" . . . those five weeks . . . I was a prisoner with my wounded boy in Missouri, near the scene of the massacre, unable to obey the order of extermination [for Mormons to leave the state or be killed]. In our utter desolation, what could we women do but pray? Prayer was our only source of comfort, our Heavenly Father our only helper. None but He could save and deliver us.
"One day a mobber came from the mill with the captain's order, 'The captain says if you women don't stop your d—d praying he will send down a posse and kill every d—d one of you.' And he might as well have done it, as to stop us poor women from praying in that hour of our great calamity. Our prayers were hushed in terror. We dared not let our voices be heard in the house in supplication. I could pray in my bed or in silence, but I could not live thus long. This silence was more intolerable than had been that night of the massacre.
I could bear it no longer. I pined to hear once more my own voice in petition to my Heavenly Father. I stole down into a cornfield and crawled into a 'stout of corn'. It was as the temple of the Lord to me at that moment. I prayed aloud and most fervently.
When I emerged from the corn a voice spoke to me. It was a voice as plain as I ever heard one. It was no silent, strong impression of the spirit, but a voice,
repeating a verse of the saint's hymn: That soul who on Jesus hath leaned for repose, I cannot, I will not desert to its foes; That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake, I'll never, no never, no never forsake! (See Hymn 85, How Firm a Foundation, "Hymns", published by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 1985)
"From that moment I had no more fear. I felt that nothing could hurt me. Soon after this the mob sent us word that unless we were all out of that state by a certain day we should be killed.
The day came, and at the evening came fifty armed men to execute the sentence. I met them at the door. They demanded of me why I was not gone? I bade them enter and see their own work. They crowded into my room and I showed them my wounded boy. They came, party after party until all had seen my excuse. Then they quarreled among themselves and came near fighting.
At last they went away, all but two. These I thought were detailed to kill us. Then they returned. “Madame,” said one, “have you any meat in the house?” “No” was my reply. “Could you dress a fat hog if one was laid at your door?” “I think I could!” Was my answer. And then they went and caught a fat hog from the heard which had belonged to a now exiled brother, killed it and dragged it to my doors and departed.
These men, who had come to murder us, left on the threshold of our door a meat offering to atone for their repented intention.
Confidence of Amanda
With the “Extermination Oder” weighing on Amanda and her family they needed to leave as soon as possible. When her son was better they prepared to leave but the Missouri Mob had stolen her horses, cattle, wagon and tents.
Amanda walked ten miles to Daviess County to the home of the captain of the mob and demanded that he return her horses. He refused. But Amanda kept her faith, leaned on her Heavenly Father and knew she would be okay.
Here are her own words:
"I left without the captain's permission to take my horse . . . I went into his yard and took it . . . I next yoked up a pair of steers to a sled and went and demanded it also. . . . I started the first of February for the State of Illinois without money – mobbed all the way – I drove my own team and slept out of doors. I had four small children and we suffered much with hunger, cold and fatigue. For what? For our religion, where in the bossed land of liberty, ‘deny your faith or die' was the cry. "I felt the loss of my husband, but not as I should if he had apostatized; he died in the faith and in hopes of a glorious resurrection. As for myself, I felt an unshaken confidence in God through it all. I had been personally acquainted with the prophet Joseph for many years; had seen his walks and knew him to be a Prophet of God. That buoyed me up under every trial and privation."
More Blog Posts:
“The Witness of Women, firsthand experiences and testimonies from the restoration” by Janice Johnson and Jennifer Reeder