The Sweetest Thing

Because we are earnestly enjoying a few days off school thanks to Utah's fabulous Fall Break, Chris and I took the family to see a movie tonight. The older boys had both brought their own money to buy treats for the show so Chris and I waited off to the side while Jake and Matthew went up to order. When they came to join us, Jacob handed me a box of Junior Mints (one of my VERY favorite treats!) and said, "Here Mom. I got these for you."

I'm not sure I have ever been more touched by a simple act of kindness from one of my children. He knew I had been craving Junior Mints for a couple of weeks and for some reason hadn't been able to find a box of them anywhere! And then he took his own hard earned money and bought me a box! Do you know how many chores he did to earn that money??! I fell head over heels in love with my boy all over again.

My sister Abby and I were discussing this week how hard it is to be a mom. Nothing can prepare you for the ups and downs, the frustrations, the joys, and the tender mercies. It is a job that you learn by doing it. I have never worked harder in my life at something...and sometimes I feel like a complete failure. And then there are glimpses of the men and women these children are becoming and I feel honored and humbled to be a part of their journey.

Jacob, thank you for my box of Junior Mints tonight. It meant so much to me. I am so grateful for the incredible young man you are and for the privilege of being your mother. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I adored you. You will always hold such a very special place in my heart. I am grateful every day for the things I see you doing and the astounding mind and spirit you possess. You are wonderful!

Tender mercies...

My Side of the Story....Part 2

Last February I started writing our "adoption" story...it is taking a little while to finish it. My desire in writing down this experience has several purposes...first, to remember. By writing down these experiences, not only does it help me remember the details but it helps me see and recognize details that I hadn't noticed before. Again and again I am amazed at the tender mercies of the Lord in this process that started years ago but haven't been recognized or appreciated until now. I truly testify that the Lord is aware of us. Every prayer that is uttered is heard and being answered, whether we see it or not. Answers can be a process....a series of events and opportunities that have to be given time to unfold. And what we may see in our limited mortal perspective as being the right answer may not be the Lord's answer. We have to trust Him. I am so grateful for the journey and what we have learned...but it truly has taken until now to understand some parts of the journey.

Second, this experience happened the way it did because of the people the Lord placed in our path. Their testimonies, examples, and willingness to share helped us receive the answers and have the courage to travel this road previously untraveled. In writing down our experience, I hope to give back. Every single adoption story is different and unique. But there are threads that we share...and I hope that maybe our experience will provide an insight or shed some light on this amazing blessing. Sometimes just knowing that other people had walked the road was enough to strengthen us when we didn't know what to do. There is comfort and strength in our shared experiences.

So here is part 2 of the story. If you would like to read part 1, it can be found HERE!

One July afternoon, I was flipping through the June 2011 Ensign magazine when I came across an article that literally stopped me in my tracks. It was entitled “Defending the Family In a Troubled World” by Elder Bruce D. Porter- and as I read the inspired words, the Spirit testified very powerfully to me that there was another child that was supposed to come to our family. I was completely and totally overwhelmed. I think I even closed the magazine and tossed it across the room. I felt a surge of conflicting emotions…why had the Lord asked me to go through a year of accepting that our family was complete only to be told that it wasn’t? Why did He allow me to become excited about all the prospects for the future only to feel that those weren’t the prospects that were going to be presented? 

That afternoon, Hannah attended a birthday party at her friend Spencer’s house…Spencer’s mom Michelle was one of the friends that I felt complete confidence in confiding with during this whole experience and so I told her the experience I had had and how overwhelmed I was at the impression I had received. She shared with me that the agency they had adopted their 2 daughters through had just contacted them and told them that the birth mother of their youngest daughter was expecting another baby…a boy… and wanted to know if they were interested in adopting him. Michelle said she didn’t feel like this was meant to be their baby. I looked her in the eye and said, “What if he is supposed to be mine?” I shared with her the feeling that I had that there was a child missing and that I felt like this baby was going to be an African American boy. I also shared my concerns…what did I know about raising a black child? What did I know about raising an African American boy? How would I know what to do? We talked for a long time and I left feeling truly uplifted and comforted by the things she shared with me. If this was the Lord’s will, then we would know what to do. I needed to have faith.

