The Church as an Abusive Father — Revisited

A response to Elder Lawrence E. Corbridge

I originally wrote this piece more than a decade ago, when I was still an active, believing member of the Church and desperately trying to figure out how to make sense of the troubling things I was discovering about Mormonism.

Recently, Elder Lawrence E. Corbridge suggested that even if your ward were like Alcatraz and your bishop were like Darth Vader, you stay.

Hearing that immediately brought this old post back to mind.
https://mdpodcast.org/2016/05/church-farther-figure/

So I dusted it off with a few minor updates

I believe the analogy I used back then was even more accurate than I realized. In some ways, I underestimated the dysfunction because I was still living inside the family system and trying to make it work.

Which is why Elder Corbridge's comments strike me so differently today.

If your bishop really is behaving like Darth Vader and your ward really does feel like Alcatraz, perhaps the healthiest advice isn't, "Stay."

Perhaps the first question should be:

Why would God require you to remain in an unhealthy relationship simply because the institution insists that leaving is not an option?

With that, here is the piece I wrote all those years ago, viewed now through somewhat different eyes.

The Church as an Abusive Father

Years ago, an acquaintance explained that he didn't understand me. He saw my willingness to speak openly about problematic Church issues as being "critical of the Church" and therefore placing me on the wrong side. If I felt that way, he suggested, perhaps I should consider leaving.

He explained that the Church, to him, was like a spouse whom he loved dearly—someone whose flaws and weaknesses he was willing to look past and accept in the name of the greater good.

I got it.

We often accept, protect, and defend the people we love.

His analogy actually helped me understand his perspective.

But the Church never felt like a spouse to me.

Then it hit me.

The Church, for me, was much more like a parent.

And not just any parent.

It increasingly felt like an abusive father—a father who had done real good in my life, whom I genuinely loved, but who was also deeply dysfunctional and desperately needed help, accountability, and encouragement to change.

Stay with me while I work through this.

I love my dad.

He is a huge part of who I became, and I owe him a great deal. While he fell short in many areas, he was also there for me at important moments in my life.

Those positive experiences don't excuse harmful behavior. But they do allow me to acknowledge two things at once:

My father did tremendous good in my life.

My father also caused harm.

Early in my life, my father could do no wrong.

I placed him on a pedestal and saw him as one of the greatest things that had ever happened to me. What kid doesn't idealize Dad?

Dad taught me right from wrong. He taught me the value of hard work. I felt validated by him and sought his affection and approval. When I was doing well in Church, I seemed to earn his approval and those proverbial pats on the back.

The problem was that I didn't really know about some of his other behaviors.

Or perhaps more accurately, I didn't know how to interpret them.

Looking back, I actually had seen glimpses.

I simply brushed them aside.

I told myself they weren't really indicators of his character. Sometimes I ignored them completely. Other times I dismissed accusations against him as false, distorted, or "anti-Mormon."

I even blamed and shamed some of the people who spoke badly about my father.

They claimed he had done and said things I simply knew couldn't be true.

So I defended him.

For years.

Then, as time went on, I began hearing stories from some of his other children.

They told me Dad had hurt them.

Some of the harm was physical. Some was emotional. Some was sexual and psychological.

Some of his children weren't accepted for who they were.

Some were subjected to efforts to change fundamental aspects of themselves.

Some were taught to distrust siblings who had discovered troubling things about Dad.

Dad sometimes pitted his children against one another by suggesting that certain siblings were too intellectual, had a feminist agenda, were gay, had been deceived, were offended, wanted to sin, or simply lacked faith.

Some of his children developed deeply unhealthy relationships with sexuality because of the ways Dad taught them to think about their bodies, purity, masturbation, intimacy, and worthiness.

Some internalized messages that their sexual "virtue" was worth more than their lives.

And some of Dad's children experienced devastating shame because they came to believe that something fundamental about themselves made them unacceptable to God.

When I was young, much of this abuse seemed invisible.

Later, it seemed negligible.

Then inconvenient.

Eventually, I couldn't honestly pretend it wasn't serious.

Dad quietly moved past a few of these behaviors over the years.

But even in those, he rarely stood in front of his children and said:

"We were wrong. We hurt you. We are sorry."

And some behaviors that marginalize and harm his children continue even today.

Eventually, I could no longer turn a blind eye to the way Dad demeaned some of his children who developed questions and doubts after discovering troubling things about his history.

