forgot to bring in my camera, so I didn't get any cool shots that night.

All weekend I've been thinking about past 4th of July festivities and I realized that one of my favorite celebrations took place in Nauvoo, Illinois a couple of years ago. We had journeyed back to see all of the historical LDS sites that summer and happened to be in Nauvoo on the 4th of July. We started that day by taking a fun wagon ride around this beautiful city.

After that, we watched the 4th of July parade. It was smaller than our usual hometown parade, but it was still great to see. Most of the entries were compliments of the LDS missionaries who were serving in the area.

Above you'll see some of the actors & actresses from the Nauvoo Pageant.

And here is the famed Nauvoo Brass Band.

After the parade, we walked around a local craft fair and found all kinds of neat things, including some of the best home-made fudge ever. Then we traveled to nearby Carthage, Illinois and toured Carthage Jail. This was the second time that I've seen this heart-rending landmark. It tears at my heart whenever I think about what Joseph and Hyrum Smith suffered inside this jail. But there is a difference now. Since the completion of the new Nauvoo Temple, there is a feeling of peace in the area. That is what I experienced during most of the time we spent in Carthage. There is a sense of closure now that wasn't there before.

We left Carthage, and drove across the Mississippi River into nearby Keokuk. There we were privileged to watch as a huge barge traveled through a river lock and dam.

We returned to Nauvoo, grabbed a quick bite of lunch, then watched a rehearsal of the Nauvoo Pageant. We were leaving Nauvoo the next day to head to Adam-Ondi-Ahman and Liberty Jail, and since the pageant wasn't being performed the night of the 4th for obvious reasons, we were told to watch the afternoon rehearsal. It was an enjoyable performance, enacted below the temple.

My favorite part of the entire day took place that night. We gathered in front of the lighted Nauvoo Temple and watched the fireworks display that was launched across the Mississippi River.

I've always loved celebrating the 4th of July. My maternal grandfather was born on July 4th, so it was a traditional family gathering each year. We ate wonderful food, spent time visiting with everyone, and thoroughly enjoyed the fireworks at night. Flags were flown and waved as we remembered those who sacrificed so much to make this nation free. I found it ironic that on July 4, 2007, we also reflected on the sacrifices made by Joseph and his beloved brother, Hyrum as we visited the Nauvoo area. All of these sacrifices pale in comparison to the price our Savior paid for all of us. Things of worth seem to require a tremendous cost. I pray we'll always be grateful for those who were willing to lay down their lives on our behalf. Honoring their memory will help us keep the perspective we'll need to survive the days ahead.

Shots of the Mormon Trail

This week I decided to stick with the pioneer theme of things and share a poem I wrote after seeing a portion of the Mormon Trail for the first time in 1994, shortly before my first book, "Kate's Turn," was published. Eager to explore the Mormon Trail for myself, we made a family trip out of the occasion and drove up to an area in Wyoming known as Martin's Cove. This is the site where so many pioneers lost their lives after a handcart company became stranded during a severe storm.

In that same area, you can see Independence Rock, a rock formation where the pioneers carved their names in the granite face. Nearby you can also see Devil's Gate, a perpendicular cleft between two mountainous cliffs. It was there that I received the inspiration to write the following poem. After I share it, I'll include a few pictures that were taken during our 1997 trip to Nauvoo---we followed the Mormon Trail as closely as we could upon our return. During that trip, we traveled with 2 other families---close friends and relatives. It was a wonderful experience. I'll place captions under these pictures to make it easier for you to understand what you're seeing. First, the poem (Incidentally, the picture above is of Devil's Gate.):

Thoughts at Devil’s Gate

As I stand where you once stood, a shiver runs down my spine,
And with it, the sensation of stepping back in time.
The wind moves freely through the grassy plain, sagebrush stands a dismal grey—
Clouds hurry forward, darkening the heated day.
The barren hills echo still, the sounds of sacrifice and pain,
Rutted trails bear witness of the courageous spirit that did sustain.

With wonder, I gaze at the challenges, remembering the trials that were endured,
And experience feelings that can’t be shared or translated into written word.
Would I have passed the tests you triumphed—could I have stood the Refiner’s Fire,
That purified your sainted heart—leaving a legacy to inspire?

Turning now from the past I know my tests are of a different time,
Somehow, knowing you persevered gives me hope in facing mine.
Pioneer blood flows through these veins—that courage is in my heart,
The journey that I make in life, will someday play a part
In the lives of those who follow; may these paths unite us into one,
Those who went on before, and those who are to come.

Cheri J. Crane
1994


All that was left of the original Nauvoo Temple in 1997. You can see most of the foundation, and we were told that this circular area was where the original baptismal font was located.

The memorials to Emma Hale Smith, Joseph Smith Jr., and Hyrum Smith--Nauvoo 1997.

Memorial to all those buried in the Winter Quarters area. (June 1997)

A trail marker along the Oregon\Mormon Trail. The two trails link for a time. Incidentally, this area (Ash Hollow, Nebraska) is where my 2nd-great-grandmother, Keturah Lunn, gave birth to her son, Orson Broadbent in 1852. (Yep, that's my family posing by the Oregon Trail monument.)