I called Chris on the way home and shared with him what Michelle had told me about the little boy being put up for adoption. We had continued to discuss adoption here and there…and I had even mentioned that I was open to a trans-racial adoption…but Chris still had some hesitations and concerns. I didn’t tell him about the strong impression I had had that afternoon while reading the Ensign article…I don’t know why. I just needed time to process things. Chris didn’t say much but agreed we needed to continue to talk about things. When I arrived home, I went out to get the mail and was completely shocked when I opened the mailbox. I had received a free subscription to a magazine called “LDS Living” and the issue I found in my mailbox that day (August 2011) had an African American man on the cover with the title of the main story called “God GiftedMe My Race” by Keith Hamilton. I honestly could not believe it. I read the article and was amazed, completely and totally amazed, at how many of my questions it answered and the peace it brought to the experiences of the day. It was such an amazing coincidence! The Lord is truly merciful!

All these thoughts raced around in my head and heart. I finally shared with Chris the experience I had had reading the Ensign article and how overwhelmed I felt. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell him but I needed to come to some peace and understanding in my own mind. The feelings were so strong and raw. I found myself suddenly wanting to move in one direction but feeling prompted to move in another. I was a little confused and bewildered…and I still didn’t understand how this was supposed to happen. Hadn’t we tried to do all we could over the last 5 years? What now? 

On the one hand I yearned for another baby…OUR baby. But on the other hand, I was excited about the prospects that awaited me personally and our family as we moved forward. Hannah would be in first grade…I could go back to work part time…we could travel and do things we hadn’t been able to do while our children were small…could we go back to diapers and middle of the night feedings…back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. 

Toward the end of summer 2011, we had a serious discussion one night about what we needed to do. It is easy to get stuck in the lull of “indecision”. You know you have a tough choice to make but you put it in the background and avoid making the choice, hoping it will just resolve itself. I really wanted that…either I would get pregnant and that would be that or someone would suddenly call and offer us a child. And we would just go with it. I kind of wanted that. I didn’t want to have to make the difficult decision…I just wanted it to be made for us and then we’d go with it. Daily life kept us so busy that it was easy for time to pass. And yet it was always there. When it was quiet, when I was praying, when I was reading or studying the scriptures…I knew. And I knew that the Lord needed me to go through the process of choosing and moving. I needed spiritual confidence and the only way to gain that was to “do it”. The night we had our serious discussion Chris said he felt we needed to move both directions and have faith that as we did, one of the directions would open itself and the other would close. We needed to demonstrate to the Lord our willingness to continue to work and pray. We needed spiritual and emotional endurance. Answers aren’t given just because we ask one time. And we can’t quit just because it takes a month…or 5 years. I also doubted my ability to really receive and act upon spiritual/personal revelation. I struggled with what I wanted vs. what was wanted OF me. I wanted to hear the voice of the Lord but sometimes wondered if His voice was being shut out by the screaming of my own voice. But Chris’ plan made perfect sense. We decided to visit a fertility specialist in the area and to also contact the adoption agency again and see what we needed to do to move forward.

Interesting side note…after talking to several friends and researching some things on the internet, we had decided to use a local adoption agency called “Heart and SoulAdoptions”. I had tried to contact them several times during the summer and hadn’t had anyone respond to my phone calls. I was discouraged and perplexed. And those friends who had adopted through them were REALLY surprised. Their experience contacting and working with them had been wonderful and they were surprised that I was having difficulty contacting anyone. And yet I persisted. At one point I did have contact with the woman in charge of adoptive families and we had a good conversation that led to me printing out all the documents and paperwork from their website…but all the paper work ended up in a drawer in my bedroom and never saw much “action”. 