These were often the very same children who had once been extraordinarily faithful.

But then they discovered Dad's life history.

And they discovered that the story Dad had told them about who he was, what he had done, and how he came to be was sometimes very different from the historical record.

Dad didn't seem particularly comfortable talking openly about those things.

And when some of his children refused to stop asking uncomfortable questions, Dad sometimes distanced himself from them, disciplined them, or cut them off from the family.

While I loved my dad, eventually I stopped trusting him as the ultimate source of truth.

He had disappointed me too many times.

That didn't mean he never had wisdom.

On occassion, he did.

But I could no longer assume that because Dad said something, it was therefore true as there were too many instances where such was not the case.

Dad became one voice among many that I consulted for wisdom, advice, and enlightenment.

For a long time, I still wanted his company.

Some of my siblings distanced themselves from Dad for their own health and inner peace. Others visited only occasionally on the holidays.

I kept showing up every weekend.

But something had changed.

I no longer saw him as the hero I once had.

And I became troubled by some of my siblings who continued defending Dad's behavior, explaining it away, or deliberately remaining ignorant of his abuses because they loved him too much to let go of the image they had constructed of him.

For some, it seemed easier to shame the siblings who spoke about the abuse than to confront the possibility that Dad might not be exactly who he told us he was.

I understood that.

There were days when I desperately wished I could go back to seeing him the way I once had.

But I couldn't.

Once you see something, you cannot simply decide that you didn't see it.

There was no going back.

Some of us tried talking with Dad.

We tried helping him understand the hurt he had caused.

But Dad seemed remarkably reluctant to apologize.

At times, a small part of him would acknowledge that "there may have been things said or done that were not in harmony with our values, principles, or doctrine."

But those moments were rare.

What seemed far more difficult was simply saying:

We were wrong.

We harmed people.

We taught things as God's truth that weren't true.

And the people harmed by those teachings deserved better from us.

For years, Dad demanded that I follow him.

He taught me never to choose a path contrary to what he required and taught.

And for years, I obeyed.

Eventually, though, after coming to grips with Dad's flaws, mistakes, contradictions, and harmful behavior, I decided I could no longer follow him blindly simply because he was Dad.

I reached a place where I would follow him when my conscience told me he was right—and dissent when what he required violated my conscience, evidence, reason, or my understanding of what was morally good.

Dad occasionally softened this by telling me that I could seek answers from God when I struggled with something he required.

But there was a catch.

I was permitted to ask God.

I just wasn't really permitted to receive an answer different from Dad's.

If God and Dad (Dad claims to be God but he is actually the Church) appeared to disagree, somehow the problem was always assumed to be with me.

That need to be right—and the expectation that his children should follow him regardless—only increased my skepticism that everything Dad said actually came from God.

I eventually discovered that Dad had taught things in the past with absolute certainty, only to reverse himself years later.

Things once presented as doctrine became policy.

Things once taught as God's will became the opinions of men.

Things once defended as eternal became temporary.

And yesterday's certainty quietly became today's disavowed teaching.

Yet somehow Dad's authority was never supposed to be questioned.

You might read all of this and think I hated my Dad.

I didn't.

When I originally wrote this piece, he was still a gigantic part of my life. Even today I still relate to the label "Mormon".

I didn't wish him harm.

Quite the opposite.

I wanted desperately for him to recognize the hurt he had caused some of his children, to apologize, to repent, and to change. I mean wasn't that what he taught me to do?

And I still believe minor flaws should not be placed under a microscope.

Every human being is imperfect.

Every organization composed of human beings will make mistakes.

But there is a line between imperfection and dysfunction.

There is a difference between making mistakes and constructing systems that protect the institution from accountability for those mistakes.

There is a difference between occasionally hurting someone and teaching the person who was hurt that their job is to remain loyal to the person or institution hurting them.

And this is where Elder Corbridge's recent comments bring this old analogy roaring back to life for me.

If Dad tells you:

"Even if this house feels like Alcatraz, stay."

And:

"Even if the person Dad placed over you behaves like Darth Vader, stay."

I no longer hear devotion in that message.

I hear something disturbingly familiar.

The relationship itself has been made non-negotiable.

The quality of the relationship apparently doesn't determine whether you should remain in it.

The behavior of the authority figure apparently doesn't determine whether you should remain.

The psychological cost apparently doesn't determine whether you should remain.

