I must stop here in my narrative to explain a little about my mother so you will better understand about my personal problems. Mother was baptized the same day we were in the Roman baths. She was active in the church for awhile. Aunt Jessie Capel, who was president of the Relief Society, chose her to be her secretary. There were many factors contributing to mother's rebellion. She was a very proud and independent person and there was intense persecution against the church at that time. Then when mother took over the Relief Society books it was found that there was a discrepancy of several pounds in the financial records at that time. The church auditors came to audit the books and mother, not understanding church procedure, thought she was being accused of dishonesty. Then she happened to see one of the missionaries sporting a girl and smoking a cigarette, so mother became embittered toward the church.
A few years later Father was made Branch President and being war years he had to travel around to the different branches visiting and encouraging the members. Dad would have liked to have had mother go with him but she wouldn't go. She also very strongly objected to my father paying a tenth of his income to the church. As I have stated before, we were slowly recovering from a severe [economic] depression and mother was very conscious of money and what the lack of it meant. I had to help my father with his reading and writing because of his poor vision and sometimes she thought perhaps I was taking sides against her. We tried to include her in all our activities but she would have none of it. We tried to live at peace with her but she refused to co-operate and our house became a battle ground--divided against itself. I used to dread to go home from work and conditions became so unbearable that after a bout with influenza I had a nervous breakdown. My hair came out but it soon grew back again. After recovering I went away for three weeks to a sanatorium owned by my employers.
While at the sanatorium I made many friends. Clevedon is a little old-world town on the coast of the Bristol Channel. It's beautiful beach and walks are a delight and the old-fashioned gardens were something to see and remember.
It was a rule at the sanatorium that everyone should attend church and since there was no LDS church in the area, I went with some of the girls to the Church of England. The one we attended on that first Sunday morning was an old Seventeenth Century church on the top of Salt Hill overlooking the sea. It was a beautiful old church on the outside but cold and dark inside.
There were chains on the walls and pews. We asked the old Sexton what they were there for and he said they were used to chain the bibles to the pews so that no one would be tempted to take them away. He showed us a couple that were still there. I don't know why they thought people would steal them because most people could not read, and besides they were mostly written in Latin.The sermon that morning was a treatise on the personality of the Godhead. The minister did a good job of confusing the minds of the congregation--or so I thought.
On the way back "home" one of the girls asked me how I enjoyed the sermon. I couldn't resist such a golden opportunity to tell them that I couldn't believe in a God such as the Minister had tried to describe, one without a body, parts or passions. I told them of our belief in a loving Heavenly Father, and that once we dwelt with Him before our existence upon the earth. I remember what a beautiful morning it was. The sun was shining, the sea gulls screaming, and the sound of the bells on the buoys in the harbour. As we walked slowly along, what joy filled my soul as I told those girls the Joseph Smith story. That night after lights were out we sat up in our beds and talked. There were four single beds in our room and the girls asked many questions and with the help of the Holy Ghost I was able to answer them and tell them many things about the restoration of the Gospel. I never saw those girls again after I left Clevedon and I often wondered if they remembered the things I told them.
A few years later Father was made Branch President and being war years he had to travel around to the different branches visiting and encouraging the members. Dad would have liked to have had mother go with him but she wouldn't go. She also very strongly objected to my father paying a tenth of his income to the church. As I have stated before, we were slowly recovering from a severe [economic] depression and mother was very conscious of money and what the lack of it meant. I had to help my father with his reading and writing because of his poor vision and sometimes she thought perhaps I was taking sides against her. We tried to include her in all our activities but she would have none of it. We tried to live at peace with her but she refused to co-operate and our house became a battle ground--divided against itself. I used to dread to go home from work and conditions became so unbearable that after a bout with influenza I had a nervous breakdown. My hair came out but it soon grew back again. After recovering I went away for three weeks to a sanatorium owned by my employers.
While at the sanatorium I made many friends. Clevedon is a little old-world town on the coast of the Bristol Channel. It's beautiful beach and walks are a delight and the old-fashioned gardens were something to see and remember.
It was a rule at the sanatorium that everyone should attend church and since there was no LDS church in the area, I went with some of the girls to the Church of England. The one we attended on that first Sunday morning was an old Seventeenth Century church on the top of Salt Hill overlooking the sea. It was a beautiful old church on the outside but cold and dark inside.
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| St. Andrew's Church on Salt Hill, Clevedon |
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| St. Andrew's Church, Interior |
Christi: These pictures are awesome. It really makes the story come alive. Thanks for your diligence in finding them.
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