Fall of 2011 we made an appointment to see a well-known and respected fertility specialist in our area. During our first consultation with him, we laid out our thoughts and feelings about fertility vs. adoption. I shared with him that if the only means to getting pregnant were in vitro, then I would prefer to adopt…and at that point he shared his strong opinions against adoption. I have to admit I was absolutely and completely shocked at what this doctor was saying. We had so many friends whose beautiful families had come together through adoption. We had close neighbors and friends whose families bore strong testimony to us of the Lord’s love for all of his children and the eternal nature of families…no matter how those families found each other. And here was a “medical professional” telling me what a terrible mistake adoption was…how we would never “know what we were getting”…how we were walking into someone else’s mess. I couldn’t believe his insensitivity and downright ignorance. He ran some blood tests and we left.

A few days later we went back to get the results of the tests he had done. They all came back indicating that things were fine with both Chris and I. During the course of the discussion, adoption came up again and before the doctor could launch into his lecture of the horrors of adopting, I told him I needed him to respect that we had very differing views on the matter and to stop trying to dissuade us from a decision that was personal between Chris, me and the Lord. The more he tried to talk us out of it, the more I think we began to feel that adoption was the right decision for us. At one point during the appointment, after the doctor had left the room, I began to cry. I felt the presence of our son so strongly. I knew he was out there. I knew he belonged to our family but I told Chris I just didn’t know how to get him to our family. How on earth would we find him? 

As we left the fertility doctor’s office that day, we knew. This was not how our baby was going to come to our family. Both of us had received that confirmation and assurance…but now what?

A few weeks passed. We talked, we thought, and life went on. At the end of September Chris attended the priesthood session of stake conference and during that session wrote down a challenge our stake president gave that if each individual would approach listening to general conference with a question or problem they wanted answered, that they would receive the inspiration and have their question answered during conference. We challenged each of our children to have a question they wanted answered and so Saturday morning before the first session of the October 2011 conference, as we were sitting in Kneaders eating unlimited French toast to celebrate Matthew’s 9^th birthday, we went around the table and asked the kids what their question was. At the end I asked Chris what his question was. He said he wanted a confirmation once and for all that we were supposed to adopt and how we should proceed. The experience we had that morning while watching conference would change our lives forever. 

To Be Continued....

A Birthday Ode to Chip

This is a "copy" of the birthday gift I wrote and gave to Chip for his 40th birthday. What do you give a man who has everything?

An Ode to Chip

(In the form of a story)

By: Amy Carr

            The snow fell silently on the rocks around me. I paused for a moment to lift my head and try to catch the quiet snowflakes on my tongue before going back to my serious game of “cave woman making a home in the rocks during a snowstorm”. But only seconds later, a sound echoed through the snowy woods and down the rocky terrain that made my blood run cold and my heart start racing. It was the “Swedish boys”. I froze.

            As an adult, I can’t really give any realistic details on who the “Swedish boys” actually were or what their actual crimes against me were. In my childhood memory, they were giants…great, big teenage boys with sharp fangs, enormous claws, and a talent for throwing items with almost perfect aim...acorns, berries, small rocks, etc.  They also liked to shout things in a language I didn’t understand, thereby becoming all the more terrifying to me. I don’t even know if it was the same group of teenage boys or a different assortment each time but these boys had terrorized me from afar and just the sound of their voices was enough to send me into an insane panic.

            I looked over at my house…it was a whole parking lot and one street away. I only had a few moments. I needed to run.

            I stood up quickly and turned to scramble down the rocks when my foot slipped and my boot became wedged in a hole between 2 rocks. I was scared, I was frantic, and I was about to be discovered…and for the life of me, I couldn’t get my boot out. I tugged, I pulled, and I started to cry. From the top of the rocky ledge, the “Swedish boys” had spotted me and quickly began scooping up snow and packing it tightly into deadly snowballs. In a final moment of sheer Herculean strength, I managed to pull my foot out of my securely wedged boot and fled home in my sock amid a shower of snow balls.