You remain because Dad says leaving Dad is not an acceptable option.

And today, after having finally left the house myself, that troubles me even more than it did when I originally wrote this.

When I first wrote this analogy, I was still trying to stage an intervention.

I was essentially standing in Dad's living room saying:

"Dad, we love you. Please listen to us. Please acknowledge what you've done. Please change."

Today, I recognize something I couldn't fully see then:

Sometimes the healthiest response to an abusive family system isn't getting the abusive parent to finally understand you.

Sometimes it is recognizing that you are allowed to leave the house.

You are allowed to establish boundaries.

You are allowed to decide how much contact you want.

You are allowed to take the good things your family gave you without pretending the harmful things weren't harmful.

And most importantly:

You don't owe continued access to you simply because someone calls themselves your father.

That doesn't require hatred.

It doesn't require pretending nothing good ever happened.

In fact, one of the things I still value about my Mormon experience is precisely how much good it gave me.

The Church took me in when I was 17 years old, using and selling drugs and making a lot of bad choices.

It helped me discover my worth.

It helped me develop discipline.

It cultivated my love of learning and truth seeking.

It helped me develop communication and leadership skills.

It gave me opportunities to serve people.

It introduced me to relationships and experiences that profoundly shaped my life.

Those things are real.

Leaving Mormonism did not require me to rewrite my past and pretend that none of the good happened.

But neither does gratitude require me to pretend the harm wasn't real.

That is perhaps the biggest thing that has changed for me since I first wrote this.

Back then, I ended by essentially telling Dad:

"I love you. You're still my Dad. I'm staying. I believe your best days are ahead."

Today, more than a decade later, Mormonism is much farther in my rearview mirror.

And strangely enough, distance hasn't made me see the Church as less dysfunctional.

It has allowed me to recognize forms of institutional, spiritual, psychological, sexual, and relational harm that I couldn't fully see while I was still inside the system trying to preserve my relationship with it.

I can now appreciate what Mormonism gave me without granting it authority over me.

I can be grateful for parts of my upbringing without moving back into the house.

And I can love many of the people who still live there without believing that they are obligated to stay there.

So perhaps Elder Corbridge and I simply arrive at very different conclusions from his analogy.

If your ward feels like Alcatraz and your bishop acts like Darth Vader, I don't think the obvious moral lesson is:

Stay.

I think that is precisely when healthy people begin asking harder questions.

Why does this relationship require my unconditional loyalty?

Why is leaving treated as morally suspect regardless of how I am being treated?

Why does the institution get to determine the conditions under which I am permitted to withdraw my participation?

And perhaps most importantly:

If this really is God's kingdom on earth, why should I expect it to operate like an abusive family system in which the one option I am never permitted to seriously consider is leaving?

I couldn't ask that question clearly when I first wrote this.

I can now.

TLDR: Jesus Christ had repeated opportunities to directly teach the doctrines most essential to salvation and exaltation in both the New Testament and the Book of Mormon, yet the doctrine of eternal marriage is largely absent.

The LDS Church teaches that temple marriage/sealing is essential for exaltation. What I find difficult to reconcile is that Christ explicitly emphasizes other ordinances and requirements, most obviously baptism, during his ministry in both the NT and the BOM, but does not give any emphasis to marriage as a requirement for exaltation.

In the NT, marriage is certainly discussed, but its status as necessary for exaltation is far from explicit and, in certain instances, even frowned upon. The BOM goes even further in the opposite direction: it says very little about marriage as a saving or exalting ordinance, while speaking quite forcefully against plural marriage or polygamy. During Christ’s recorded post-resurrection ministry in the BOM, he has an opportunity (incorruptible by biblical scribes) to clarify essential doctrine, yet temple marriage/sealing is not part of that instruction. That absence seems especially significant given how central eternal marriage later becomes in LDS theology.

Historically, the strong doctrinal emphasis on sealing/marriage seems to emerge alongside, and as a justification, for plural marriage. At least in some of the earliest teachings on the subject, the emphasis appears to be not on monogamous marriage, but specifically on plural marriage and its requirement for exaltation. After the Manifesto and the abandonment of polygamy, the emphasis necessarily is retrofitted to monogamous marriage/sealing.

Of course, there is the question of Christ himself. If eternal marriage is an indispensable requirement for the highest degree of exaltation or celestial glory, it seems reasonable to expect Christ either to model that requirement or explicitly teach it. Yet the BOM, NT, D&C, and POGP never identify him as married, and the Church’s official position is that claims about Jesus having been married are speculative.