This is a modern wagon train we ran into on our trip near Fort Laramie, Wyoming. It was a 1997 sesquicentennial commemorative journey made to honor the Mormon Pioneers who traveled this same route in 1847.



This is a picture of the wagon ruts in Wyoming that are still visible.

And here we have a portion of Independence Rock. I'm one of the two people climbing it in this picture. From a distance, this looks like a giant turtle. You can still see some of the pioneer names that were carved into the granite.


This is a shot of the Martin's Cove area. As you can see, my family is pulling one of the handcarts that are available at the visitor's center. This gives you a chance to see what some of the pioneers endured on their journey. Very much worth the time to experience. (June 1997)

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Pioneer Heritage

Since it's July and at some point during the month, (usually around the 24th) our thoughts center on our pioneer heritage, I felt it would be fitting to touch on this item today and share a bit of pioneer culture.

I really like what President Uchtdorf said recently about the pioneers: "I have no ancestors among the 19th century pioneers. However, since the first days of my Church membership, I have felt a close kinship to those early pioneers who crossed the plains. They are my spiritual ancestry, as they are for each and every member of the Church, regardless of nationality, language, or culture. They established not only a safe place in the West but also a spiritual foundation for the building of the kingdom of God in all the nations of the world." (July 2008 Ensign, pg. 5)

He added in a further paragraph: " . . . we are all pioneers in our own sphere and circumstance." I wholeheartedly agree. It is my belief that we are all converts to the gospel, and that we have numerous opportunities to blaze a trail for those who will follow in our footsteps.

I have been blessed by the courageous example of pioneer ancestors. I thought today I would tell you a little bit about some of these people who have been an influence in my life.

My 4th-great-grandfather on my father's side of the family was a stalwart individual named David Foote. (The picture above shows David Foote to the left, and his son, Warren Foote to the right.) In 1833 after hearing the Gospel preached near his home in Greenwood, New York, David chose to be baptized into the LDS Church. His conversion made a huge impact on his son, Warren, who began studying the Book of Mormon. These two men were the first members of their family to embrace the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Their family wasn't terribly amused over this decision.

In a journal entry that Warren wrote on May 20, 1938 he shares:

"Oh, that my mother, and brothers, and sisters could see as I see, and understand the scriptures as I do, that we might not be separated, but journey together in this probation. For I most assuredly believe the Book of Mormon to be authentic, and that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God . . . But we must all act upon our own agency. They choose to reject the gospel . . . but I choose to go with my father to Missouri where God has commanded His people to gather together to serve Him."

My 3rd-great-uncle Warren kept such wonderful journals, the originals are kept in the archives of the Church as historical references. After proving our relationship to this man, my brother was able to access these journals. He spent a great deal of time hand-copying the entries. Then we discovered that someone else had done this for us---it was all online in a BYU historical file. ;) We still appreciated Tom's dedication.

We each have a copy of Uncle Warren's journal. It is a family treasure. He has recorded significant events that occurred in the history of our church. Among those entries is the record of what transpired during the carnage at Haun's Mill. Warren's future wife survived that ordeal---Aunt Sidnie was only ten years old at the time. Warren recorded that several of those who died were later buried in Sidnie's brother's well.

The entry that has possibly touched our hearts the most is the one that was recorded on June 28, 1844:

"Elihu Allen and I were working in the harvest field cutting his wheat when about 3:00 p.m. my wife came out and told us that word had just come that Joseph Smith and his brother, Hyrum, were shot in Carthage Jail yesterday afternoon . . . it so affected us that we dropped the cradle and rake and went home. We found that the word had come so straight that we could no longer doubt the truth of it. We all felt as though the powers of darkness had overcome, and that the Lord had forsaken His people. Our Prophet and Patriarch were gone. Who now is to lead the Saints . . . Yet after all the anguish of our hearts, and deep mourning of our souls, a spirit seemed to whisper, 'All is well. Zion shall yet arise and spread abroad upon the earth, and the kingdoms of this world shall become the Kingdom of our God."

On my mother's side of the family, we are descended from a wonderful man named Thomas Grover. My 4th-great-grandfather served faithfully as one of the body guards to the Prophet Joseph Smith. Steadfast and true to whatever he was asked to do, Thomas was severely tried when his wife, Caroline Whiting, died, leaving him with six young daughters to raise on his own. Thomas' duties were such that his daughters were farmed out for a time among several residents of Nauvoo. My third great-grandmother, Mary Elizabeth Grover, lived with Emma and Joseph until his martyrdom.

Mary was about eleven years old when this happened. She recorded the following about this sad event:

"The evening that the Prophet and Hyrum were brought home from Carthage, after they had been martyred, I will never forget. Everybody stood along the street holding hands, and bowed their heads in solemn reverence as the bodies were escorted through the street. Everyone's heart was so filled with sorrow, it seemed as if the world would come to an end. My father, Thomas Grover, helped wash and prepare them for burial. Their caskets were set on chairs side by side in the hall of the Prophet's home. Hundreds viewed their remains . . ."