            I feel quite certain that my entrance into the house was dramatic and loud. Mom came rushing to the front entry to calm me down and try to put together a cohesive story. Chip came out of his room and stood quietly listening in the hallway. Mom had escorted me over to the stairs to comfort and try to calm me. Chip continued to watch for a few moments and then walked with determination to the front door where he started putting on his winter gear. He tugged on his green snowsuit, then his mittens and hat. By the time he was pulling on his boots, I knew where he was going. It was a suicide mission. He would be slaughtered. He marched out the door before anyone could try to stop him.

            Quickly my mom and I rushed upstairs to watch from the giant picture window in our living room. I was filled with horror and admiration. He was 2 years younger than I was…those “Swedish boys” would swallow him whole! Chip marched across the street and through the parking lot. He climbed those slippery rocks and knelt down to tug and pull on my frozen boot. After a few moments, it came loose and he marched back home with it securely clutched in his furry, reindeer mittens. He walked in the door, set it down next to my other boot, took of his winter gear, and calmly walked back into his room to continue playing with his Legos. I was awestruck.

            That afternoon, Mom and I worked on making Chip a great, big “HERO” badge out of construction paper and ribbon to give him at Family Home Evening that night. His deeds would be retold, he would be given the great badge of honor, and the whole family would stand in awe at his sheer tenacity and courage. It would not be the last time that Chip would “come to the rescue”.

            The story of the Swedish boys and my abandoned boot has been told many, many times over the years. It has become family folklore, a legend. But to me, it has always stood as a great example of the type of person my “little” brother is. I was genuinely scared that day. I can remember the sheer terror I felt in seeing those boys and the sorrow in losing my boot. And I can also remember the feeling in my heart and soul as I watched my little brother do something courageous and selfless. It was no small thing to me.

            Over the years, Chip has rescued me many times. There were countless times that I knocked on his office door in the basement of the Kennedy building or his apartment at college, numerous phone calls late at night. We have driven several times across the United States together and I have read several really thick books out loud that I didn’t understand.  He has listened to me rant and rave, wail and cry, tell long rambling stories, and been gracious each and every time. He has given me blessings of comfort, written encouraging letters from Sweden to Denmark, and always been up for a grand adventure. He has been my friend, my brother, my therapist, my playmate, and now an amazing uncle and friend to my children.

            Chip…happy, happy 40^th birthday! Thank you for being a very real hero in my life and always setting the example of doing what is right…no matter what. Thank you for always being my friend. Thank you for so many fun, wonderful memories and shared experiences. I treasure each one.

Here is to 40 plus more years of adventure! I love you! 

Me reenacting the boot experience in the exact location it occurred on our visit to Sweden a couple of years ago.

My own daughter was the exact age when we visited Sweden as I was when the boot incident occurred. She is standing in the place where the "swedish boys" were throwing snowballs.

Looking at my house from where I was "trapped" in the rocks.

How A Wild Burro Almost Ate the Baby...and Other Savory Summer Tales

 

Once upon a time, our family took a vacation...we lovingly call it the "Carr Family EPIC Summer Vacation 2012". And it was an ambitious idea...but we are ambitious vacation people...we saw some truly remarkable things and had some amazing experiences. I always wonder in my old age which memories will linger, what memories will be the strongest...I hope I never forget these wonderful moments with the people I love most! But just in case...I'll finish the blog about our vacation.

DAY ONE

We drove to Ogden, Utah and visited the enormous dinosaur park. It was big...it was impressive...it was SO hot. We loved it but might try it again when we don't feel like we are being fried alive. I think we spent a majority of the time doing what dramatic people do...pretending we are being eaten alive by plastic dinosaurs. We may have overdone it now that I'm looking at all the pictures...

One of my favorite pictures from the day...the kids pretending to look in their guide books to find out what this delicious little speciman of dinosaur is called...he really is adorable.

In you have not discovered the sheer joy of writing on windows with dry erase markers then I MUST insist you try it on your next vacation. Hours upon hours of entertainment...and wipes off with a paper towel. The kids drew and named their very own species of dinosaur after visiting the museum...so fun.