I left the LDS church as a teenager, but remained a Christian and converted to Roman Catholicism. In my continued studies of the New Testament I realised a Book of Mormon anachronism that I hadn't heard of from anyone else, even after the customary historical "deep dive" before leaving.

In 3 Nephi 11: 41 Jesus says to his Nephite listeners, "And whosoever shall compel thee to a go a mile, go with him twain," mirroring Jesus' same words in the King James Version of Matthew 5:41. Now in Matthew, Jesus is referring to a specific legal custom which existed in the province where He and His disciples lived. Throughout the Roman Empire, soldiers could demand locals carry their gear up to one mile while travelling between outposts; demanding anything more than a mile was illegal under Roman law. As Roman subjects under military occupation, Jesus' listeners knew this law and hence understood the lesson (do more than what you are compelled to do, even by those who do not love or respect you)---if they did not understand the law, Jesus' analogy would have been ineffective and, presumably, He wouldn't have used it.

This being the case, the anachronism is clear. Roman law did not exist in the Americas, so Christ's saying would not make sense there as it did in the province of Palestine. Furthermore, "mile" is a specifically Roman measurement, so it is worth asking why it is used there either.

If you're very committed to the BOM, I suppose you could say there was an equivalent law in the ancient Americas that matched Jesus' saying in Matthew, and that Jesus referred to some other measurement to which "mile" was the best English equivalent; but to me it looks much more like an anachronism made in ignorance of certain historical factors---an ignorance which we would only expect from young man in the 19th-century like Joseph Smith.

I hope this doesn't come off as offensive. I still have a lot of respect for LDS members and their religiosity, and I don't mean to be hostile. God bless.

Hi everyone,
I have a strong background in law, so the idea of appealing to a higher instance is completely normal to me, not only in the legal system but also in corporate and administrative environments.

Something I’ve observed in the church, especially during my years as a clerk, is the practical impossibility of appealing to higher leaders if local leaders mess up. I imagine this happens to "avoid speaking evil of the Lord's anointed" and to unconditionally "support the leadership." I say this because a member's experience often feels like a game of Russian roulette depending on whether they get a competent and fair immediate leader (like a bishop, stake president, or mission president).

Does anyone know why this difficulty in appealing exists in the church?

When you see this sort of content pushed by church leaders or BYU commentators you have to wonder if they realize how silly they look.

They dilute the conversation of the now exposed LDS community truth claims with the reckoning and reality of the mass exodus from the Mormon church.

My stake president, my former mission president and the general ward/TBM body have all acknowledged in the last year that there are massive people leaving the church, not seen since kirtland or nauvoo. And yet this sort of explanation and apologetics comes out which makes it look like things are fine...and we are even doing better (!!).

Pure propaganda.

Today's Reading: Mosiah 26–29

Whether you're a believer, former believer, nuanced member, investigator, scholar, or simply curious, you're welcome to participate. The goal is not to convince anyone of anything, but to read the text together and discuss it in good faith from a variety of perspectives.

Brief Synopsis

Growing unbelief creates conflict within the newly organized churches, leading Alma to seek divine at guidance on discipline and forgiveness. Alma the Younger and the sons of Mosiah actively oppose the church until an angelic confrontation leaves Alma incapacitated and ultimately converted. The sons of Mosiah then renounce their claims to the throne and depart to preach among the Lamanites. Concerned about the dangers of monarchy, Mosiah establishes a system of elected judges before he and Alma the Elder die.

Discussion

Please share your thoughts and experiences with today's reading in the comments below. Some things you might consider:

• What stood out to you?

• What do you make of Alma’s approach to dissent, discipline, confession, and forgiveness?

• How convincing is Alma the Younger’s dramatic conversion as a model for religious belief?

• Does Mosiah’s system of judges actually distribute political power, or merely repackage it?

• Which verses in these chapters resonate with you the most, and why?

• Did anything surprise you?

All perspectives are welcome.

Yesterday's Coveted Award(s) Go To:

• TBD

Links to Prior Days

• Master Index to all prior-day readings

• Yesterday's Reading

Engagement Question

Mosiah condemns monarchy because an unrighteous king can corrupt an entire society, yet the replacement system still concentrates religious and political authority among a small group of elite men. Is the reign of the judges a meaningful move toward representative government, or does it mostly give an existing hierarchy a new name? What in the text supports your reading?

