Keeping Faith by Cindy Bradford (serial 47)
Chapter 17 Part III
Cindy Bradford
“Although I had studied about the Mormons, I certainly gained knowledge from Emily. When she picked me up she explained that she thought it important that I quickly see some of the landmarks of the Latter Day Saints and meet other Mormon women to gain their thoughts, insights and backgrounds. She had the next several days planned for the two of us. We headed straight to the Visitors’ Center at Temple Square, where the life-size murals depicting the story of the church were absolutely beautiful. They lined the walls of a spiral ramp. I wanted to spend more time looking at the art alone, but that first day was an overview, and I knew there would be time later for me to return.
“It was mid-afternoon when we left the Visitors’ Center. I don’t think Emily thought we would be there that long, but there was so much to see and a video on the history of the church. She knew everyone and seemed to enjoy talking with them and introducing me, explaining my photo mission.”
“Emily’s plans for the second day included a walk through ZCMI Mall, which by the way Patrick, is church owned. Actually the church owns a great deal.”
“That’s what I have heard. This is really interesting. Did Henry ever tell you why he chose these three particular religions?”
“I asked him that because I thought it was strange: Baptist, Catholic and Mormon. He said he wanted religions where it was tradition for the woman to be in the background, on the sidelines, in other words, in a submissive role. These religions, he figured, would never allow a woman to be a minister, deacon, etc.”
“Well, he chose well,” Patrick said, laughing.
“Yes, but in the settings where I found them, it didn’t matter. They were simply women serving God, and their role was not an issue. Gender was a moot point. And that is obvious in the story and the photographs. Henry wanted to include some Middle Eastern women but none responded to his inquiries.”
“Okay, that’s interesting. So keep going. I’m intrigued.”
“Remember, we started late because Emily wanted to take me to a special rehearsal of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir which didn’t start until 7:00 p.m. It would have been a really long day for her if we started early in the morning. Did I tell you she has five children?”
“No, but that would be a long day in and of itself!”
“Yes, I agree, but they were really nice kids, perfectly behaved. Her husband is a cardiac surgeon at the LDS Hospital so his schedule is extremely intense, and he’s not able to give her much help with the children. He does, however, set aside as much time as possible to be with each child during the week. She’s probably the only loser of his time, but she handles it well. Remember, it is part of her role.
“Anyway, after the mall, we went to Mormon Handicrafts. I’ve never seen so many beautiful fabrics. Emily wanted me to see the women quilting. It was fascinating. They do very nice work with tiny, tiny stitches. It appears to be a labor of love. Each quilt is sold and the money given to a worthwhile cause. I was very impressed because I saw it as their form of art. Then choir rehearsal was marvelous. The voices were mesmerizing, but more than that, you would not believe the acoustics in the tabernacle. You could, indeed, hear a pin drop. That’s not an exaggeration. I had read that but always thought it to be propaganda. It’s not.
“Every day we saw something new, something that was a part of Emily’s life and her religion. She invited me to one of the Relief Society meetings at her ward, but she’s actually the president over all the Mormon Relief Society groups in the world. In the last year, she has been to fifteen countries to train other women for the Relief Society. She does have help, two women they call counselors. You should see her office. It looks like a plush living room, overlooking Temple Square and the Joseph Smith Memorial Building.”
“What does a Relief Society do?”
“They have weekly meetings dedicated to the improvement of women. Meetings focus on such areas as the cultural arts, literacy, homemaking skills, spiritual development and so on–those kinds of things.
“Finally we took off and drove back to Emily’s childhood area. That was part of the deal with Henry. So for almost a week we looked back in her life. I know it was not easy for her. She said it was cathartic. I got some of my best pictures of her there against that sepia backdrop. That is when I really got the essence of the woman. What an abnormal childhood she had. Can you imagine having a father as a polygamist? She is really grounded, which to me is amazing. Although she says she harbors no real resentment against him and says she has forgiven him, she added that regrettably there is absolutely no love there either. By the way, he is still a polygamist. Her feelings for her mother are more mixed: sympathy, but a total lack of understanding of her mother. She told me she just could not fathom how a woman can do what she has done, but she said she guessed it was ignorance, or gullibility. Her mother was brought up by a polygamist also. It was a cyclical journey, one from which she could not break away. Emily said her mother was not strong enough or smart enough or perhaps she was just content. She never really knew.
“Emily’s life now is 180 degrees different from her childhood. Although there was very little contact with the outside world in the town where she lived as a child, she always thought something was wrong. When she gained an iota of a clue that life was a bit off center, she did everything to find out why. Fortunately a few books portraying different ways of life had somehow found their way to the local library without anyone’s suspicion, and Emily poured over them. She began asking a few questions to whomever she could. She was rebuked more than once, but she finally found a sensitive ear, an old, old, woman who worked at the local post office. Emily asked the right question one day and the old woman saw the look in her eye. She told her, ‘Child, it’s too late for me, but you are young and wise. Be here Thursday afternoon at four o’clock. Can you do that? Are you seriously prepared to leave, never to return?’ Emily told the old woman she was, and apparently the old woman read her well. Another woman, who had left ten years previously and whose mission was to rescue these girls did just that for Emily.”
“Now, Emily is deeply involved in genealogy. Of course, this is what that all Mormons are encouraged to do. The church has probably the best genealogy libraries in the world. Anyway, Emily believes this is especially important to her because of her past. She wants to trace her heritage, to maybe get a glimpse, of why her father was the way he was. She was quick to point out, however, that this would never be an excuse for him because every person is responsible for his or her own actions. She keeps a journal which is one of the church’s recommendations to its members so that her research and collected knowledge can be passed down to her children.
“Patrick, I’m talking way too much. You don’t want to hear about this in such detail. I’ll make the rest of this quick.”
“No, no. I am really enjoying this and learning a lot. Let’s stop though, get a cup of coffee and stretch.”
“That was nice,” Carol said after the two had taken a short break. “Now I can talk for two more hours,” she laughed.
“Good, this is making the trip go faster. Okay, what is next?”
“Remember I told you that each woman was interesting and I learned so much at all the places, but the convent had to be the most memorable, the most touching and the photographs almost a little haunting. The missionaries in Mexico were so generous and selfless and the people so sweet, but the language gap made it so much more difficult and I felt a lot was lost in translation. And of course the conditions were so bad. But all of the women were so strong. I realized I could never have their strength.”
“Sure you could, if you had to be or wanted to be.”
“No, if you had met those women, they would have made the same impression on you, but the one who made the deepest impression on me was at the cloistered Carmelite convent in Wisconsin.”
“Why?”