After the dinosaur museum, we headed to Jim and Chellae's apartment in Idaho Falls. There was a pool, a delicious BBQ out by the pool, and a fun, fun sleepover with cousins. My children were in heaven...and when people asked them what the best thing they did on vacation was, this night won hands down. Nothing in the world like water, food, and family!

DAY 2:
We left Idaho Falls with Chellae and her kids and headed to Yellowstone National Park for a day of romping and frolicking in nature's greatest playground!

We spent a couple of hours enjoying the waterfall and "swimming" hole at Firehole Falls and river. It was beautiful...the kids loved the water...especially Baby!

We saw geysers and hot pots and hot pools and all manner of amazing natural wonders...
but we ended the day at Old Faithful...I loved that while the entire summer crowd of tourists were ohhing and ahhing over the geyser spouting hot water hundreds of feet into the air, Baby was earnestly discovering his own toes. They were fascinating...he literally could not take his eyes off of them...even to see a geyser.

We came in through West Yellowstone but left out the east entrance to continue our epic journey to the Old West. It was a magical time of day...I couldn't believe how completely and utterly beautiful and breathtaking it all was. And to top off an amazing day, we saw a big bear eating his dinner on the side of the road!!!!! A bear sighting...it was unbelievable...all my Yellowstone dreams coming true!

Going into Yellowstone...

Leaving at the end of a very busy, wonderful day!

That night we stayed in a fabulous family run motel about 30 minutes outside of Cody, WY. I continue to embrace my quest to find the quirky, home grown motels of America...they are SO much more interesting than your run of the mill chain franchise. And when we woke up the next morning, look what we found teetering on the edge of the mountain above us...

you don't find local attractions like this in the backyard of your EconoLodges...click here if you are interested in the reading the story behind this architectural wonder.

 DAY 3:

We headed into Cody, WY for a nutritious McDonald's breakfast and a fun morning exploring the awesome Buffalo Bill Historical Center!

One of my favorite pictures...they said it was their "Native American" pose since every picture they saw of an Indian had them standing just like this.

Next, a drive to Devil's Tower. We had appropriately prepared our children for this experience by watching "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" as a family. It really was quite stunning and impressive!

It was evening when we arrived and hiking around the base of this mammoth natural wonder was really a reverent and beautiful experience. I didn't realize that Devil's Tower is a very spiritual and religious place for many Native Americans...it has been for hundreds of years and continues to be so today. There were prayer shawls and ribbons adorning many of the trees and visitors are asked to respect the sacred nature of the place by staying on the trails. I really felt a special presence there. I don't know quite how to explain it but I felt connected to the people and spirit of the place. It was beautiful to look out over the valley and to see a glimpse of this country as it appeared many, many years ago. This trip helped me better understand the Native Americans and their painful history. Seeing this land a little tiny bit through their eyes and then knowing what would happen was heartbreaking. They truly were stewards of the natural world around them...they had a reverence and depth of understanding regarding the earth that we have become so desensitized to in our modern day and age. There were moments of silence and beauty that took my breath away. This world is so alive and so beautiful!

DAY 4:
One of the most unexpected parts of our trip to this part of the country was the exodus of motorcycle enthusiasts making their annual mecca trip to Sturgis, South Dakota where they do ??????? for a week! (I really don't know what they do in this tiny town for a week...but we were traveling the week leading up to this grand event...everywhere we went were hordes of motorcycle lovin' people.)

We had spent the night in Rapid City, SD and so bright and early we headed to Jewel National Cave for a morning of deep cave exploration. It started with a very long elevator ride to the center of the earth...

 It was an amazing experience in a place I had never been (or heard of) before our epic family vacation. We loved it!

