October Trek Day 2: Handcarts and Rock Creek Hollow

The Sermon family treks on through thick and thin!

Day 2 of Trek started bright and early with people getting ready at around 4:30 AM. I slept quite well after the shivering at the beginning of the night, but I still didn't want to get up in the morning. This was because that meant getting out into the unpleasant cold again! Somehow I resigned myself to exiting my now-warm sleeping bag. I quickly got dressed (no fun in the cold) and started working on packing up. I found that process more troublesome than expected. The three of us all trying to maneuver, dress, and pack up in a small space left a lot to be desired on the speed front. Still, it was nice having the time to bond more with Amy and Karen. Eventually, we all got our stuff out. Then it was time to get the tent down. The whole thing was covered with frost as we packed it up, but there was no time to do more than simply brush it off as best we could before packing it away.


After loading our sleeping gear onto the bus, it was time to get the rest of our stuff into our family carts. It was still quite dark, so while others were getting breakfast, I ended up fruitlessly searching over and over again for my family's cart or any of my family members, none of which could be found. I was getting pretty sick of roaming everywhere with my heavy pack, but finally I spotted our cart with the purple flag away from the rest. I grabbed a bit of breakfast and hurried over to get in line with everyone else, finding some of my family members for the first time that morning.

Finally all lined up and ready to go

We got a bit of instruction, had a prayer, then started out on the river trail that goes out from the Sixth Crossing. This was the section of the Mormon Trail the Saints covered after leaving that crossing area. At the beginning, the trail was quite pretty, running right along the banks of the Sweetwater. The dawn was also starting to break a little, so it got even more nice as we went along for a bit. Zac and I started out in the yoke with the rest of the family following behind. That section was pretty flat and easy, so we were able to take care of it on own own without a problem. We went for several miles before switching out.

During that time, everyone was in high spirits, so there was a lot of talking and laughing. The combination of the sun starting to rise and the physical exercise meant that we were able to start shedding some of our heavy layers along the way too. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it didn't take too long for the company to get pretty strewn out along the trail. We were situated in the front of the middle, and all our carts stayed fairly close together, but only a couple of carts behind us, things started to spread out. By the time we made our first switch, the last group was at least half a mile behind. More pauses along the way became necessary to give people a chance to catch up. The space gave us time to check out some of the cows and pronghorn that were grazing along the route.

Getting more spaced out as we went along the river

We kept trucking along at a decent pace until we hit the first sustained incline at about mile 5. Zac and I were back in the yoke at this point, but we definitely needed some help from the pushers to get up the hill. I've done a Trek before in Virginia, but that was a long time ago and, of course, in very different terrain, I still remembered, however, how miserable it is to get those heavily-laden carts up any sort of hill. They just don't want to move, and it's difficult to make them do so. It didn't help that the trail where we actually walked for that stretch was covered with sagebrush, so every step was threatening to break an ankle on uneven ground. Still, even with the difficulties, we managed to make it up as a family without too much trouble or time.

We were stopping for a bit longer at the top of that hill, so I ended up running back with a fair number of others in the front to help those who were still making their way up. I ended up pushing one of the bishopric's carts at the very back. I actually really dislike pushing overall as compared to pulling. Pushing is pretty much always a matter of putting your whole body, including your head, in a straight line to get the most power into it. This means you are starring straight at the ground for extended periods, while straining a lot more than you have to do while pulling.

Zac and I pulling followed by the rest of the family

I managed to help them get the cart up in this manner, but I just barely hung in there to do so. As we went up, I started feeling quite sick, and the feeling didn't go away as we reached the top. Fortunately, we were pausing so the senior missionary could talk to us for a bit when we got there. He told us how the hill we were standing on was the place where the first party of rescuers first got a look at the Willie company spread out across the valley. It was where they first got an idea of just how difficult the rescue would truly be. I could also imagine the suffering Willie company looking up to see those few riders on the hill. How joyful they must have felt! I'm sure flesh-and-blood men never looked more like angels than the rescuers appeared to the pioneers on that occasion. The elder then also compared that event to our own day and the rescues we are blessed to participate in.

