The first time I saw Emma
she was walking down the road
beside my son.
He was happy! Naturally!
He was coming home again,
the fair-haired one.
But she was leaving everything
to be a stranger in another woman’s home.
It must have been hard not to feel alone,
even though I came to love her as my own.
But she never complained.
Oh I did! Plenty! I let my voice be heard.
But Emma, to her credit, bore her trials
without a word.
They lived with us a year –
a year of constant danger,
moving the golden plates here and there,
watching the house by day and night,
wondering when and where
the next attack from our neighbors would come.
Our neighbors, mind you –
can you imagine that!
Folks you’ve known, helped, and tended
when they were down and out,
and they came to our door,
demanded to see the plates, and pretended
that we’d never been friends.
Well, God sends us trials to try us,
that’s what life is all about,
and if that’s what earns stars
in our crowns, there is no doubt
that Emma will be crowned a queen.
I have never seen
a woman in my life
who would endure every species
of hardship, month to month,
year to year, with courage and zeal,
never complain and never appeal
to high heaven for redress or relief.
She has suffered the raging of men
and devils, and persecution
which would have borne down any other woman,
and it is my firm belief
that Emma is a queen among women,
and my son was lucky to have her
by his side.
I knew her as a young bride,
and admired her provident ways.
I knew her as a woman in her extremities
bereft of everything she loved, her husband,
her friends, and she could still praise
the God who sent her so much sorrow.
I lived with her in those dark days
when the saints left Nauvoo.
She was pregnant with her ninth child
and I was old, hardly a help –
more of a burden, I knew –
but I could hold her hand
and understand,
and offer my love and faith in tomorrow.
I could have stayed with my own daughters.
But Emma and I were Naomi and Ruth.
I had buried my husband and sons,
and she had buried hers,
all sacrificed for the truth
of the gospel Joseph revealed.
He sealed his testimony with his life,
and she shared all the hardships, and the strife,
then faced the future alone,
with “No friend but God,
and no place to go but home.”
And home was Nauvoo, dismal, deserted, dark.
Now came the hardest years for Emma – to embark
on a life stripped of her greatest joy.
I saw her plod along,
rear her children, and employ
all her ingenuity to stay alive one more day.
I believe she thought she could stay here
and not betray
the gospel principles that Joseph gave.
After all, she made it her life’s cause
to protect his family and his grave.
Did I love Emma? Does the sun shine?
Would I want her as a daughter
and call her mine?
I can answer best
With Joseph’s words before his last arrest.
“Even in the seventh trouble you are here,
undaunted, firm, unwavering,
my unchangeable,
affectionate, Emma dear.”
Unto all the world: I love Emma Smith!