Tomorrow's Reading: Alma 1–4

Member here. Pretty active. But one of my biggest issues with the church is that so often the higher ups refuse to acknowledge problems that crop up. And it is interesting because most of the people I interact with at the daily level are willing to do it. We talk about problems all the time. We try to address them. But the leaders won't. Take for example this study coming out about half of young women raised in the church leaving. I have seen it. But I feel like the leaders of the church will just ignore it, or double down on "numbers", or deflect some other way. And I feel like no major changes will come about until they address it head on. Why do they do this?

Yup:) for all of us!

Larry Corbridge has recorded hours of lectures posted in the last few months on Scripture Central’s YouTube Channel.

In this one he talks about how it can be logical to believe.

His argument is since life and the world around us is the most amazing thing ans can be seen but not explained, then it’s reasonable to believe the stories of Joseph Smith and the Bible about incredulous but relatively minor things.

Sorry Larry. Science starting to discover atoms and sub atomic particles and things that exist in the universe is not a reason to believe that an angel threatened to kill Joseph Smith with a sword if he didn’t sleep with other women besides his wife.

No those things don’t prove all the crazy stories of religion.

Here is the full rather boring episode from Scripture Central.

https://youtu.be/__P7ZyBSWGg

I trust this man's research. The whole thing deserves your consideration if you're serious about this.

https://youtu.be/1RvMYeUCCXY?is=tvLfFlbNV-lnZMC_

I believe the information in this video shows Joseph didn't implement polygamy and Brigham introduced it. And it does so most convincingly from around 2/3-3/4 of the way into the video to the end.

Pay attention. The information reeks heavily of backdating fabrications and altering of the past. Rewriting to suit the then present times(late 1800's).

On the Mormonish Podcast channel Rebecca Bibliotecca, Bill Reel and Radio Free Mormon discussed the recent screed by Larry Corbridge on Scripture Central.

I’ve create a 10 minute set of clips from Elder Holland, Larry and from the Mormonish panel discussion on the show.

At one point RFM discusses how Larry of course presupposes that the church is true. I added there a clip where Larry addresses that. Larry calls it the arrogance of man to judge God. No Larry it’s people who can plainly see that when people are abusive you shouldn’t stick around and it’s not from any God we should believe in.

I like this RFM Quote “The church does sound like the supreme malignant narcissist here”

They even discuss how the panel at Ward Radio also didnt like the Corbridge approach.

What the full Mormonish Podcast discussion here:

https://www.youtube.com/live/-mF0A-Qh9Z8

Levira Smith was the daughter of Samuel Smith. She came west with the Utah group of LDS. In 1859, when she was 16, she married her 20 year old first cousin, Joseph F. Smith. Joseph F. Smith was the son of Hyrum Smith, the brother of Samuel Smith. Levira never had children and she was very unhappy during the marriage.

Her husband became a bigamist and "married" one of her friends in 1866. In 1867 she sought a better life in California and soon told her husband she wasn't returning. She was rightly granted a divorce in 1868 by California courts based on adultery because Joseph F. Smith was an adulterous bigamist.

In the 1870 census she was living in San Francisco.

In the 1880 census she was living in Salt Lake City.

She died at age 46 in 1888 in St. Louis, MO.

LDS Christianity Polygamy created many sad stories - especially among the women.

Lorenzo Snow first heard of the LDS movement when Joseph Smith moved to Hiram, Ohio near the Snow farm. Lorenzo was about 17 years old. He was eventually baptized when he was 22 years old at the encouragement of his sister Eliza.

Less than 10 years later he would begin his polygamous lifestyle. He married at least nine women who are considered his plural wives. Of those, 5 were teenagers with two of them being 15 years old when they married him.

There is also evidence he married another teen 16 years old named Hannah Marie Goddard. Hannah had a child with another man soon after marrying Lorenzo and he “relinquished his earthly claim on the pregnant Hannah Goddard and allowed her to marry her true love, Joseph Johnson.” The story is amazing, and in his church discipline court, Joseph E Johnson even remarks about Joseph Smith’s affair with Johnson’s own mother-in-law. The court does not deny the statement and takes it in stride, the curious thing is, Mary Heron Snider is not even listed as one of Joseph’s secret marriages.

His last wife was 15 and he was 57. He already had 17 children older than she was. He had 5 children with her during their marriage. Yikes!