I was doing my best to appreciate the moment there and feel the Spirit of the place, but it became increasingly difficult as the feeling of illness, which had at first subsided as we stopped moving, became increasingly intense. Partway through, I had to drop to a crouch to prevent myself from passing out. I stayed in that awkward position through the rest of the talk, and found that I was barely recovered enough to stand and move slowly again after it finished. I was pretty worried about it, as I really didn't want to end up on the Razor, or dune-buggy type thing, that was shuttling the sick or weary around. Even so, as I went back to the line-up, I was seriously considering asking for a ride as I was having trouble even walking.

Short break at the top of the first hill., where the rescuers first saw the Willie company. I'm in the teal coat and blue hat, almost dead center. Definitely wasn't feeling great here.

Even with my sad condition, I decided to see what taking some ibuprofen would do for me. I'd quite unwelcomely discovered that my period had started that morning, and I figured I might just be suffering the effects of that combined with the unusual physical exertion. Feeling completely terrible is one of the side effects I get from my period quite often, so this assumption didn't seem impossible. I also knew that if that were the case, ibuprofen is typically a sure-fire way to get myself back on track. So with faith that the medicine would take care of the pain, I slowly started out with my family.

Because I was in such poor condition, it wasn't long before I started lagging behind my family. I regretted this deeply, as I felt deeply my duty as a ma for them. It killed me that I couldn't help them, but I knew that I could do them no good until I gave myself time to recover a bit. A number of carts passed me by, including one that one of my new ward friends, Katie, was on. She left her cart to see how I was doing, and I explained my situation and my hope for an improvement in short order if I took it slow. She sympathized, and instead of just heading back to her cart once she knew what was going on, she stayed to walk and talk with me, slow as I was. Katie is a big hiker and certainly had no need at that point to take it easy herself, but I greatly appreciated her company and concern.

My friend, Katie, in the purple was a good support while I felt ill

We ended up in the very back where the bishopric was bringing up the rear. Bishop Lemon asked me how I was doing, and I admitted that I was struggling a bit, but also had confidence that I'd be better soon. He looked at me a little dubiously, and I was worried that he'd insist on me getting on the Razor. He'd told us that morning that he would do that to some, and we'd better not argue with him if he did it to us. Fortunately, he either believed me or the Spirit told him I'd be OK, because he let me be. Katie had left at that point, as someone had needed her elsewhere, but I was content with the chance to talk with Brother McDonald, Sister Birkeland, and Sister Lemon for awhile.

It took awhile, but fortunately, my prediction had been on the money, and I started to feel a bit better as we went on. I recovered gradually as we crossed the next 2 miles or so until I was in pretty decent shape again. Still, I was not in a condition to run and catch up with my family. We went up another hill, this one longer than the first, and I felt awful that I wasn't with them when they really needed my help. In my position, I didn't see how I was ever going to catch up with them again until we had a long stop. This made me quite sad, but imagine my delight as we crested the hill and I saw my family on the side of the trail waiting for me! In that moment, I truly felt the joy of having not been forgotten. It impressed upon me not only a small sense of the joy we can have in the remembrance that our Heavenly Father and Savior will never forget us, but also the importance of likewise remembering those in our real families and wards. It is our duty and privilege to actively seek them out and minister to their needs.

I was feeling a bit better here, but still taking it easy and lagging behind the rest.

Since I was feeling significantly better and we were ready to hit a downhill section, I gladly volunteered to make up for some of my absence by taking a turn in the yoke. After another 4 or 5 miles, it was time for lunch. This extended stop was quite welcome, as we'd pulled far enough that it was no longer quite as easy as it had been in the morning. Also, the terrain had become more challenging as we'd mostly left the river behind.

