We attended Sacrament Meeting on Sunday while we were in Kansas City. I love, love, love attending church while on vacation. I love knowing the doctrine is the same where ever we go. I love hearing talks and testimonies from people I don't know. Members often assume we are a new family moving into the ward. They are kind and welcoming. I always ask how many kids are in their Primary. (We have 210 children in ours so I like to compare.) In this particular meeting, we learned that we should delight in fatness (See
Isaiah 55:2). Spiritual fatness that is. Our family found this quite amusing. It will always be a good memory for our family.
After church we had a picnic in our hotel room then headed to Farr West, a settlement for the early members of the church. It was supposed to be a place of refuge after the mobs drove them from Independence. It was here that Joseph Smith dedicated a piece of land for a temple. The cornerstones were laid at that time and the Mormons were soon driven completely from the state of Missouri. The temple was never built. The cornerstones remain to this day.
Besides the cornerstones, all that is in the area of what would be the temple is a granite monument.
I don't know how to describe how I felt at this site. Simply said, I knew we were standing on sacred ground. The thought of the early church leaders that stood on this same ground was incredible.
There was close to 8,000 Mormons driven from this area in 1838. Interestingly enough, there is very little here that remains here today. Just a few houses. It is very quiet. This place was once the headquarters of the church and the center of activity for the members, now it is tranquil farmland.
I couldn't help but think about those early pioneers as they were forced from their homes in Farr West in the dead of winter. In the church manual,
Our Heritage, it tells of the John Hammer family that was one of the many families who sought refuge. John recalled the difficult conditions: “Well do I remember the sufferings and cruelties of those days. … Our family had one wagon, and one blind horse was all we possessed towards a team, and that one blind horse had to transport our effects to the State of Illinois. We traded our wagon with a brother who had two horses, for a light one horse wagon, this accommodating both parties. Into this small wagon we placed our clothes, bedding, some corn meal and what scanty provisions we could muster, and started out into the cold and frost to travel on foot, to eat and sleep by the wayside with the canopy of heaven for a covering. But the biting frosts of those nights and the piercing winds were less barbarous and pitiful than the demons in human form before whose fury we fled. … Our family, as well as many others, were almost bare-footed, and some had to wrap their feet in cloths in order to keep them from freezing and protect them from the sharp points of the frozen ground. This, at best, was very imperfect protection, and often the blood from our feet marked the frozen earth. My mother and sister were the only members of our family who had shoes, and these became worn out and almost useless before we reached the then hospitable shores of Illinois.”
I am grateful for my heritage in the church. I am grateful for the example of those before me that endured impossible things and yet refused to lose faith in Jesus Christ. I am grateful to be reminded what it means to stand on sacred ground.
