Running by the Wagon

One of the biggest blessings in my life recently has been the week that I was able to spend at my home in Logan with my parents. While I was there I was able to feel surrounded and loved and protected by those who know me best. It is amazing what unknown scars can be healed with that kind of love 24/7. One of the tender mercies in my life was that I was able to help my parents prepare for trek. This included helping my mom write a reader's theater about the young men and women who experienced this test of faith, endurance, and physical stamina. As I was dealing with my own Rocky Ridge at the time I was deeply drawn to the stories of these boys and girls, some younger than I, some my same age--though technically I would have been registered as a Spinster at the age of 28 (that is neither here nor there right now).

One of the most engrossing stories was that of young Elizabeth Caldwell of the Willie Handcart company. In her journal she recorded the beauties, depradations, sorrows, and joys of her journey to Zion. In late October the Willie company truly grasped the full horror of their situation. They were running out of food, the snows had come, people were dying every day. Some fell by the wayside, too overcome with exhausting of body and spirit to keep going. Others kept walking--stoically hoping for relief. And then it came. Elizabeth records this striking story in her journal:

Just before we crossed the mountains, relief wagons reached us, and it certainly was a relief. The infirm and aged were allowed to ride, all able-bodied continuing to walk. When the wagons started out, a number of the children decided to see how long they could keep up with the wagons, in hopes of being asked to ride. At least that is what their great hope was. One by one they all fell out, until my sister Agnes was the last one remaining, so determined was she that she should get a ride. After what seemed the longest run she ever made before or since, the driver, who was Heber [William Henry] Kimball, called, "Say, sissy, would you like a ride?" She answered in her very best manner, "Yes sir." At this he reached over, taking her hand, clucking to his horses to make her run, with legs that seemed to her could run no farther. What went through our heads at that time was that he was the meanest man that ever lived or that I had ever heard of, and other things that would not be a credit nor would it look well coming from one so young. Just at what seemed the breaking point, he stopped. Taking a blanket, he wrapped her up and lay her in the bottom of the wagon, warm and comfortable. Here she had time to change her mind, knowing full well that by doing this he saved her from freezing when taken into the wagon.
I did not fair so well. Because of the continuous walking, and the bitter cold and snow, one of my feet developed frostbite so badly that I had to have two toes amputated upon our arrival in Salt Lake. I still had much to be thankful for. There were so many who lost their lives on that perilous journey. The most disastrous day was encountered in crossing the Rocky Ridge, where fifteen died of exposure and were placed in a shallow grave.

Suddenly my own trek to my promised land came into better focus. I am running by the wagon. I know where I want to be--I can see it--I am almost there. But I have to keep running. The Lord as the all knowling driver of the team knows when I am ready to come in the wagon. The running is making me stronger and more able to bare what is to come next. I don't want to freeze to death, nor fall by the wayside in despair. What may seem like pointless running is really what is saving me--it is my salvation. I thank my Lord for His all knowing love for keeping me from freezing--even though I have been through so much and want so badly to be in the wagon.

When the early saints were faced with unthinkable horrors the Lord raised an army--Zion's Camp. They thought they were going to save their fellow saints and take back what was theirs. They felt justified and divinely guided. And yet the purpose for Zion's Camp was very different from the Lord's perspective. When He disbanded His army He gave these reasons for what seemed to be a pointless excercise in futility:

"It is expedient in me that mine elders should wait for a little season for the redemption of Zion--That they themselves may be prepared, and that my people may be taught more perfectly, and have experience, and know more perfectly concerning their duty, and the things which I require at their hands . . . . For behold, I have prepared a great endowment and blessing to be poured out upon them, inasmuch as they are faithful and continue in humility before me . . . For behold, I do not require at their hands to fight the battles of Zion; for as I said in former commandment, even so will I fulfill--I WILL FIGHT YOUR BATTLES." (Doctrine and Covenants 105:9-10, 12, 14, emphasis added)

Through whatever pointless excercise of futility you are going--remember that the Lord is fighting our battles--we may not recognize it though. We may just feel like we are being made to run beside the wagon by a mean driver. He is not mean. He knows us. He can handle our anger because He knows what we are to become.

I close with some thoughts from President Uchtdorf from this month's Ensign:
"There may be times when we feel overwhelmed, hurt, or on the edge of discouragement as we are trying so hard to be perfect members of the church. Be assured, there is balm in Gilead. Let us listen to the prophets of our day as the help us to focus on the things that are central to the creator's plan for the eternal destiny of His children. The Lord knows us, He loves us, He wants us to succeed, and He encourages us by saying: "And see that all . . . things are done in wisdom and order; for it is not required that [men or women] should run faster than they have strength . . [But] it is expedient that [they] should be diligent."

We can do this.