By that point, the weather was basically perfect. It was in the low 60's, which felt just right while pulling handcarts. Most people were down to a T-shirt and shorts. As we were eating, I thought about how grateful I was that we had such nice weather, rough though the nights were. Bishop Lemon had been telling us for months that he was praying for snow the whole way, but I'm glad that somehow our prayers had overridden his! I was also grateful that we weren't doing all this Trekking in pioneer clothing in addition to summer heat, like most people usually do it. Even from my Mutual Trek experience, I remembered how unpleasant that combo was! Modern gear made it much more tolerable.

Soon, we were back on the trail again, The terrain was growing ever more barren and hilly, so much more collaboration as a family was required to get our cart safely up and down the many slopes, some of which were quite steep. Along the way, I really enjoyed getting to know each of my family members a little more as we talked and worked together. Each of them has first-rate qualities, and I was delighted to see those attributes set off to best advantage in those circumstances.

Two of my "daughters," Sarah and Shanalee

One of my "daughters," Sarah, was having some knee pain that slowed her down somewhat, so when I wasn't in the yoke myself, I found myself lagging a bit behind the rest of the family to keep her company and ensure she was doing OK. That circumstance gave me a great opportunity to get to know her quite well on a number of levels. Because she is one of the ward missionaries I have a stewardship over, I felt especially grateful for the chance. It has made a big difference for me both on Trek and to this day. Our lagging also gave me a chance to get to know Sua, a Polynesian girl who had recently started attending our ward, better as well. She was dealing with some kind of injury which required her to take it more slow too, so she ended up near our cart as we were in the back of the line now. I'll talk more about her exciting story in a coming post.

People were starting to drop like flies as we went along this section of the trail. Many had ended up on the Razor, so some families were left with only a couple people doing all the pulling. Bishop had asked various people from families that were doing OK to go help some of the families that were having a rough time. Even with that redistribution along the way, some carts were having trouble. While we weren't the strongest family overall, everyone was doing well enough that we were keeping up a decent pace and no one had been lost.

This was the family I was able to help. They'd lost three of these folks to reassignment and sickness, leaving only three to pull at the end.

We were passing one cart that really looked like they were having a tough time. There was just one new brother from my ward left along with two sisters that I have visiting taught the entire time I've been in this ward. Because my own family was doing alright, I hopped over to assist this little group for the next stretch. I could tell the physical strain was starting to get to my sisters a least a bit. I probably helped in that area somewhat, but my goal was at least as much to lift their spirits, so I worked to keep up a lively banter with them all along the way. Having this chance to help others who were struggling brought to my mind those who had helped me when I was suffering earlier in the day. It also reinforced to me that often it is the little efforts of support that make the biggest difference, even if they don't do much to change the original burden. One of the lessons I want to remember is to never underestimate the importance of taking simple steps to lift others, even when their burdens seem huge, and what I can do seems insignificant. The Lord doesn't ask me to do it all, but He does expect me to do what little I can. Sometimes, those tiny things can open a door for others to better feel and access His perfect love and enabling power.

After awhile, we came to the longest and steepest incline of the trail that day. Most of the carts were partway up this hill by the time the last few carts, including my family and the one I was helping, were starting out. We could all tell that this was going to be a real challenge, just by looking up at the other stronger families struggling further along the incline. There were some expressions of dismay among those last few carts, but we all worked to rally each others' flagging spirits and strength and started up. We were making it alright at first, but then started to hit the really challenging sections where the pits and washes in the trail combined with the steep terrain to make the going very tough.

The hills were never easy for any of us.

My family was the first cart of the final group, so as I saw them struggling, I indicated to the family I'd been helping that I was going to run up to assist my family and would come back to help them once my family's cart was moved through some of the tougher stuff. They acknowledged this, so I went off to help my family push. One of the trail bosses who hadn't been assigned to a cart also soon came to assist, so with the extra manpower, we were able to make some good progress again. We'd gotten through much of the most challenging section, so I told the trail boss who'd helped us to go back to the cart I'd been on and help that small family. He left, and my family kept pushing forward together.

