I was asked to participate in a dramatization of women in the LDS church who were examples of different aspects or roles women have. The sister I portrayed was Amanda Barnes Smith.
She was a survivor of the Haun's Mill Massacre in Missouri and was blessed by her faith in the Lord to do what was needed to help her son heal from an awful wound.
To quote Amanda:
. . . .When the firing had ceased I went back to the scene of the massacre, for there were my husband and three sons, of whose fate I as yet knew nothing . . . . Emerging from the blacksmith shop was my eldest son, Willard, bearing on his shoulders his little brother Alma. “Oh! my Alma is dead!” I cried.
“No, mother;” he answered, “I think Alma is not dead. But father and brother Sardius are killed!”
My husband and son murdered; another little son seemingly mortally wounded; and perhaps before the dreadful night should pass the murderers would return. But I could not weep then; all my mother’s sense was absorbed in anxiety for my precious boy whom God alone could save by his miraculous aid.
It was night now. We laid little Alma on a bed in our tent and I examined the wound. His entire hip joint had been shot away by the muzzle of a gun, which a ruffian had placed to his hip through the logs of the blacksmith shop and deliberately fired. It was a ghastly sight. I knew not what to do. Yet was I there, with my dead and my wounded, and none but God as our physician and help.“Oh my Heavenly Father,” I prayed, “what shall I do? Thou seest my poor wounded boy and knowest my inexperience. Oh, Heavenly Father, direct me what to do!” And then I was directed as by a voice speaking to me.
“No, mother;” he answered, “I think Alma is not dead. But father and brother Sardius are killed!”
My husband and son murdered; another little son seemingly mortally wounded; and perhaps before the dreadful night should pass the murderers would return. But I could not weep then; all my mother’s sense was absorbed in anxiety for my precious boy whom God alone could save by his miraculous aid.
It was night now. We laid little Alma on a bed in our tent and I examined the wound. His entire hip joint had been shot away by the muzzle of a gun, which a ruffian had placed to his hip through the logs of the blacksmith shop and deliberately fired. It was a ghastly sight. I knew not what to do. Yet was I there, with my dead and my wounded, and none but God as our physician and help.“Oh my Heavenly Father,” I prayed, “what shall I do? Thou seest my poor wounded boy and knowest my inexperience. Oh, Heavenly Father, direct me what to do!” And then I was directed as by a voice speaking to me.
She continues to care for her son, prays for additional guidance and says, " I was again instructed as distinctly as though a physician had been standing by speaking to me."
Amanda follows the instructions that she was given and eventually shares this:
"Alma laid on his face for five weeks, until he was entirely recovered—a flexible gristle having grown in place of the missing joint and socket, which remains to this day a marvel to physicians. It is now nearly forty years ago, but Alma has never been the least bit crippled during his life, and he has traveled quite a long period of the time as a missionary of the gospel and a living miracle of the power of God.
"Alma laid on his face for five weeks, until he was entirely recovered—a flexible gristle having grown in place of the missing joint and socket, which remains to this day a marvel to physicians. It is now nearly forty years ago, but Alma has never been the least bit crippled during his life, and he has traveled quite a long period of the time as a missionary of the gospel and a living miracle of the power of God.
It was a privilege to share part of her story. Thank you Sharon K. for loaning me your pioneer gear. Pictures are of just before the event and during my performance.
What an example of turning to our Heavenly Father and our Savior and being blessed by listening to the guidance we're given.
NS
