With courage strong they met the test

I have been so busy since I got back from my day with Pioneer Trek, I haven't had time to write. But I don't want to gloss over this fantastic experience.

I was in Young Women from 1986 - 1992, and I don't think folks were doing treks too much in those days. What a shame! I so wish I could have done this as a youth. I had some great experiences, but this was a step above.

We left our town about 6 in the morning to drive to a gorgeous spot above Jackson, California -- the site of the old Iron Mountain ski resort which closed in a financial hoo-hah several years ago. In this area is a trail cut by the Mormon Battalion and beautiful views of Melissa Corey Peak. The tall pines give plentiful shade and the air is deliciously clear and cool -- boy, were we all glad to leave a Central Valley heat wave for this!

Once we arrived, we had a tasty hamburger lunch. The youth were divided into families and loaded their handcarts. I was familyless, since I was just there for the day. It provided an interesting chance to be an observer, more or less.

I spent the early afternoon working with the stake leaders preparing food and activities for the youth as they completed the first couple of miles of their journey. As we joined them, they'd just had their first trailside burial -- a baby doll. I had some doubts about this in the planning stages. Was it too manipulative? Was it even going to be effective? Was it right to use a pretend story like this to teach pioneer history? What about to teach gospel principles about death and resurrection? I didn't argue this stuff because it wasn't my place, but I did wonder.

It turned out to be a very simple, sweet, honest experience. As soon as we walked up to the clearing where our youth had stopped, I felt it. The Spirit was undeniably there. Two leaders dressed in white had come and taken the baby from the pretend parents. They then gave the doll back to the family for burial. The entire company sang and prayed. Many cried.

Later in the day, I heard one male leader protest his wife's tears -- "It was just a doll," he said. Loudmouth me, I had to remind him that there were plenty of real babies to think about and cry for. I guess I was persuaded about this idea, huh?

My first part in the day followed this event. I was portraying Mary Goble Pay. I told the story using the words of Virginia Hinckley Pearce -- just edited to make Mary the speaker. Again, my emotions surprised me. The importance of rearing my children in the gospel came home to me. The depth of sacrifice that Mary's mother made for this purpose struck at my heart. It was a struggle for me to speak these words.

We walked the next three miles with the youth, uphill on a dusty but well-graded road. The sun grew hot for the first time. We were awfully glad to have our plastic water bottles. And by the end of this leg of the journey, everybody was tired and hungry.

We stopped for some more dramatic portrayals. One was Ephraim Hanks, mountain man rescuer of the Martin Company. His first-person descriptions were bleak and evocative. And then, dinner. Rationed broth and hardtack, and the youth were not too happy. That would have been a good decent meal on the trail.

I couldn't help thinking about my handcart pioneer ancestor, Sarah Crossley. By the time Brother Hanks found her group, they were surviving -- barely -- on a tablespoon of flour a day. As we walked the final mile to the camp site, I told her story to the other leader I was walking with.

At camp, we fed the youth another dinner. So the meager meal was another manipulation, if you want to look at it that way. A lesson, really. We all certainly appreciated the goulash, salad and garlic bread we got to eat as we looked out over an amazing view of the Sierra Nevada.

We had a little time to fill before the fireside, and I was asked to share Sarah's story. I messed it up a little bit -- I always forget whether she was in the Martin or the Willey Company. I hope my posting the link above can make up for that error. Then my second planned part in the day -- I provided the musical number for the fireside. I chose "Pioneer Lullaby"from LDSMusicSource.com. Half the beauty of this piece is in the simple, rich chord accompaniment, but I was a capella. I think it held up okay, anyway.

The fireside speaker was our stake patriarch. His message was mostly aimed at the youth, of course. But a few words in particular stood out to me. He talked about how the handcart pioneers lost toes, fingers, feet to frostbite. And he asked, "Are you going to let the adversary chip away at you?" A little at first. A bad attitude. Some criticisms. Some questions. Some doubts.

I think I've lost some toes in the last little while. Best to cut them off and come inside, before the cold reaches my heart.