Reaching Zion...The Final Day

Day 3: July 9, 2011

Our last day of trek.

I woke up early and decided to try and beat the rush to the port a potties. I climbed out of the tent and was met with an absolutely magnificent morning. The sky was crystal blue, the green grass was glistening with dew, the sun was slowly rising over an endless prairie that stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction. I walked up a small hill and out on a path that led me across a ridge where I could look out and soak up the majesty around me. I stood on top of that ridge, in polka dot pajamas, and marveled at the landscape around me. I have always loved the wild, untamed, endless feeling of Wyoming. And I tried to imagine what it must have looked like to the thousands of Saints that crossed those beautiful plains. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine for just a moment that I was there. And I could feel the quiet of the Spirit testifying to me of a God that loved and cherished me just as he did every single individual who set aside all they had to follow Him wherever He led.

We broke camp, ate breakfast and gathered for our last morning devotional. There were a couple of girls in our company that were not feeling well. Two seemed to be suffering symptoms of dehydration and a couple of the girls had terrible blisters on their feet. But the only way out was to get up and walk. The medical team helped them rehydrate and taped their feet but literally we had to encourage and motivate them to keep moving. It was hard when I knew how sick, how tired, and how much pain they were in. But we finally were able to get things packed up and started back on the trail.

I walked for some time with a group of girls who were moving a little slower because of blisters and fatigue.  I really feel like one of the memories and things I am going to cherish most from trek are the “talks” I got to have with the girls as we walked the trails. I felt it gave them and me an opportunity to share feelings and testimonies about a variety of different things that you don’t normally get to share with each other at a regular Tuesday night activity. I loved the time to be with our youth and to talk to them. I always walk away feeling enriched and uplifted.

We stopped for lunch and then proceeded on the final leg of our trek. Just a few hundred yards after leaving our lunch spot, I noticed one of the girls with terrible blisters was on the side of the trail with Becca (our YW’s president). I stopped to see if I could help and we ended up staying with her for quite some time while the doctor worked to see if he could alleviate some of the extreme discomfort and pain on her feet. We had fallen so far behind that they sent for the little “prairie” ranger buggy and drove us to the ending spot. I wanted to walk the remainder of the trail but I was told that I could not walk alone and that we had to meet the buses at a certain time and couldn’t be late. I’ll admit I was really disappointed…but just for a moment. We met the group down at the road where I found a couple members of my “family” burying our poor baby doll that didn’t survive the trek. One of our young women became very emotional every time someone had to bury a “baby”. It was very sweet. 

We were done! With exhaustion but enormous gratitude, we each found whatever spot we could on the ground and waited for the buses. The journey was through. We were headed home for showers, food, and soft, soft beds. I couldn’t wait!

I was so grateful to have been a participant in this trek experience! It was really hard…physically and emotionally. After the first day, I wanted to go home. But we kept going. I learned some things about myself, both good and bad, that have given me perspective and direction. I feel a renewed connection to my past, present and future and a sincere desire to be more committed, dedicated, devoted, and persistent in my efforts to live the gospel of Jesus Christ. 

The pioneers came because they believed. We trek because we want to believe. The baton has been handed off…it is now our time to run the race with faith. 

"In a Sunday school class there was sharp criticism of the ill-fated Martin and Willie Handcart companies, which met with tragedy because of their late start on their trek to the Salt Lake Valley.

"An elderly man arose and said 'I ask you to stop this criticism. You are discussing a matter you know nothing about. Cold historic facts....give no proper interpretation of the questions involved. Mistake to send the handcart company out so late in the season? Yes. But I was in that company and my wife...too. We suffered beyond anything you can imagine and many died of exposure and starvation, but we became acquainted with God in our extremities.

"'I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food that I could hardly put one foot in front of the other. I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hill slope and I have said, I can go that far and then I must give up, for I cannot pull the load through it....I have gone onto that sand and when I reached it, the cart began pushing me. I have looked back many times to see who was pushing my cart, but my eyes saw no one. I knew then that the angels of God were there.

"'Was I sorry that I chose to come by handcart? No. Neither then or any minute of my life since. The price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay, and I am thankful that I was privileged to come in the Martin Handcart Company.'" Elder Robert L. Backman, "Faith in Every Footstep" Ensign, Jan 1997, 7 

Rise and shine!

Our fearless "big brother" carried our baby and fed her from a water bottle the whole day. He was really ticked when at the end of the day she "died" of starvation.

Our amazing "family"!

Any time we whipped out the camera, the boys would strike their "staring off into the clouds" pose. Estee, on the other hand, was always willing to give us a little "ham"!

The journey is through.

The girls thought they were resting in a garden. No one had the heart to tell them it was a horse pasture.