Pioneers in my family

(Malmo, Sweden)

On this 24th of July I remember the many pioneers in my family. On one side a family came, sending one son ahead while the rest of the family followed, only to lose their mother and several children along the way. They came because of their great belief in the LDS church.

I would like to tell of the other side of my family who came a little later but who had many hardships, but remained equally steadfast because of their beliefs. My great grandmother Tilda was born in Malmo, Sweden in 1867. She married Anders Peter when she was just 18 and the following year had a beautiful baby boy. He was only 2 when he died, but she wrote that that great sorrow brought a great blessing to their lives. During that time the missionaries came to them with a message that gave them hope that they would see their little Theodore again and in 1886 the ice was cut in the river and Tilda and Anders were baptized. She was ridiculed by her family and her mother crossed the street so as not to speak to her. Tilda prayed for their hearts to soften and in time her mother, sister and her family were baptized and remained true all of their lives. The little family moved from their home in Sweden to Salt Lake City, Utah to join the Saints there. It was difficult to leave family and the trip to America was a real struggle. The first days in the new land were very trying and many times Tilda almost lost her courage and was tempted to go back to Sweden, but her testimony sustained her as she learned the langauge and the ways of this new land. They now had a son and a new baby girl (who was my grandmother). Another son came to them and became ill and died and then again another son who was healthy. One day grama Tilda was busy in the kitchen when a never to be forgotten accident occured. A wooden tub kept outside by the water pump had just a very small amount of water in the bottom of it to keep it from drying out. Tilda had just checked the baby when she heard a terrible scream. A neighbor had come to get water and there she found the baby, Henry, face down in this little water in the tub. He had strangled and died instantly. Tilda writes: "The sorrow was almost more than I could bare. Everyone did all they could for me, but I failed to be comforted. Baby Henry did not have a wet spot on him. His little life was just snuffed out so quickly. Oh, the shock was terrible. He was just a little over a year old. Our oldest son, George, was then about 7 years old. He came to me in my sorrow and tried to comfort me. I was so bereaved I scarsly knew what I said. I answered him, "oh, you will probably die too, I guess." Instead of turning from me he looked up at me and said, "No, momma, I'm not going to die, I will grow up and go on a mission and you will be glad." It seemed like there was magic when our eyes met--as he said this to me something in my soul awakened. The faith my little son showed at this time acted as tonic from heaven to me. My faith was made strong and I was again able to walk through this garden of Gethsemane. His prophecy was fulfilled. He did grow up and filled an honorable mission and I was glad. My prayer from that day on was that I would prove to be worthy to meet my babies Theodore, Joseph and Henry again. I always gave thanks to Heavenly Father that He allowed me to keep my son, George, and my daughter, Agnes, who lived to raise 7 children each. I have had much joy from these grandchildren."

I have been told that this woman was a lovely lady who had much joy in life, even though she had to overcome many things, including a husband who left her. She always stayed true and strong and cheerful and her love was felt by her daughter who in turn gave that love, to her own children along with the teachings of the gospel. My mother was the recipient of those teachings and passed this rich heritage along to me. How grateful I am for such a wonderful family.