The fog settled over the immigrant ship American Congress off the shores of Newfoundland. The sun did not shine, nor provide navigational reference for the crew. James Keep and his wife Ann, three daughters, and one grand-baby were sailing for Zion with 350 Saints. While on deck, James looked forward for a time, then aft, reflecting on the hopeful journey yet ahead, and then on his life back in England. He was five years old when his father died, was raised a few more years by family members, but mostly, with little schooling, made his own way keeping sheep, cows, horses, or any work he could find. The heavy fog bore down a second day on the ship. James thought back on his apprenticeship as a brick layer and his nine years with his first wife Elizabeth. Sometime after her death, James married Ann Miller, and he began to seek religion. He attended the Wesleyan’s, and later the Baptist’s, and then the Independent’s, each for a number of years, but still felt alone. “I could never tell what the Kingdom of God was,” he wrote. The thick fog prevailed a third day; their location and direction, unknown. James recalled the two young men who brought the restored gospel to his home. Encouraged by his wife, he listened. “I never knew what God was until I came into this church.” He and his family were baptized and accepted callings. He traveled extensively to preach the gospel for twenty years. Now at age 60, on a ship in the Atlantic, Johns faith in God’s promises held strong. “Captain,” a man yelled, “what is that?” The man on the quarter deck pointed anxiously forward. The fog [had] lifted from the surface of the sea, as if a veil or scroll had been raised. The tall powerful captain looked, then sprang to the wheelhouse like a tiger, knocked the helmsman down, grabbed the wheel, and with full presence of mind and moment, turned it about. Sailors sprang to their posts at his commands, as the ship swayed and turned avoiding rocks, breakers, and a watery grave. Many thanks were given to God for lifting the fog, and protecting the saints.
(by Kenneth R. Hardman, based on accounts in Hardman Biographies – Ancestors of Sidney Glenn Hardman and Dorothy Mae Griffin, personal writings of James Joseph Keep, writings of Sarah Keep Buttars, and account Saved by Providence by J. Nicholson) #AncestorClips
Glenn performed his military duties and was absolutely determined to be an example and a Christian. He never served as a formal missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but he took every opportunity to act like one. “There is a fellow in the company that is a member of the church, but not very active. He has promised me that he will go to church, but as yet, he hasn’t. He got quite drunk and started to lose his money, so what does old dad do? I stepped in. He was gambling, so I took his money and his wallet away from him, and… finally got him in bed, but he wouldn’t stay there, so we took him down and put him in the ice-cold shower. Believe me, that really straightened him out in a hurry. I hate to get mixed up with anything like that, but we do have to take care of our brothers, don’t we?” While in the service, he held a number of things close to his heart including letters from home, church magazines, a portrait of Dorothy, and a little photo of his parents and sister. To his wife back home he spoke of blessings on Earth and in Heaven, “If we only live our religion as we have been taught, we shall have these things and also reach eternal life…It will really be a wonderful day when we can both stand together and thank our Father in Heaven for all His blessings.” This is who they were and who they are. This is who I want to be.
Glenn Hardman and Dorothy Griffin; did they become good independent of outside factors? Certainly, not. Did any of this goodness come from their parents and ancestry? Certainly, yes. Dorothy spoke of her childhood. “I am truly grateful that my parents were always active and that they taught us by their example that church was the place we were to go, that activity in the church would bring joy and satisfaction to our lives. Though I have no memory of a burning testimony in those days, I know the seeds were planted then for my love of the church as I have grown older.” Similarly, Dorothy wrote of Glenn, “He went to Primary and learned about courage and being pure in heart, to be a cheerful helper to his father and mother every day, to say thank you, to obey, to be courteous at home, school and Primary, to pray and to appreciate the beautiful world.” As Glenn and Dorothy continued to grow in their youth, they made choices that brought them in contact with additional sources of help and divine instruction. While a young adult, Dorothy received an assignment she thought miraculous that gave her opportunity to serve in new ways, making her realize the source of her talents, and how she could use them for much good. “I began to see,” she wrote, “what the patriarch had meant when he told me I had talents that would manifest themselves in the positions of responsibility which I would have…” Glenn demonstrated his integrity when on his own in California, surrounded by a world of opportunities for good and bad. In a letter to his parents back home, some trusted friends wrote, “He never misses a day without coming in and reporting in. He is only going with church boys and girls and taking in the church activities. Dorothy Griffin, the girl he takes most, is a swell Mormon girl.” I can see how my life was and is influenced by their lives… I can see their influence in my life, in the lives of all their children, and their grandchildren and their great-grandchildren.