Following our journey to the center of the earth, we headed toward Mount Rushmore via Custer State Park...the scenic route.  At one point of our scenic drive, we came across a very friendly group of wild burros. Naturally we had to stop and explore the landscape and pay our respects to the wildlife. Baby and I were holding a quick diaper changing session out of the back of our mini van when we suddenly found ourselves surrounded by a group of very friendly, very curious burros who were anxiously sniffing my rear end and the baby's dirty diaper. There is photographic evidence but it does not flatter my rear end nor the appalling lack of manners of the wild prairie burro so we are going to refrain from a public posting. The older kids were afraid the burros wanted to eat the baby...I was afraid they just wanted to get high on the dirty diaper. Chris was trying desperately to "shoo" them away but they weren't having any of that. It made for a tense few moments...no one ever talks about what to do if you are being aggressively sniffed by a pack of mules. Luckily, we survived and left without any permanent scars...emotional or physical.

We also saw a herd of buffalo...we didn't stop this time. We had learned our lesson from the mules.

This was pretty much how I rode through the countryside all day...like a dog with my head hanging out the window trying to take in all the sights, smells, and sounds.

The park winds on hair pin turns and roads through rock tunnels and over wooden bridges until you suddenly find yourself looking at Mount Rushmore framed by stone. It is breathtaking.

We made it...Mount Rushmore! A bucket list item checked off the list. It really was magnificent and very impressive!

We stayed for the evening program where at the end they light up the monument...it was very patriotic and inspiring! I love the United States of America! We definitely know how to "go big"!

DAY 5:
We left Rapid City and headed to Sylvan Lake in Custer State Park for a little rest and relaxation before tackling the next part of our epic vacation. You may remember this little gem of a place from National Treasure 2...it was SUCH a beautiful place and fun way to spend a day.

Chris and the kids splashed and played in the lake...due to some squeamish fears of fish and water moccasins and slimy lake bottoms, I opted for the beach and a little wading...WITH my flip flops on.

After playing at the lake for several hours, we headed down toward Casper, WY with a side trip to Fort Laramie. Being an avid fan of American history, I knew what a critical role this fort had played in the development of the West...and I was anxious to see it for myself. It did not disappoint. We arrived late in the day so we explored and took ourselves on a "self-guided" tour...it was amazing...until the end when the park ranger mentioned the enormous bull snake he had just seen slithering through the grass...then it was time to get back in the car and leave. While I am completely intrigued and fascinated by the history of the Old West, there is a good reason why I am a tourist and was not selected to be an actual "player" in the real story...I don't like snakes...or fish...or slimy lake bottoms.

And don't you fret for one second...there was lots of acting and drama and film  making going on...this was HB's costume for one of the scenes...I'm not sure if this was the mother visiting her son in jail part or the innocent pioneer woman about to be attacked by a wild west inmate who has been thrown in jail for wild drunkenness...

We did not eat dinner one single night before 10:00 p.m. So after Fort Laramie, the kids asked if they could have a meal where they sat in an actual chair instead of being thrown a hamburger in the back seat. We headed for Casper, WY and a Pizza Hut...it wasn't before 10:00 p.m. but it did involve a table with real chairs and silverware. I fear it was the highlight of the trip for certain members of the family.

DAY 6:

The next morning we set out for Independence Rock and Martin's Cove. It was an exciting, overwhelming, humbling day.

Independence Rock is most famous for the names inscribed on its face—the names and dates of people who passed by this place in search of a new life in the frontier.
Named for a fur trader’s Fourth of July celebration, this huge rock became the most famous and anticipated of all trail landmarks. Here the trail met the cool, clean and clear Sweetwater River that would lead it to South Pass. The emigrants paused to inscribe their names on the “Great Register of the Desert” while they rested themselves and their livestock. They observed the national Independence Day (no matter the actual date) and congratulated themselves on reaching the perceived mid-point in their journey.

 

It was the names carved in stone here that caused Father Peter J. DeSmet to appropriately name this place “The Register of the Desert” in 1840.

(excerpt taken from www.ultimatewyoming.com)

 

Just a few miles up the road from Independence Rock is Martin's Cove. As we drove that day, the kids watched the movie "17 Miracles" in an effort to give them a framework and appreciation for the sacred place they were about to see. Most visitors who come to Martin's Cove take a handcart and set out on the trail to explore this area...I was overwhelmed at the prospect of doing that with 4 children who had already spent a day hiking and walking...they offered to have a sister missionary take us out on a type of 4-wheeler instead. I have never been so grateful for anything in my whole life!

