Last weekend, we were visited by our neighbor and friend Kyle McBride who was in London on business and escaped a few days to see us and do some family history. On Friday, we drove up to the Lake District and, again, enjoyed some scenery unimaginable to those who have not spent some time in England’s pasture lands. I have decided that the whole purpose of winter is to permit us to fully enjoy spring. One of the beauties of spring is the new lambs. Picture lush green fields in every direction with rock walls and generously dotted with white lambs. And, once they are a few weeks old, they jump around together in play groups making for some good entertainment.
On Saturday, we arranged for a church history tour by a local member who has been in the business for several years and has an excellent mix of knowledge, story telling, and timing. Kyle’s third great grandfather, Robert McBride was one of the first to be baptized when Heber C. Kimball and Orson Hyde landed in England. On the day of the first baptisms in the River Ribble there was a foot race to see who would be first. McBride was in the crowd of 7,000 to 9,000 people who observed the race and the baptisms. He was baptized himself 2 days later. We visited the sites where he had been attending church (with Rev. Fielding), where he was baptized, where he was confirmed and where the Saints met for sometime once membership started growing (a cock pit). Once the Perpetual Immigration Fund was established, Bro. McBride took his young family and traveled to America and joined with the ill-fated Martin handcart company headed for Salt Lake. On the day before his death, he carried many across the frozen river and, as the musical talent in the camp, sang Come, Come ye Saints. He was found dead in the snow the next morning. His son, Heber, at age 13, took over and later became a member of the rescue team that would be dispatched to assist pioneer parties experiencing difficulties. What a heritage. We spent Saturday afternoon visiting the church where Kyle’s third great grandparents were married and looking for the graves of a couple of their children. It was gratifying to watch Kyle connect with his past and to be inspired by the faith of that entire generation. Without the English converts, it is difficult to see how the Church could have survived.
On Sunday, we attended church in the Southport Ward about 35 minutes away–where Kyle’s ancestors’ family lived prior to immigrating. Coincidently, when we arrived, there were about 6 couples there from our Chorley Ward who had come to support Elder and Sister Card–who had been invited to speak in sacrament meeting. So, we try to slip away–and get busted. Sunday night, we stayed here and listened to a conference session. Nice ending to the day.
The River Ribble
Kathy, Kyle, and our guide, Peter Fagg
Preston Temple
Kathy and Kyle looking for family headstones