Life is Too Hard

I have always considered myself to be a pretty tough gal.  I was in Kung Fu for four years and I would come home with bruises on my arms the size of golf balls, I was quite proud of them.  I used to go backpacking in the mountains without a set destination, sometimes without a tent.  We once slept in a cave because it started to rain on us and we could hear the bats flying over our heads.  Pretty tough right? I rock climbed often, I went sky diving.  I biked in the rough mountains for 100 miles over three days on a cheap bike with no shocks.  I once trained for a half marathon through the cold Baltimore winter months.  And to top it all off, I've had 3 of my children without an epidural.

Yes, I thought I was pretty cool and rather tough.  Then I went on a pioneer trek and realized I was a pansie.

Preparing for it was hard because I had to sew and cook.

I sewed on a nice electric sewing machine.  I cooked on a stove which works when you turn a nob.

Getting there was a little hard because it was a 5 hour drive

 - in an air conditioned van with soft seats, and music at the touch of a button.

Many of the handcart pioneers came from Europe.  They travelled on a boat, shared small bunks, many were sea sick, some gave birth.  Then they travelled in immigrant cars (freight cars), steam boats, more trains until they could finally start their handcart journey.

I thought that loading the handcart was hard (even though Rock did most of it while I got the kids ready)  because it was windy and cold and we had to figure out how to fit everything in that we would need for 2 days.

The pioneers had to pack for 4-5 months, many had to make their own handcarts.  Several were widows.  We got to take a cooler.  They took sacks of flour.

On our first day, there was a severe weather alert because of the high winds.  We were getting dirt in our eyes as we trekked our three miles.  We had to shout to each other in order to hear one another.   Our baby was tired, but he was having a hard time sleeping with all that wind.  I wrapped him on me and covered him up as best as I could, but was it was hard keeping him away from the wind.  He did eventually fall asleep in the wrap.

Poor us.

Then I remembered that the Martin and Willie handcart companies would have been grateful for such great weather.  When they got to Wyoming, they were in subzero temperatures with inadequate clothing, often walking barefoot in the snow.

We got to go square dancing that night - it was great fun, but we almost didn't go because we were pretty tired.  We had walked three miles in the wind.  The handcart pioneers walked 10-15 miles almost every day.

The nights were the hardest of all.  The wind was blowing and it was hard to sleep with the noise.  Baby Ray kept waking up.  He had a bit of diaper rash from being in the carrier all day and I felt bad for him.

I had never put much thought to how the pioneers spent their nights.  I guess I assumed that they were all so exhausted that they could have slept through anything.  I didn't think about the fact that babies were still up at night (they weren't the ones walking) and that those babies weren't just crying over wind and a little rash.  They were hungry, cold and sometimes sick.

On the second day we pulled our handcarts 2 miles to Martin's Cove.  We learned about some of the hardships endured in that place - the cold river crossings, the extreme cold, the snow, the wind blowing tents down, the lack of food.  We were glad to hear that at this point the rescue companies for them started to arrive.

We walked a loop around Martin's cove (2.2 miles).  The kids and I started to get tired and hungry towards the end of this.  Spice's feet hurt, Bazinks was "tired of walking", we were starting to get hungry.  The kids asked how much longer, and I told them we would be walking 2 more miles to camp after we reached our handcart.  I thought about how fortunate we were that a big lunch was awaiting us at our handcart.  We were about done with the Martin's Cove loop and we saw a sign that said that when the handcart pioneers where rescued, many of them still had to walk since there was not enough room in the wagons except for the most destitute.  There was still 18" of snow to trek through.  They still had 350 miles to go.  Feeling as tired as we felt with only two miles to go, in nice weather - the kids and I gaped and marveled.

Besides the windy nights, the next most annoying thing were the mosquitos.  It was annoying trying to keep them off of me and off my baby.  They were biting me through my shirt.  I thought of the pioneers again and was again reminded of how trivial the things that annoy me are.  I wasn't suffering through frostbite or sickness and neither were my children.  Everyone in my family was alive, healthy and happy and I was whining about mosquitos.

