Carolyn Jessop; Laura Palmer Read Online Free PDF

pledged to God that we would never do anything to undermine his work and would produce many children. There were thousands of chosen spirits waiting to come to earth. We were the women who would give birth to them. Grandma taught me that my sole purpose on earth was to have as many children as possible. God would reveal the name of the man he wanted me to marry by sending a revelation to the prophet.
    To a little girl, this sounded important and thrilling. It was the one way in my life that I could feel special. Nothing explained why my mother beat me or why my parents argued all the time when my father came home. But Grandma made me feel as though I had been singled out for an important life. I didn’t question my parents’ behavior; it was a fact of life for me. Violence toward children was incorporated into our belief system, and it was very common in the community to see a mother slap one of her children, sometimes very hard. I knew my parents didn’t get along, but I didn’t really see many other parents who did. This was just the way our world worked; I had no way of making comparisons. But whatever happened at home, I knew in my heart that God thought I was special. I knew that the prophet would tell me whom to marry and then I’d produce as many babies as I could. Because I loved my grandmother so much and because this was presented to me as absolute truth, it would be years before I’d even begin to look at any of the premises my life was based upon.
    The most dramatic story my grandmother ever told me was about the raid at Short Creek, Arizona, on July 26, 1953. The way she told it, the women of the FLDS rallied to protect the work of God. The raid is a key focal point of FLDS history. Grandma told us this story over and over, and it always began the same way—with her dream.
    Several months before the raid, Grandma dreamed about being with her children in the back of a very old wagon. The prophet, Uncle Roy, was driving the wagon across an old, rickety bridge that was beginning to break apart from the weight of the wagon. Grandma could see that there was a deep ravine below them with a rushing river. She knew that if the bridge collapsed, they’d all be lost forever.
    But the wagon made it safely to the other side. She knew, in her dream, that Uncle Roy had saved them and that he was the only man who could have done so.
    Grandma said rumors were rampant that a raid was coming. She put my mother and aunt to bed that night in July and went to the schoolhouse to join in a prayer circle, asking God to keep the armies of the devil at bay.
    A lookout was posted on the only road coming into town. The young man was supposed to warn the community if he saw the authorities coming by exploding several sticks of dynamite. The blast came. The state of Arizona had launched an invasion. Grandma said the lookout ran into town and fell at the feet of Uncle Roy, shouting, “They are coming, they’re coming, and there are hundreds of them!”
    Out of the darkness came troops from the Arizona National Guard along with police and other local officials. They moved into Short Creek (which is now Colorado City) and began arresting men and women who practiced polygamy.
    Uncle Roy was urged to flee but decided to stand firm. “My feet are tired of running and I intend to turn to God for protection.”
    Grandpa Jessop, Grandma Jenny’s father-in-law, went out to meet the authorities and said, “What is it that you want? What have you come for? If it is blood you want, take mine, I’m ready.” He was an elderly man with a long white beard. Photographers snapped his picture as he stood up to the authorities.
    Grandma described the harrowing scene as the troops tried to take babies out of their mothers’ arms. The children were wailing, the mothers were screaming, and newspaper photos the next morning captured the terrible images that turned public opinion in favor of the polygamists.
    By the time the raid was over, 122 men and