I saw a play last night based on the journal entries of Patience Loader, an English pioneer who traveled with her family across the plains with the Willie Martin Handcart Company. She and her family were following the call to religious freedom. Unfortunately, they left too late in the year and became subject to a merciless Wyoming winter. Their struggles, suffering and faith are a strength to me.
My grandpa just had major surgery on Friday. At the moment he is not permitted to eat or drink anything. He is so thirsty and hungry. Granted, we are so thankful he made it through surgery, still I feel so bad for him! There is nothing worse to me than desert-mouth! It would be the ultimate hell. Having visited him in recovery an hour before going to the play, it caused the pioneers predicament to feel all the more real. I could envision in a personal way, what it would be like to harbor a gnawing want for sustenance.
The bishop of my homeward says there is a reason for trials- with special reference to the physical trials that come with old age/physical deterioration. He feels the reason must be to give us a greater appreciation for our resurrected bodies- when we have them...
I love the pioneer heritage of the Church of Jesus Christ. I loved the last scene of the play where an angel and father Loader's spirit appeared, heavenly helpers assisting the starving frozen family with their handcart which became entrenched in the frostbitten ground.
We are all pioneers in some way. May we forge good paths and keep the faith.
God bless those pioneers and my grandpa.
