The Wishing Star (36 page)

“Thus saith the Lord,” Newel said softly, turning away.

Later that day, while Tom was sweating at the forge, Newel came in. “The Prophet has called a special meeting in the temple.”

Tom shoved the sheet metal back into the forge to heat. “What's goin' on?”

“The apostles and the seventy as well as the councils are going to be given the rites for the temple ceremonials.” He touched his forehead. “See you tonight. I've got to spread the word.”

That evening when Tom walked into the temple with the other men, he was struck by the quiet dignity of the place. The group assembled in the lower auditorium. Tom knew from his work on the building that the floor above them held another auditorium with the same unusual feature—twelve pulpits to accommodate the twelve apostles.

Walking to the front of the auditorium, Tom stood looking up at the window arching behind the pulpits constructed for the members of the Melchizedek priesthood. Above the window, stretching like a banner, were the words,
HOLINESS UNTO THE LORD
. Soberly Tom took his place. The words ushered him into a solemn mood that made it easy to enter into the service.

When Joseph walked into the auditorium carrying the bottle of oil, the men were hushed and waiting. The lanky, graying father of the Prophet was called forward, placed on a stool, and surrounded by elders. Joseph raised his right hand and bade the men do likewise.

After Joseph had blessed the oil and poured some upon the head of his father, he motioned his men to come together. Gathering as close as they could, the men in the center placed their hands upon the gray hair of the man before them.

In the candlelight Joseph's face became transfixed and pale. Looking upward, he softly intoned, “The heavens are open before me. I am seeing the celestial kingdom of God with all attending glory. Whether in the body or out, I do not know. I see glorious beauty . . .” His words moved on, sweeping around Tom. “The gate, like circling flames of fire, the blazing throne of God, and seated thereon, the Father and the Son.”

Each of the elders in turn took his place to receive his blessing. With a shout, one lifted his arms and exclaimed, “I see the heavens opening before me!” Later another acknowledged, “The angels are ministering to us.”

On successive nights the rest of the elders received their blessings. In culmination, Joseph sealed all of the blessings, instructing the men in this final ceremony that all which had transpired had been sealed in heaven.

At home Andy Morgan talked about these events. “He called this the patriarchal blessings,” Andy said. “These days have yielded wonderful visions and promises given to the men called out to do the work of the Lord. Some of the patriarchal blessings were particularly noteworthy.” He was silent for a moment and Jenny continued her work about the kitchen.

While Morgan talked about the meeting, a troubled frown kept appearing on his face. Now, as if suddenly recalling that he had stopped mid-tale, he raised his head and continued. “When James Brewster was receiving his blessing, it was revealed that he was to be a prophet, seer, revelator and translator. Power is to be given from God to enable him to discover and obtain treasures that are hidden in the earth.” Jenny dropped the pan she was wiping and Andy jerked upright in his chair. “What's—”

“Oh, nothing,” she broke in hastily. Biting her lip, she added, “But I understood that treasure digging was all in the past, that it was to be forgotten now.”

Andy shook his head slowly. “I'd heard that too,” Andy agreed. “I can't understand. But then, who knows the mind of the Lord except the Prophet?” He sighed and continued. “There was another one that was truly amazing. Joseph's father gave this blessing. He told a youth that before he reaches the age of twenty-one, he will preach the gospel to the inhabitants of the islands of the sea and even to the inhabitants of the moon.”

Finally, hands on hips, Jenny demanded, “You're telling of the most wonderful things. Yet at the same time I see you frowning over it all. Why?”

He stared at her in astonishment. Slowly he said, “I can't forget the beginning days of the Mormons in Kirtland. You see, Jenny, I was one of Rigdon's original followers. At the time it rubbed us wrong to have this young man, Joseph Smith, claiming to be a prophet from the Lord, spouting the language of an uncouth farm boy while he was telling our silver-tongued Rigdon what to do. One of the first things he undertook was to call all the spirit outpouring the devil's work and demand that we forget it all.” He stopped suddenly and flushed.

