My talk on Mother's Day

Given in Sacrament Meeting:

Women of strength

My topic today is the Strength of Womanhood. Strength can be measured in many ways. Being a man, I am most familiar with those that involve challenges such as (flex my arm) or seeing who can climb to the top of a 40 foot rope and be the first to ring the bell. And yes, there was a day… But if we examine the essence, the true core of strength, we find that it is often expressed in other ways than brute force.
A week ago, Saturday, Bro. White called me. His cell phone connection was so bad I could barely make out what he was saying, which distracted me a lot and by the time I figured out he was calling to ask me to speak today it was too late to dream up a good excuse. However, he made up for it during Fast Meeting by sharing with us his adventures in beekeeping. I, too, worked for a beekeeper as a teenager. I remember it as being hot, dirty, sticky, often painful work. There is something about it, though, which is why I still meddle with honeybees. It is a fascinating hobby which is made even better by the fact that most people are not willing to accept the heat, dirt, stickiness and occasional painful sting. There are many examples of people who are presented with difficult tasks, but having triumphed, find that they are most proud of having met their challenge. In many ways, Mormon people are like that. I have heard non-LDS folks say how unfair it is that a religion should ask its people to pay tithing, fast offerings, building funds, education funds, missionary funds, and so on. Or to abstain from the simple pleasures of hot or strong drinks. Or to give so much of their time. And yet we find that having done these things, we feel a great sense of accomplishment. We feel tighter bonds with our fellows. We feel the veil getting thinner as we receive affirmations of being on the correct path. We feel joy in the strength we’ve found alongside the spirit.
I’d like to share some examples of women in my family who found great strength through their trials. It is not that we are likely to face those same trials or meet similar challenges, but we can sometimes find inspiration to build our own strength when we contemplate the strength of others.
My grandmother’s grandmother was one of these inspirations. “Haddy” Ashby (her full name was Harriet Maria Ashby) was born shortly after the church was organized and was a member of it all her life. Her family moved to Nauvoo in 1843 when she was 10 years old. When she was 13 they were forced to leave Nauvoo, crossing the Mississippi River when it was frozen over, and as they crossed the prairie and with her parents of failing health, she assumed the duty of caring for her brother who was 6 months old. She later said that by assuming care for her infant brother she was a mother starting when she was 13 years old. During those difficult years when church members were moving slowly towards Utah, her father died and a young man was assigned to help care for her family, a responsibility he took very seriously. His name was Briant Stringham and he married Haddy’s older sister, Susan, shortly after they arrived in Salt Lake.
When Haddy was 16, her mother died. Her mother entrusted her young children to Briant to raise as his own, but Haddie was given care for her sister Louisa, who was 18 months old. Briant suggested that she come live with them so she could attend school, and that’s why she came to live with her married sister.
Imagine the kind of life she led, having spent many of her teenage years caring for her siblings, not just babysitting, but as the primary caregiver. What kind of a social life could she have had, saddled with children? Did she ever think to rebel? Did she try to find somebody else to take over? Did she ever think about just running away? I am sure she had those kinds of thoughts, but she did not act on them It takes a particular strength to shoulder that kind of load and carry on with living. Haddie accepted her lot in life and made the most of it. People who knew her describe her long life of service for her siblings, her children and their posterity. She was an inspiration and a guide for righteousness as she sacrificed Worldly pleasures for the principles of her espoused faith – she always held fast to the teachings of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and her influence was still evident in my own grandmother who had many of these same qualities. Love, patience, unflagging support for her family and dedication to her faith.
Now for the fun part of her life. During the 1849 California Gold Rush, Haddy and her sister, Susan made straw hats which they sold to the miners for $1.00 each, and she continued to live in Susan and Briant’s house during this time. The sisters were very close, although their friendship was about to be strained. I am going to read her own account of what happened next.
“When I was eighteen years old Briant began paying attention to me. One night when we had been out walking, as I came into the house, Susan said, “Had! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” I said, “Yes, I am, and I will never do it again.” I felt so sorry for Susan that I took Louisa and went to sew for Sister Gray. There I stayed three weeks, I was determined I would not have Briant talking to me any more, but every night I would look over the fence to see if he was coming. He finally did come and after a time and arranging matters satisfactorily with Susan, we were married.
My first child and Susan’s second, Briant Jr., were nursing babies at the same time. Little Briant became very ill so that his life was despaired of, seemingly from lack of nourishment. His father would bring him to me to share the nourishment I was able to supply my baby, and with what I could give and his mother could furnish, baby Briant soon got fat.”

