The baby son was in the kitchen crying, and his father tried to console him. Eleven other children were in the back, also crying. In the living room, in a casket, lay their mother. Grieving neighbors in veils, some of them holding flowers, surrounded the casket. One of these, too, was weeping.
The neighbors were sad but not surprised by this event that occurred in Zacatecas, Mexico, in 1963. The worn-out mother, Teresa Espinosa, had in her mid-teens become the fifth wife of an austere widower 30 years her senior and helped rear eight of his children. She had also given birth to 12 children of their own during their 20 years of marriage. In the past few years, a series of miscarriages had left her tired and emotionally drained. As she grew worse, she had gone to a doctor for treatment and received an injection. Afterwards, she slipped into a coma. Three days later, she was proclaimed dead. She was dressed for burial and a priest was called to administer last rites. The kindly priest observed that this woman had not confessed recently, nor had she been married by the church.
"However, he said, "I want to save her soul."
As he proceeded with the final rites, he lit some incense. The incense worked as a restorative, like smelling salts, to the comatose woman. As it began to burn, its odor filled the room and the casket shifted. Teresa Espinosa began to stir. She opened her eyes and asked her neighbor, "Why are you weeping?"
"Yi!" exclaimed her neighbor, pulling off her veil and dropping her flowers. "We thought you were dead!"
A scene of great commotion followed, with children and neighbors hugging the woman dressed in burial clothing, sitting up in a coffin. "How glad I was to end their sorrow," she said.
Within 10 months, her health had improved and "I was quite healed from my early death," she said.
Yet for all this, Teresa Espinosa, now a member of the Church in Chihuahua, Mexico, carried with her from the casket a sense of reluctance to return to her harsh reality. She basked in the warmth of a spiritual experience that came during her coma. "But for my children, I wanted to die," she said.
She explained that her life was extremely difficult. Her husband provided her with security, but treated her like a servant. He operated his ranchos and financial affairs without telling her any of the details. And she carried the whole burden of taking care of the children.
Two years later came the reason why she had been spared, she believes. Two missionaries visited the little family store she operated. Out of curiosity she asked them if they were salesmen or fortune tellers. They explained that they were missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and asked if they could teach her about the Church.
The missionaries came and taught the Espinosa family, and the parents and all children who were old enough were later baptized. Her husband was not interested in baptism until one of the children asked him about his future if he were to die the next day. He changed his mind and was baptized. However, he was never active in the Church.
As the years rolled by, Sister Espinosa eventually became the mother of seven more children and another two died in childbirth. One day, at 3 a.m., a son drove her to the hospital to deliver a baby.
"When I joined the Church, I learned for the first time what a marriage should be," she recalled in a recent interview during a visit to Salt Lake City. "I was so lonely. I prayed to Heavenly Father for my husband to change. But that morning at 3 a.m., something inside me told me, 'You are the one who has to change.' So I doubled up my fists and said, 'I will have to change. He will never change.' "
One day the missionaries came to her home for Thanksgiving dinner and announced that they were being transferred from Zacatecas, and there would be no replacement for them. They brought a turkey that she cooked, and they had a wonderful evening. But because there were few members and no branch in Zacatecas then, the prospect of being without the missionaries was too much for Sister Espinosa to bear. In addition, her husband's farms were doing poorly and the family worked long for little profit. So she gathered up all the money she had, which happened to be her tithing money, and used it to travel to Chihuahua where the Church was strong and could help her nurture her children in the gospel.
Leaders in Chihuahua welcomed her but were wary of her ability to provide for herself and her children. However, she rented an apartment and brought all the children but one to Chihuahua. Her husband also remained in Zacatecas working on a small farm. She started a bakery and her children sold the goods. But her sense of guilt for not paying her tithing stayed with her.
She felt she had an "understanding" with the Lord about the tithing, but "this was the most terrible moment of my life," she said. Even in their poverty, she began to pay tithing on the gross income of the bakery, a practice she continues to this day.
"We have been greatly blessed," she said. "None of our children have been without, none of them."
Two years after she moved, her husband died. After his death, his business partners cut her off completely from his property. She was three months pregnant at the time and "it was very difficult for me."
The one son who remained in Zacatecas was making good money, but was involved in what she described as the "unwholesome" selling activities of cigarettes and beer. He said that if he could stay one more year, he could pay for a house.
"He didn't want me to work so hard. But I said, 'You will ruin your life. Come live with us.' "
He moved to Chihuahua to be with the family which was then squeezed into a small apartment. But gradually the business began to prosper and the family eventually bought a home. The children have served in many callings. A son, Juan Alberto Espinosa, is president of the Chihuahua Mexico Stake. Sister Espinosa served a number of positions in the Relief Society and Primary.
"The members in Chihuahua are wonderful," she said. "All of my experiences in the Church have been special for me.
"Yes," she said, "I worked hard, but that is life."