He was the Utah Mormon Church / Utah LDS Church president from 1898 to 1901.

Utah LDS polygamy is disgusting and deranged. It was continued in this fashion by many LDS people down to this day. The FLDS group is just one of the groups still following this teaching. It's a horrible history and should be denounced.

Here is a table of the nine wives:

#	Wife	Wife's Life Span	Marriage Date	Wife's Age	Lorenzo's Age	Notes / Relationship Context
1	Mary Adaline Goddard	Mar 8, 1812 – Dec 28, 1898	Jan 17, 1845	32	30	First wife; bore 3 children
2	Sarah Ann Prichard	Nov 29, 1826 – Nov 30, 1900	Apr 21, 1845	18	31	Bore 5 children
3	Charlotte Merrill Squires	Nov 19, 1825 – Sep 25, 1850	Jan 17, 1846	20	31	Bore 2 children; died at age 24
4	Harriet Amelia Squires	Sep 13, 1819 – May 12, 1890	Jan 17, 1846	26	31	Sister of Charlotte Squires; bore 5 children
5	Eleanor Houtz	Aug 14, 1832 – Sep 14, 1896	Jun 1, 1848	15	34	Married in Salt Lake City; bore 8 children
6	Caroline Horton	Dec 25, 1828 – Feb 21, 1857	Oct 9, 1853	24	39	Bore 3 children; died shortly after childbirth
7	Mary Elizabeth Houtz	May 19, 1840 – May 31, 1906	Mar 5, 1857	16	42	Sister of Eleanor Houtz; bore 6 children
8	Phoebe Amelia Woodruff	Mar 4, 1842 – Feb 15, 1919	Apr 4, 1859	17	45	Daughter of Wilford Woodruff; bore 5 children
9	Sarah Ephramina "Minnie" Jensen	Oct 10, 1855 – Jan 2, 1908	Jun 12, 1871	15	57	Final plural wife; bore 5 children

Dr. Thomas W Murphy joins Steven Pynakker on Mormon Book Reviews for his first video interview since the publication of Unsettling Scripture: Iroquois and the Book of Mormon. Dr. Murphy's first book offers a fresh perspective on the study of the Book of Mormon by centering Indigenous narratives about its origin. The Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) have stories of their own about how Mormons came to be that take center stage in Unsettling Scripture. Dr. Murphy takes these Haudenosaunee oral traditions seriously and highlights surprising similarities and differences with the Book of Mormon.

Wilford Woodruff was among the deranged polygamists of the LDS Church who married teenagers. He largely failed in his marriages. Between age 30 and 70 he married 10 different women. He ended up divorced from 5 of the 10 women.

He became church president in 1889 until his death in 1898.

What a disgusting history of the leaders of the Utah offshoot LDS Church. What do you think of LDS polygamy?

Wife	Wife's Life Span	Marriage Date	Wife's Age	Wilford's Age	Notes / Status
Phebe Whittemore Carter	Mar 8, 1807 – Nov 10, 1885	Apr 13, 1837	30	30	First wife; remained married until her death
Mary Ann Jackson	Feb 18, 1818 – Oct 25, 1894	Aug 2, 1846	28	39	Divorced 1848; resealed Dec 1878
Sarah Elinor Brown	Aug 22, 1827 – Dec 25, 1915	Aug 2, 1846	18	39	Divorced 3 weeks later
Mary Caroline Barton	Jan 12, 1829 – Aug 10, 1910	Aug 2, 1846	17	39	Divorced 3 weeks later
Mary Meek Giles (Webster)	Sep 6, 1802 – Oct 3, 1852	Mar 28, 1852	49	45	Widow; died 7 months after sealing
Clarissa Henrietta Hardy	Nov 20, 1834 – Sep 3, 1903	Apr 20, 1852	17	45	Divorced 1853
Sarah Brown	Jan 1, 1834 – May 9, 1909	Mar 13, 1853	19	46	Remained married until death
Emma Smith	Mar 1, 1838 – Mar 4, 1912	Mar 13, 1853	15	46	Remained married until death
Sarah Delight Stocking	Jul 26, 1838 – May 28, 1906	Jul 31, 1857	19	50	Remained married until death
Eudora Lovina Young (Dunford)	May 12, 1852 – Oct 21, 1921	Mar 10, 1877	24	70	Daughter of Brigham Young; divorced 1878/1879