We were doing alright, but everyone was pretty exhausted after the exertion of the roughest section with still a fair amount of challenging incline left. I wasn't sure how we were going to make it, but just before our resolution really began to fail, a bunch of figures appeared over the crest of the hill. It was many of the people who had already successfully gotten their carts up. They certainly looked like angels to me at that moment, even more so because I knew that they were already tired from pushing their own carts up that hill. Back they came in a swarm, and soon there were and extra 3-5 people on each of the remaining carts. The extra manpower made the proposition much easier, and it wasn't long until every cart was in line again and a happy, though exhausted cheer rose from the ranks.

This is an example of our makeshift bathroom arrangements on the trail. Family members or friends just held up a tarp for you to do your business behind. You can't leave waste along the trail either, so you sat on a bucket with a bag and tied up the bag when you were done. Then everything got stuck back in your cart when you were done. Needless to say, I was exceedingly glad that I managed to not have to use this horrible arrangement personally. Thank you, dehydration!

Spirits were again lifted when the senior missionary who was guiding us said we didn't have that much farther to go to get to the highway. All of us, tired as we were, eagerly pushed up another small rise anticipating finding the buses waiting for us just over the top of it. Unfortunately, those hopes were dashed as we crested the hill. Instead of finding a paved highway like might have been expected, it turned out to be a dirt highway. Worse yet, instead of finding the buses right there waiting for us, we could see them parked about 4 miles distant down the road. It may as well have been a million miles, to me and virtually everyone else. We were all disappointed, but steeled ourselves to the task. There was nothing else to be done. The consolation I could find in this disappointment was that the road we still needed to traverse appeared to be almost all downhill.

I'll admit, those last few miles were not at all easy. It was difficult to buoy up both our physical energy and spirits. Almost everyone felt the same way about it. Still, we were all pretty tightly grouped in the company now, and it remained so for the last part, so though it wasn't easy for anyone, we were all actively offering support and consolation to each other from cart to cart and family to family. There was almost no murmuring, and everyone worked hard to make the best of the situation. That spirit of Zion was really the thing that kept us all moving forward along the way. Slowly, ever so slowly, those distant buses began to loom a little closer. Finally, we dragged ourselves over the last few hundred feet and arrived! Everyone got gear loaded into the buses and the carts were loaded onto a mission truck. We'd made it, beyond expectations, we'd made it over 17 miles of Mormon Trail!

The trekking never ends, as it seemed

Everyone was dead tired. As we drove over the same stretch of the "highway" we'd just covered, the vast majority of people on the buses fell asleep. We all needed it. I was very tired too, but I found that sleep wasn't in the cards for me on that ride as we drove for about 2 hours to our camping destination for the night. As soon as we got going, our driver, Kathleen, asked about what we'd been up to that day. No doubt she could see how beat up everyone looked. I told her about what we'd done, the challenges we'd faced, and how rewarding it had been to walk in the footsteps of the pioneers. She was impressed that we'd done so much and expressed satisfaction that the efforts of the pioneers were being remembered.

I knew a bit about Kathleen from the ride up, but there was still a lot about her I didn't know. I figured she was probably a member, coming from the Utah County area, but I wasn't sure. I began to seriously doubt that as we talked about the pioneers. She clearly was at least aware of them and some of their sacrifices, but didn't seem to know much about their specifics. I filled her in on some of their stories, sharing some of the common knowledge along with many of the little gems I'd learned from The Price We Paid and the other resources I'd read. She was quite interested, and we had a good dialogue about the pioneers.

During our discussion of the pioneers, we exchanged many thoughts and feelings about the goodness of God and His mercies. From the way she expressed herself, I suspected she was probably some kind of Evangelical Christian, and impression that was borne out when she eventually told me about her church and some of the things she did there. She also ended up sharing with me many of the struggles God had helped her through in her life, the most serious of which had been watching her daughter battle cancer. She described how, in that process, she'd seen many miracles as God protected and assisted her daughter and the whole family. Kathleen also described her own personal struggles after going through a divorce and several difficult dating relationships in subsequent years. We exchanged our feelings on the importance of faith in the midst of trials and a mutual assurance that God is ever merciful.

Buses have never looked so good at the end of a long day. Even the Bishopric agrees!