As the smoke of the industrial revolution continuously settled on residents of Manchester England, in 1834, death persistently came to rest on the small home of Margaret and Richard Hardman. Likely with broken heart wondering if she would ever have children, she laid her fifth lifeless baby to rest in an early tiny grave. Margaret was a weaver, Richard was a rope-maker, but another 9 hopeful months passed with no daughters for mom to dress, and no sons to enter dad’s trade. With prayer, work, endurance, and love, another 10 years passed and 6 more pregnancies. Three would die, but three lived on; Alice Eliza, Lehi Nephi, and George Richard. Alice received the middle name of her grandmother, Elizabeth; George bore the middle name of his father, Richard; and Lehi Nephi carried the names given him by a prophet a year before he was born. Poor health restored under Priesthood hands by the Gospel of the Restoration, Margaret and Richard carried on, gathered with the Latter-day Saints, moved from their home with many of their family, ever onward, following the prophets from Manchester to Nauvoo. Living only blocks from the Nauvoo temple, they built Nauvoo, the Temple, and their posterity. After their eternal marriage and sealing in the Temple of God, Margaret lost Richard, missing on the Mississippi while working and escorting family members to Zion. Widowed, cast out through trails of sorrow, Illinois, Missouri, Iowa, Nebraska, and the loss of her second husband William Presley to cholera, she pressed onward, eventually to a place where her children including Jane Amanda Presley met their companions, raised righteous families, and gave Margaret posterity beyond all that she could have imagined. We too, can press onward, ever onward. #AncestorClips
Halvor Halvorsen was a ship captain sailing in and out of the fjords, up and down the beautiful Norway western seaboard. [His wife and children lived in the north in Namsos] As his family grew [to 8 children], he longed to be with them, acquired a telegraph station in northern Norway, where he could work on land, and have his family with him, but he took seriously ill in the north, and died. Before his death, in a touching letter to his family he wrote his memories about his parents and siblings, and then these heart felt words to his children.
In 1847, on the north shore of Zealand, as Danish citizens fought for “freedom of press, and religion,”1 fourteen-year old Hans Sorensen finished school and entered apprenticeship. That same year his mother and grandmother died. In 1849 the monarch gave in and the people won their desired freedoms.2 With a feeling of opportunity, Hans studied with a demanding shoemaker, and using local materials he became skilled at constructing shoes and saddles with maple pegs and strong flax thread.1 He was among the “industrious, peaceable, and skillful,”3 of his people. At age 20 his brother and father died4 but he continued his trade and service to his community. Nine years later, he married Maren Kristine Hansdatter also of his Parish and opened a shoe-shop in the nearby town of Tisvilde.1 The 1864 conflict with Prussia and Austria pulled him away from his work and bride as he was drafted in the 2nd battle of Schleswig-Holstein.1 He survived the painful war but Denmark lost significant portions of the country.2 Religious freedom was crossing the country as were the Mormon missionaries. As predicted by a Latter-day Saint leader, the war served to, “awaken the indifferent and the careless to a sense of their situation, and thus [brought] many into the Church…”3 Hans attended a Latter-day Saint meeting, “was impressed with their message… investigated…the doctrine, and was satisfied he had found the Pearl of Great Price.”1 #Ancestorclips
Andrew Peterson was surely heartbroken when his sister Johanna was thrown from a buggy, her dress caught in the wheel, and dragged to death. A heckling mob had frightened the horse, persecutors of the Denmark Mormons. Instead of giving up, the spirit of truth urged Andrew on, he taught the Gospel for a number of years. Then in faith he accepted a mission call to his home country of Sweden where he met and taught widow Greta Pherson and her daughter Anna Maria. Like Andrew, Anna Maria felt the truth, embraced the covenant of baptism and joined Andrew and his family for immigration to America following his release. They travelled from Copenhagen to the major seaport Hamburg and boarded the ship Athena with the saints. Before heading to the North Sea on the river Elbe, the captain needed more room for passengers. He learned that there were six couples engaged to be married. Calling them together he told them he had the authority to marry them and if they would allow this he would have the cooks prepare wedding cakes for each couple and all they could hope for in a wedding dinner. This way he would have six extra beds. Each couple chose to marry including Andrew and Anna Maria. They travelled by sea, rail, and wagon finally settling in Lehi Utah, true to their faith and advocates for Scandinavian saints that would follow.