Jenny nodded, “And now the same thing is going on in the temple. The town's rocking with it. No wonder you frown.”

His face cleared, and with a relieved smile he said, “I don't mean to complain; it's just a hard thing to swallow. Jenny, I do believe he's a prophet from the Lord; don't doubt my loyalty. Any common plowboy who can convince this lawyer he's from God, well—it's truth.”

Sally had been nodding her head at every word her husband spoke. But Jenny was surprised at the wistful note in her voice as she added, “It is true, he is a prophet from God, and we must believe everything he says or we'll be damned for all eternity. It is impossible to reject truth and still make it to heaven.”

****

The dedication took place on March 27, 1836. As Jenny walked through the streets of Kirtland to the temple, she was still mulling over Sally Morgan's statement. There had been something strange about her declaration, something that had tugged at Jenny and left her feeling uneasy. How deeply Sally feared for her soul's salvation!

Although Jenny had purposely left the Morgan home early in order to have a choice seat, the streets were already filled with people heading toward the temple. As she quickened her steps, the air of excitement engulfing the people grabbed her, too.

A reverent hush touched all who entered the auditorium. She recognized it as she took her seat beside her fellow worshipers.

Later, Joseph Smith, with the presidency and the twelve, filed into the building. How solemn their faces were! Their expressions reflected the awe she was feeling. The songs they sang, the music they heard seemed to echo about as if wafted on angels' wings. Later in the muted silence, even the smallest infant was quiet.

When the Prophet stood to speak, Jenny studied his broad, tall figure suitably clothed in black. The black heightened the pallor of his face as he shook back his bright hair and lifted his face heavenward. The words of his prayer fell like jewels on his eager followers.

Jenny forgot to bow her head. Caught by the mysterious air that filled the temple, she was momentarily transfixed. But suddenly her mood was shattered by a clear memory of the last time she had been with Joseph. He had been in shirtsleeves, with his collar loosened, kissing her freely, even passionately.

Jenny's eyes drifted toward the corner where she knew Emma was sitting with her children. The dark head was modestly bent. Jenny wondered at the astonishment and uneasiness that suddenly possessed her. Restlessly she moved, gripped by emotion. Was it because she was in the temple and under the mysterious influence called God? She studied the solemn face of the prophet and suddenly laughter formed deep within her.
If I am uneasy
, she thought,
what must HE feel?

When Jenny walked home, the conversation around her reflected the grandeur and awe. A thousand believers had crowded the temple auditorium, and another thousand had lingered outside. But there was one note of disappointment. As old Mrs. Bolton said, “We didn't hear none of those grand things like those who got their patriarchal blessings saw and heard. I'm right disappointed about that. And seems on this day they'd let the womenfolk worship in there with the men come evening.”

She paused for a moment and then added. “Those that got their blessings said that in the midst of the Prophet's praying, he stopped death-still and the men saw a white dove fly through the window and light on the Prophet's shoulder. He told them later it was the Holy Spirit.”

That dedication evening the men began two days and two nights of worshiping and fasting in the temple. The women grumbled, but their curiosity remained unsatisfied except for occasional reports drifting out to them. The first report told of the Savior appearing to some, while others said angels ministered to them.

According to Tom, the Prophet had urged the men to prophesy, saying that the first to open his mouth would receive the gift of prophecy, and that whatsoever he prophesied would come to pass. At one point a sound like a rushing mighty wind filled the temple, and men jumped to their feet, speaking in tongues and seeing visions. As the stories spread, townspeople rushed to the temple to stand outside and stare in awe at the bright light coming from within. Angels had filled the temple, Joseph reported.

The final hours were recounted by Andy Morgan. Joseph and Oliver Cowdery climbed into their pulpits and lowered the canvas veils around them. He and his friends, Morgan said, had sat in the audience, hardly daring to breathe in the silence.