 As you travel the trail in the area, you come to little log cabins where senior missionary couples are waiting to tell you a particular story or experience that occurred on the pioneer trail and during this poignant time in the exodus to Salt Lake City. I loved the stops and stories told by these senior couples...it was a beautiful way to experience and better understand what we were seeing and the events that had happened.

When we reached the actual location of Martin's Cove, the sister missionary driving us explained that she couldn't take us back to the cove. President Hinckley had dedicated this spot and asked that it be a place of reverence and reflection. It would require some significant walking to there and back to see this place...it was the end of the day. It was hot and there was little to no shade along the trail. But Chris and I sat for only a second before we asked the kids to climb out of the 4-wheeler and make the trip with us. We just felt in our very bones that this was important...Matthew had the hardest time and was really upset at being asked to do this. We had only walked a few feet when we stopped and decided to offer a prayer that Heavenly Father would not only give us the physical strength to walk but would help us to feel in our hearts and souls the importance of what had happened here. I desperately wanted my children to gain something important from this experience...I knew they needed this. I don't know which child needed what but I knew each of them had a need that would occur in their lives that this memory could help them find strength and courage. We had ancestors that walked this trail and were part of the company that sacrificed and suffered here. That prayer helped our little family make the journey to the cove.

I carried my baby most of the way. He fell asleep and was heavy and hot but I wanted to understand a little bit about what it was like to walk and care for the ones you love. My ancestor Eliza Briggs carried her little baby sister along this trail...I thought a great deal about her while I walked. One of the missionaries told us about the family who bought this parcel of land in the late 1800's. The father of the family often described a very real presence and reverence that he felt any time he was in the area of Martin's Cove. When he heard of the events and sacrifices that had occurred there, he made a vow on behalf of his family that the area would never be plowed...just used for grazing. And to this day, that vow has been sacredly honored and kept by the family. They were not members of the church but held great respect for those that traveled on that hallow ground.

Looking back on the suffering of the Willie and Martin Companies and the courage of those who rescued them serves to strengthen us. The words of one survivor of the Martin Company experience—Elizabeth Horrocks Jackson Kingsford, widow of Aaron Jackson, who died after crossing the Platte River—reflect that strength: “I have a desire to leave a record of those scenes and events, through which I have passed, that my children, down to my latest posterity, may read what their ancestors were willing to suffer, and did suffer, patiently for the gospel’s sake. And I wish them to understand too, that what I now [write] is the history of hundreds of others, … who have passed through many like scenes for the same cause. I also desire them to know that it was obedience to the commands of the true and living God [to gather to the Salt Lake Valley], and with the assurance of an eternal reward—an exaltation to eternal life in His kingdom—that we suffered these things. I hope, too, that it will inspire my posterity with fortitude to stand firm and faithful to the truth, and be willing to suffer, and sacrifice all things they may be required to pass thru for the kingdom of God’s sake” (“Leaves from the Life of Elizabeth Horrocks Jackson Kingsford,” Utah State Historical Society, Manuscript A 719).
https://www.lds.org/ensign/1997/08/remembering-the-rescue?lang=eng

Visiting Martin's Cove was a highlight of the trip for me. It wasn't because there was much to see... it was just rugged Wyoming landscape...but because of what happened there. I am very much a part of the suffering that happened there. I am a product of sacrifice and faith and a testimony of Jesus Christ rooted so deeply in the hearts of those that came before me that they were willing to sacrifice all they had, their very lives if necessary, to defend that testimony and be found obedient in whatsoever the Lord commanded them.

This is my time, my chapter. What legacy will I leave? What will my life say about who I was and what I was willing to stand for? Martin's Cove helped me better understand who I am and what I want to be. "Voices from the dust"...

We drove home to Utah that night with our hearts full. It was a vacation to be treasured and remembered. Thank you sweet family for 6 days of fabulous memories. Let's do it again real soon...
 

"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