As we got closer to our destination, Kathleen mentioned that we'd be passing a ghost town she and her father used to visit every year as he'd grown up there. She described how her relationship with her father had been a difficult one, as he was not a practicing Christian and was a heavy drinker. Despite the issues and resentments she sometimes dealt with regarding him, she said she always appreciated those trips and the memories associated with them since it provided a time where they could really bond in positive ways. Since he has passed away, those memories have become all the more precious.

In speaking of her father, Kathleen expressed fear that his soul may be in trouble, because he did a lot of bad things and wasn't a committed Christian. I was a bit hesitant, but felt impressed that I should share some specific thoughts with her on the subject. I testified of the eternal nature of families and also my conviction that God has a plan designed to redeem all his willing children, including baptism for the dead to extend all his covenants with those who repent in the next life. She listened attentively and without argument, but made little comment on the specifics, so I wasn't sure what good I'd done. Baptism for the dead is certainly not a principle that I typically share with people early in gospel discussions, but I couldn't help myself in this scenario. It simply felt like I was supposed to. I prayed that if I was improperly receiving that inspiration, that the Lord would at least prevent it from causing damage if it could do no good.

A lot of people were sleeping on the buses, even the Lemons!

Not long after this thread of conversation, my "husband," Sean, who'd been sleeping up to that point, unexpectedly leaned up and joined in the dialogue. We weren't too far from our destination then, but I was still really grateful to have his support. By then, I was feeling the effects of not just the prolonged physical exertion, but also prolonged spiritual exertion. He came in with a renewed vigor that allowed me to gratefully transfer some of the conversation to him, which gave me a much needed chance to simply offer input rather than playing point guard.

After a while, we made it to the Rock Creek Hollow campground. Not much daylight was left when we got there, so there was a pretty urgent need to get the tents pitched immediately as all had been packed at least somewhat wet. With the same attitude of service that had existed the first night, all the tents were up before long. After getting ours up, I happened to discover as I was moving stuff inside that there was something seriously hard and raised underneath part of our tent. It felt like a rock, though we hadn't been able to see one as we pitched the tent. With the help of a handy brother, we were able to raise the tent up again only to find that the "rock" was, in fact, a steel tent stake almost fully driven into the ground. It must have been left by some camper the past summer. Having no success getting it removed myself, another brother jumped in and managed to work it out, much to our delight.

Everyone was very hungry, but Bishop felt that it was important for us to see Rock Creek Hollow in the last dying light of the day, so we gathered quickly at the gate, where the senior missionary bore his testimony to us and told us how President Hinckley, when he visited that site, said that it is, beyond the temples, one of the few places where Christ has literally walked and lingered, making it sacred ground. It was to this natural enclave that the beleaguered Willie company resorted after traversing Rocky Ridge, the highest point of the Mormon Trail, in unimaginably difficult circumstances. 13 members of the company died in this location, and were buried here.

In complete silence, sensing the holiness of the place, as a group we filled into this hallowed place, pausing in small groups to read the plaque commemorating the dead and pay our respects. Though all were starving, there was no rush for anyone to beeline toward the hearty dinner that was waiting already prepared for us. The subdued tone persisted as we returned and did eat. Joviality simply felt out of place in that moment.

Rock Creek Hollow

After dinner, we traveled silently through the dark of Rock Creek Hollow to reach the location of our fireside, where the Bishop was waiting, on the other side of the creek. We quietly filed in, tired, but excited to see what was in store for us that night. Once we'd all sat down, Bishop asked Viry, one of the food planners for Trek, to pass out some cakes that she'd prepared for us. She got started a bit, but it was clear that we were all meant to get one, and it would definitely have taken forever for her to do it alone to the whole crowd.

I was on the front row just watching as she began this process, and seeing the magnitude of it, wanted to give her a hand, but wasn't sure that it was my place to do so. A split second after I had that thought, she simply whispered, "help!" with a look of quiet desperation. That was enough reinforcement for me, so I immediately jumped up to give her a hand as did one other sister. Even with the three of us passing them out, it took about 5 minutes to get them all distributed.