When the curtains were rolled back, the watching men gasped. Deathly pale, Oliver sat looking heavenward. Joseph stood to his feet and, lifting his arm heavenward, declared softly, “We have seen the Lord. He stood on the breastwork of the pulpit before us. Underneath His feet lay a path of pure gold, and His entire countenance gleamed. His message was that our sins are forgiven us. We are to lift up our heads and rejoice because the Lord has accepted this house and His name shall be here. Then Moses appeared and he committed to us the keys for the gathering up of the children of Israel from the farthest parts of the earth, beginning with the tribes in the northernmost regions of the world, the Eskimos.

“Then Elias and Elijah told us that we have the keys for this dispensation committed to us. By this we are to know that the Great Day of the Lord is close at hand.”

“Oh my!” Sally gasped on hearing the report. Relief flooded her face with color and brightness, and she touched a finger to the corner of her eye. Reports continued to circulate and magnify. Jenny was aware that she was not untouched by it all, but Sally's later question made her face the issue squarely.

Jenny and Sally were working in the spring-warmed garden, and Jenny was particularly aware of the texture and odor of the soil. Sally broke the calm, “Jen, not once have you commented on the dedication of the temple. I know you have a seeking mind. What did you think of it all? Do you believe it was a manifestation of God?”

In the moment of waiting, Jenny realized that this was the question that had burdened her since the event. Examining the evidence, she realized there was only one answer. Rocking back on her heels, she looked up at Sally. “Of course. How could I possibly think otherwise?” But the answer left her feeling empty.

During the following two months, Jenny was surprised to find that no one in Kirtland needed her services as a nurse. Sally advised her to not fret about it; possibly the Lord realized she needed a rest and was keeping the Saints well. Then with a stern eye lifted from her sewing she said, “I'd spend the time reading up in those books you told the Prophet you must read before joining the church. Jenny, I must warn you; the Lord won't be patient forever—especially since you have the witness.”

Thus on a bright day in May, Jenny tucked the
Book of Mormon
and the
Book of Commandments
under her arm and set out for the woods. She carried several small muslin bags in the pocket of her apron, knowing she would spend most of the time enjoying the sunshine and searching for those special plants to dry and grind into powder for potions.

With her nose bent earthward, muttering the names of the plants she should seek, Jenny was mostly oblivious to the day and the beauty that surrounded her.

Her restless feet roamed back and forth across the trail which cut through the woods. The various paths joined the settled areas around Kirtland.

“Salsify, cinquefoil, bluebonnet, vitch,” she was murmuring when a voice broke in upon her reverie.

“It's Jenny. I do declare.” Jenny heard the melodious voice and raised her head to blink into the shadows, searching for the speaker. “From the looks of things I do believe you are searching for the secret ingredients. That means only one thing.”

Jenny gasped. “Adela! It has been years since I've seen you, but I'd know you anywhere. You haven't changed.”

“You've grown,” the silky voice continued. Jenny sat down on the log beside the woman and studied her carefully. From the glossy hair streaming down her back to the smooth ivory of her skin, she was indeed, the same. But there was one difference: Adela was now wearing the modest dress and apron of a common housewife.

“You aren't wearing your beautiful red chiffon!” Jenny exclaimed. “What a disappointment!”

“You nearly surprised me once in my red chiffon.”

Jenny studied the woman, “So that
was
you. I dared not hope. I tried to hail you.” Jenny was silent a moment thinking of the cloaked woman coming out of Joseph's office.

Adela folded her arms. “So you weren't ready for the sabbat. You ran like a silly baby, leaving us all to think you a waste. You nearly ruined the whole evening. Only after a great deal of effort were we able to salvage the ceremony. We had to coax before the spirits would come back.”

Speaking as if in a dream, Jenny murmured, “The townsmen were angry the next day when they found what you had done to the church.”

“But you didn't tell.” Adela was whispering, leaning close to scrutinize Jenny's face. Jenny was certain she read her inmost secrets, but perhaps Adela had known them all along.

“For a while I was afraid we had lost you to Mark. Jenny, you will be successful, and you can have anything or anyone except Mark. If you are determined to follow through now, determined to work for the power, I will help you. This time you must not fail. They will not take lightly any more of your broken promises. Do you have any idea what angry spirits do to faithless followers?”