Since this is a moderately shocking tale, I should add that Briant Stringham built a house for each of his wives and was a devoted father to all his children. Sadly, he died at the age of 47, leaving his widows with young children. Personally I am very glad those days when polygamy was legal and accepted are long gone. As I said before, Haddy’s life was devoted to children and church. When I think of her, I think of her as a Woman of Great Strength, and of her sister as a woman of Extraordinary strength.

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It is an interesting historical fact that in those days, and really until the mid 20th Century, the #1 cause of death for women was childbirth. For men, it was infection, often from small wounds as simple as wood slivers in hands or feet. We enjoy some immunity from those things, now, but they lurk in the very near background. We recently had a scare of a pandemic (a World-wide infestation) with the H1N1 influenza. The last serious pandemic of flu was in 1918, during WW1. In fact, more soldiers died of influenza in 1918 than died in battle. In late 1918, when the flu pandemic reached the little town of Fillmore, Utah where my grandparents lived, my grandmother Hattie, was pregnant. So she was facing the double peril of both infection and childbirth. The decision she made was only reached after much prayer and soul searching.
Imagine how we would have felt if the recent flu had been as bad as was initially feared. In 1918 people were dying in droves. People would feel fine in the morning - by evening they would be so sick they would be helpless - and by morning they would be gone. It was a terrible time and Grandma was terrified, both of the flu itself, and at the thought of loosing her unborn baby.
When grandma heard about the first influenza cases in Fillmore, she resolved to lock herself in her house until her baby was born and healthy, and she did just that. It was not an easy thing to do. She had two unusually rambunctious boys, 2 and 4 years old, who were nearly impossible to contain and even more impossible to live with in a small house (It was two stories, but only about 1700 sq. ft.). She had to miss church meetings, which were her primary social outlet. She couldn’t fulfill her church callings and accepted her visiting teachers by inviting them to pull chairs up to the closed door on the front porch and talk to her through the glass. Grandpa tended to his farm and livestock, but he, too, tried to minimize contact with other people. He was able to give Grandma some relief by taking the boys with him to the farm, but as winter came he too had to stay at the house. Fortunately, their little house had that new-fangled luxury of piped in water. Food, however, was another story. To isolate themselves, they had to rely mostly on what they had in the house and garden, forgoing trips to the grocery store. As you might expect, their neighbors, all members of their ward, pitched in with meals as they could, passing them through a briefly opened door. That was a blessing, but not a total solution as the resources of all the people were stretched very thin. Fortunately, my grandparents were keen gardeners and their pantry was stocked with home-canned fruits and vegetables. Their experience that winter served to reinforce their dedication to home storage and they continued to grow and bottle their produce long past the time when they could easily afford factory-canned goods.
All this time, there was intense social pressure to leave the house. I think the hardest thing for my Grandmother was staying there protecting her babies, while other people needed help. She had to focus on her own children at the expense of fulfilling other duties, including tending for and otherwise supporting the many sick people in town. That was a hard choice, and she never afterwards stinted when providing help to other people. She served many years as the Relief Society President and fulfilled innumerable service projects.
My grandmother was successful in avoiding the 1918 flu, and I am very happy to report that her baby was born in the spring, a healthy, happy little girl – my mother. My Grandparents’ family was one of the very few in Fillmore who did not loose anybody to the dread disease. You can walk through the cemetery there and find many, many gravestones with a death date in the dread winter of 1918-1919.
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There is a common thread to the strength of the people whose stories I’ve shared. I wish to finish by quoting the 14th Chapter of John.

26 But the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you.
27 Peace I leave with you,
my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you.
Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.