Nine-year-old Edna ran through the orchard with her straight brown hair flapping in the summer air. “Hey Myrtle!” She called back to her ten-year-old sister. “Watch this.” Edna jumped on to a pig, patted his side, and held on. “We’re supposed to be feeding them,” Myrtle pretended to object. “not riding them.” Myrtle looked back toward the house, then dropped her apple bag and with bouncing curls chased down another pig. Both girls laughed, squealed, and finally fell on the orchard grass, giggling, trying to keep their hair out of the rotting summer apples. ‘Emily Myrtle’ and ‘Edna’ Elton were the youngest of eight. The children were taught to be honest, to mind, and to respect and care for others. For chores they packed wood and coal, gathered grain, hauled hay, white-washed walls, pressed apples, thinned beets, and herded sheep. They found fun in many chores as they wove plant stems into chains, made up songs, played school, and ate lunch in the fields with dad. In the winter they rode sleigh, fashioned snowmen, and laid on their backs making snow fairies. Christmas gifts were few, but given with love, then cherished. On Sunday they had a bath in a number three metal tub and wore their treasured Summer dress to church. Forever young and beautiful on the outside, they were playful, loving, and devoted on the inside. Myrtle and Edna loved life, not wishing for things they didn’t have. Their simple dreams fed their imaginations and added spice to their lives and all who knew them.
On September 11, 1777, General Washington collided with the British here at Brandywine Creek, Pennsylvania; booming cannons echoed 25 miles east to Philadelphia. There were heavy American losses on the battlefield. John Coon Jr. was serving his apprenticeship nearby and heard the blasts, a penetrating sound for a 9 year old. ([1] Goble, pg. 120, ref 12). The very next spring, the British launched “a secret night assault [10 miles] to the north in Paoli.” Not yet aware of the attack, “John Coon roused himself from…his thick…German-feather comforter. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched to greet the dawn. Clad simply in a long nightshirt, he stepped…into his britches…, pausing only to splash water on his face and straighten his thick [untidy] hair… His thoughts were on his chores, [and] the few moments he could spend in his forested hideaway at Brandywine Creek catching fish for breakfast, and [then] his afternoon at the cooper shop…” (Goble, pg. 123) But, instead of a pleasant spring morning, the penetrating sounds of death again rolled like thick fog across the Great Valley. Word spread that 150 Colonials were found dead. As the wounded “were transported…along the road through Chester,” the neighborhood wept at the groans of the dying. As a young man John experienced these realities but continued industrious and of service to family and country in Pennsylvania, Virginia, Ohio, and Illinois. At age 16, after the death of his father, he returned home to Lancaster, “rented a barn, and freighted [for the local militia] until he married,” (Goble, pg. 124, 129) at age 30. He was becoming a “tower of strength and manhood” upon whom his present and future family could trust. (see Goble, pg. 130) Thank you, to those who served here, and thank you, to my 4th great-grandfather, John Andreas Coon Jr.