By the second night, if our van hadn't been three miles away and I too tired to hike to it, I wouldn't have spent another night in that tent.  We would have packed things up.  I just felt too tired to spend another sleepless night there and I was feeling bad for our baby whom I knew would prefer a nice quiet crib.  I had spent one night out there -  in nice weather, with good food, and healthy and happy company... and I was ready to call it quits.  How is that for wimpy?   Nevertheless, we stayed.  The wind was harsh again that night, but Rock got up and took the cover off the tent because it was about to collapse on us.  That helped a lot.  It was a little cooler with the wind blowing into the tent, but much quieter and we slept much better that night.

We also had some great conversations, good food, inspiring firesides, fun activities and beautiful scenery with interesting discoveries.  I only mentioned the difficulties to illustrate the point that I am a wimp.  I think we, as a society, are pretty wimpy.  We are told to wear only one pair of earrings and it's so hard.  We are told to dress modestly and it's so hard.  We are told to really study the scriptures and it's so hard.  We are told to pray fervently, to have reverence, to keep the Sabbath day holy, to watch wholesome things, to listen to uplifting music, to use our time wisely and we complain,  "It's too hard,"  "Lighten up!" "We don't have to take things so seriously, we don't have to try so hard, it's all good, have some fun!"

Do we realize what kind of devotion and faith is needed in order to become what we are meant to become?  Do we understand the sacrifice needed to prepare ourselves for eternal families?  Do we comprehend the extent of the charity we must develop to truly be able to gaze into our Savior face in love?  Will we be able to hear him say, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant"?

I need to rise up and live up to the light that is before me.  How can I ever expect to be worthy to stand by the side of those devoted mothers, who buried husbands and babies, comforted hungry children, gazed at those freezing rives and then stepped in to make their way to Zion.  Can I look them in the eye and tell them that I lived up to the legacy they left?  Can I tell them that I have tried my best to build up the Zion that they worked so hard to establish?

I hope I can remember, when even simple things seem too hard and I think I am too tired, the words of Francis Webster, a member of the Martin handcart company.  When hearing criticism about the mistake of allowing the handcart companies to start so late in the season, he stood up and said,

"I ask you to stop this criticism. You are discussing a matter you know nothing about. Cold historic facts mean nothing here for they give no proper interpretation of the questions involved. A mistake to send the handcart company out so late in the season? Yes. But I was in that company and my wife was in it and Sister Nellie Unthank whom you have cited was there too. We suffered beyond anything you can imagine and many died of exposure and starvation, but did you ever hear a survivor of that company utter a word of criticism? Not one of that company ever apostatized or left the Church because every one of us came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives for we became acquainted with him in our extremities." -quoted by Gordon B. Hinckley in Our Mission of Saving (you should read the article by the way - it's so worth your time!)

Some more pictures from our trek:

Walking against the wind:

Waiting for orientation:

Treking the first day:

Sunglasses kept dirt out of eyes

Getting ready to do a "Women's Pull"

(women had to pull a handcart up a hill with no men

to help.  It was a bit emotional as we helped one

another and thought of the many women that did

trek the plains alone):

Square  dancing the first night: 

We made a giant circle and some of the little kids

made a small circle in the middle:

Walking back to camp:

Playing in the tent:

Martin's Cove:

Listening to stories about Martin's cove:

At the top of the Martin's Cove loop:

Playing at lunch time:

Bud was reading The Fellowship of the Ring as he

watched the seagulls.  He named the seagulls, according

to their different characteristics: Bilbo, Frodo, Pippin, Sam, etc.

Several other kids caught on and were calling the seagulls

by these names as well.

Bud found a dead rattlesnake.  He was sad that we

wouldn't let him take it home.

A family picture before we left the campsite

Leaving the campsite on the last day to trek 3 miles to the car: