Every year our stake (and probably most stakes around the country) has a 24th of July celebration. This is to commemorate the early saints arriving in Salt Lake City. As a child I looked forward to this celebration year round. I got to see all my friends in all the wards and we played at a park eating cotton candy and drinking home made root beer. In the last few years it has changed a bit in our stake and we now have a big breakfast. I attended last year and, like my youth, still love to see so many faces I cherish in one spot. My mom is the stake activities director so she was extremely busy. I, on the other hand, got to come enjoy the festivities. They put Brian to work moving tables, chairs, and filling water jugs. Also, they ran out of food so my parents dashed out to get some more. Mom was worried, but if you ask me, that was just a measurement of its success.
They had games, traditional and not so traditional, for the kids to play. They played music and had speakers and many dressed in pioneer clothing.
Xiana enjoyed herself and I hope that as she grows up here, she will also have fond memories of this event each year.
Got it!
Every four years our stake does a "trek" which is where they reenact the early settlers crossing the plains with handcarts. I didn't have the privilege of going this year, but Brian and I have already discussed how we want to participate in the next one. I said we could be ma and pa and he said we could be kids:) Though we weren't able to attend, for weeks we have heard multiple testimonies shared relating events that occurred, experiences, emotions, and confirmations of the spirit. For one thing, each of the some 400 people that went were real "characters." As in their lives were based on actual pioneers. They were grouped into families, given names and occupations and then, as the trek continued, they were informed of who lived and who died. Additionally, each of the 27 families carried and cared for a "baby." They were just dolls, but they had to provide for them, carry them, make room in their handcarts for their necessities. Sometimes their travels were delayed due to a baby being sick. All in all, they got a real appreciation for the lives of the saints they were living for a brief moment. I do not know what sadness was felt both in real life, and in the reenactment when they had a mass burial for a significant number of the babies. Nor do I know what it felt like to lose and bury your spouse, children, parents, or siblings. I heard one woman get choked up as she expressed her surprise when all her 5 girls and herself lived, but her strong husband died. True to their lives they also had the men leave to join troops. Thus, the woman had to pull the carts for a predetermined distance. So many woman in our congregation have spoken about how challenging that was, and how challenging it was for the men to be helpless, unable to help them through the rivers or up the hills. Yet, their knowledge that this would only be for a short time, I am sure, was comforting. To think of the courage and strength necessary for the true women crossing the plains, losing their husbands to war and their children to starvation is inconceivable. I think of their faith and it is humbling. Whenever I read journals, books, or messages from these saints I hear of their knowledge that: the work they did was crucial to the survival of God's church on this earth; and that their suffering was but only for a moment in the realm of things. I am grateful and overwhelmed by the sacrifices they made. Their innumerable sorrows, joys, and dedications make our sacrifices pale in comparison. I hope I will be brave like they were and have, even a morsel, of their faith.
They had games, traditional and not so traditional, for the kids to play. They played music and had speakers and many dressed in pioneer clothing.
Xiana enjoyed herself and I hope that as she grows up here, she will also have fond memories of this event each year.
Got it!
Every four years our stake does a "trek" which is where they reenact the early settlers crossing the plains with handcarts. I didn't have the privilege of going this year, but Brian and I have already discussed how we want to participate in the next one. I said we could be ma and pa and he said we could be kids:) Though we weren't able to attend, for weeks we have heard multiple testimonies shared relating events that occurred, experiences, emotions, and confirmations of the spirit. For one thing, each of the some 400 people that went were real "characters." As in their lives were based on actual pioneers. They were grouped into families, given names and occupations and then, as the trek continued, they were informed of who lived and who died. Additionally, each of the 27 families carried and cared for a "baby." They were just dolls, but they had to provide for them, carry them, make room in their handcarts for their necessities. Sometimes their travels were delayed due to a baby being sick. All in all, they got a real appreciation for the lives of the saints they were living for a brief moment. I do not know what sadness was felt both in real life, and in the reenactment when they had a mass burial for a significant number of the babies. Nor do I know what it felt like to lose and bury your spouse, children, parents, or siblings. I heard one woman get choked up as she expressed her surprise when all her 5 girls and herself lived, but her strong husband died. True to their lives they also had the men leave to join troops. Thus, the woman had to pull the carts for a predetermined distance. So many woman in our congregation have spoken about how challenging that was, and how challenging it was for the men to be helpless, unable to help them through the rivers or up the hills. Yet, their knowledge that this would only be for a short time, I am sure, was comforting. To think of the courage and strength necessary for the true women crossing the plains, losing their husbands to war and their children to starvation is inconceivable. I think of their faith and it is humbling. Whenever I read journals, books, or messages from these saints I hear of their knowledge that: the work they did was crucial to the survival of God's church on this earth; and that their suffering was but only for a moment in the realm of things. I am grateful and overwhelmed by the sacrifices they made. Their innumerable sorrows, joys, and dedications make our sacrifices pale in comparison. I hope I will be brave like they were and have, even a morsel, of their faith.
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