You know, I’ve wondered what the Saints in general thought of OPR and his reputation. They certainly knew of it — he figures regularly in published remarks of outsiders. But his modern reputation, at least, is grossly exaggerated, and his targets always seem to have been “them” rather than “us,” so perhaps what they knew didn’t bother his neighbors at all. But it’s curious that I haven’t come across much about him from those neighbors.

I do think that where his family was concerned, at least, OPR was a loving, kindly father, to a degree that would surprise most people. He had three families, including one by a wife who left him in Nauvoo and who didn’t come west until after OPR’s death. His children, especially those in that first family, were scattered from Minnesota to Arizona, and were members of just about every offshoot of Mormonism in existence at that time. Yet I find evidence that OPR kept track of them all, encouraged them to come to Utah, hosted his grandchildren for summer visits, helped get various relatives started in life, and did all that you would expect from a father. And when you remember that he couldn’t write (and of course couldn’t pick up a telephone), “keeping in touch” with all those children and grandchildren took an extraordinary effort. Sooner or later I expect to do a paper on “Porter Rockwell, Patriarch” to share what I’ve found about OPR as a family man.

That doesn’t tell us much about Christina, though. Other than generic genealogical records (census, church membership, burial), this article pretty well covers all I have discovered about her, and of course you have to read between the lines — visits made, visits not made — to extract anything personal. She is my model visiting teacher, one whose actions demonstrate she understood its value.

When my parents were sick and alone, I knew (and proved by experience) that one long-distance call to Mom’s visiting teacher would bring the home-cooked dinner or the extra-long chat that was needed. I wonder if that VT (Naomi M.) has had the same kind of service since then, when she needed it. Sometimes I think of Naomi when I visit one of my VT sisters (one whose circumstances remind me very much of my mother’s) and pretend that I’m paying Naomi back — by proxy — for her kindness to my mother. I guess that’s the way I have to think of VT: it *can* work wonders even when it often doesn’t, and someday the accounts will be settled.

I enjoyed reading the discussion on T&S.

A note on the VT. I have always been quite a proponent of VT. I’m sure I learned it from my parents who always take their responsibilities and church callings very seriously.

Well, here I’m living through a very difficult stretch in my life and am far from family. Kind of like Christina’s experience. The RS has been largely absent. Kind of like Christina’s experience. As I’m emerging from the events of the last few years, I’m totally on the fence as far as my church experience and trying to figure out where to go with it. Do I come out of this experience with renewed dedication to the visiting teaching program because I’ve seen how much it could have helped in crisis and I realize how deeply other people need support even if they’re not there at the bishop’s doorstep begging for assistance? Or do I figure that the program didn’t work for me, so why should I keep putting my time and efforts into it? It’s interesting being at this fulcrum right now and feeling like I could totally go one way or the other. Thanks for posting Christina’s story so I can consider the decision of someone else who was in a very similar situation.