In 1846, Thomas Grover and his family were driven from Nauvoo. Loading what they could inside a wagon, they crossed the Mississippi River on a flatboat. Half-way across, a young man from a nearby steamboat spit tobacco juice into the eye of one of the oxen. Both oxen began cavorting about until they plunged into the river, taking the wagon with them into the icy water. Destitute, the Grovers had to rely on the generosity of others to survive that harsh winter.

In the spring of 1847, Thomas was asked to be part of the vanguard company that would journey to Utah. When it was realized that they would have to cross the Platte River, Thomas, a former river boat captain, was asked to design and help build the raft that would carry the wagons safely across. The Prophet Brigham Young asked Thomas to remain with the raft, to ferry the Saints across who would be coming behind them. Thomas was told that he could charge those who were not members of the Church for this same service, to regain the finances necessary to eventually bring his own family to Utah.

In Susan Easton's Black book, "Who's Who in the Doctrine Covenants," a eulogy written by one of Thomas Grover's daughters is recorded:

"My father was loved by all who knew him. He never spoke evil of anyone; he did not boast, and he did not take honor unto himself. Many times he divided his last meal with a sufferer. His word was as good as his bond. He could neither be bought nor sold."

This is quite a legacy we've inherited. =) These were people who suffered, made courageous choices, and sacrificed so much because of their desire to heed the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Last year I was able to spend some time in the Old Nauvoo Burial Grounds. Several of my ancestors are buried in this sacred location. Their graves are lost; mobbers broke the headstones as they wreaked havoc in Nauvoo to drive the Saints away from their beloved home. A small building serves as a memorial to these lost graves. The walls are filled with the names of those who were buried here.



One of my goals in life is to honor their memory, to live my life in such a way that someday, when they catch on that I'm one of their descendants, we'll have a pleasant conversation when they ask what I did with their name(s).

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4th of July Nauvoo Style

Last year at this same time I happened to be in Nauvoo, Illinois. My husband and I had traveled there with his mother and stepfather. According to the journal entry I made on July 4, 2007, we began the day by going for a wagon ride around Nauvoo Old Town. Naturally I took lots of pictures which I will share throughout this blog.



The shot above is a picture of the Nauvoo Temple that I took while sitting on a wooden seat in the wagon. This is a great way to see the restored buildings and homes that make up the heart of Nauvoo. The grove of trees you can see below is gorgeous. Our tour guide told us that this is where the Prophet Joseph Smith would often preach to the gathered Saints.



After the wagon ride, we drove back to the "new" section of Nauvoo for the much anticipated 4th of July parade. Before it started, we slipped into a nearby candy shop and bought luscious homemade fudge to nibble on. The parade started at 11:00 a.m. and took place down a street called Mulhalland. It was over about ten minutes later. Though the parade was small (3 of the 4 entries were compliments of the LDS missionaries serving in the area) it was still festive and we enjoyed it.

When the parade was over, we wandered through several of the arts and craft booths that were set up along the way. I found a large crystal lined geode that was on sale for $2.00. My father-in-law tried to find one similar and failed. We agreed I was the bargain queen that afternoon. =)

We ate a quick bite of lunch, then drove to nearby Carthage for a tour of Carthage Jail. I had been in this location once before a few years earlier and during that first visit, had felt a trifle sad after seeing for myself where our beloved prophet had spent his final moments. This time, the sadness was replaced by peace. A cousin of mine mentioned that she experienced the same thing and she attributes the change to the peaceful feeling that now exists in Nauvoo with the restoration of the Nauvoo Temple.



From Carthage, we traveled over the Mississippi River to a small town called Keokuk. We had been told that in years past, geodes could be found on the banks of the Mississippi River in this location. We didn't find any that day, but we did get to see a barge pass through a dam lock on its way up the Mississippi River.



Dinner that night took place at Hotel Nauvoo. This restaurant features a wonderful buffet with a variety of tasty food. After we had enjoyed far more food than we should have, we left the Hotel and drove into Old Town Nauvoo to watch a rehearsal of the Nauvoo Pageant. I highly recommend this historic drama to anyone who has a chance to visit Nauvoo. This pageant truly captures the Spirit of Nauvoo, and it reminds us of the sacrifices endured by those who bravely stood for righteousness and truth.



Following the rehearsal, we journeyed up to the temple grounds where we had a spectacular view of the fireworks display that was launched over the Mississippi River.



The 4th of July has always been one of my favorite holidays. My maternal grandfather was born on July 4th, and at an early age, I remember this day was a significant one in our family. Memories of family gatherings, picnics, parades, and beautiful fireworks hold a special place in my heart. I would have to say that the celebration we enjoyed last year was just as marvelous, filled with a tender poignancy as we sat in front of a sacred temple, watching a tribute of fireworks that signified the birth of this nation.

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