As I was handing out the cakes, one thing that really impressed me was the true spirit of gratitude apparent in everyone. Almost every person I handed a cake to said a very sincere thank you with a smile, as if I was giving them a real treasure, and I could feel the true gratitude radiating out from them. It was a profound experience in that simple moment, and I was struck with my own strong wave of gratitude that I happened to be perfectly positioned such that I had the privilege to serve them. It was a perfectly clear instance, in my mind, of how richly both a giver and a recipient can be blessed when both fulfill their role under the influence of the Spirit. I felt impressed that this is the exact relationship I can and should have with my Savior as I more perfectly strive to receive His grace freely given. I hope to do so with the same frank and deep gratitude I felt from my brothers and sisters that night.

Bishop began by saying that he knew just how tired and beat down we all were, but he expressed gratitude for the good spirit that had been maintained throughout the day. He described how much it meant to him to see everyone so diligently and freely looking for ways to serve one another. He then called our minds to just how hungry we all were when we finally got into camp. Though we had been properly fed, he invited us to then eat the cakes we'd been given. Each had been made of 4 ounces of flour and water, the exact ration that the Willie pioneers got to revitalize them after a full day of pulling like we'd done. He asked that we all try to eat the full cake to appreciate what it was like for them.

The truth is, I was surprised that the cake didn't taste more terrible than it did. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't good, but it was at least edible. I didn't have to gag it down. Still, it was entirely sobering to think of only having that sustenance to power you through a full day of pulling, day after day, with only the promise of further ration cuts to look forward to. It reinforced just how desperately those suffering saints were in need of rescue. I'm sure such a situation would have killed me pretty quickly.

As we ate, Bishop felt inspired to have about 5 people come up and share their experiences from the day. Each experience and testimony was powerful in its own way, most speaking about the power that chances to serve had had during their day. Most memorable to me was the testimony of a girl from the Layton ward who started by pointing out that she wasn't wearing any shoes as her feet were too swollen to fit into any at the moment. She then described how she had been obliged by illness to ride in the Razor for the last leg of the trail, though she was initially very reluctant to accept that help. As she made that journey, though, she realized that the Razor was like the assistance offered by Christ. Though we don't always appreciate or recognize our need in the moment, Christ is always ready to pick us up and bring us quickly to safety when we, in reality, aren't capable of traveling that distance any other way. Rather than resisting Him or begrudging our own weakness, we need to humbly and gratefully accept His help, then enjoy the ride. She emphasized that there is no reason to regret our infirmity and weakness, rather we should rejoice that they allow us to draw close to Christ.

Here's the 4 ounce bag of flour we were given as a remembrance. Missionary tag included to show size, but there could be some unintended symbolism there as well. 

After all the invited speakers had finished, Bishop talked to us about consecration, both how the pioneers consecrated themselves and how we can do so today. He also talked about the price which the pioneers paid for that consecration, in the form of freezing and starving as well as watching their loved ones also freeze and starve. To help us remember the extent of the pioneers' consecration, each of us was given 4 ounces of flour in a little bag, or the daily ration the Willie company received at the end, to take home.

Once the fireside was finished, everyone quietly filed back toward camp to get ready for bed. I lingered a bit to help Viry with the clean-up of the left-over flour cakes. A few others were also there, but it ended up being good I'd hung around because I had brought my flashlight, which ended up being very much needed, as the others hadn't brought one.

It was very peaceful walking back through Rock Creek Hollow in the velvety darkness. The river lent a peaceful, solemn sound to the place, and I reflected upon how it provided an essential life-line to the saints in many ways, giving not just hydration, but also direction, yet it also threatened to take many lives every time they had to cross icy waters. I think that's a pretty apt analogy for our mortal trials. In a multitude of ways, they are absolutely essential for our eternal exaltation. Without them, we couldn't hope to become like our Father in Heaven, because it is in the midst of them that we become most acquainted with Him, yet those trials often exact a heavy personal price.

The Wyoming nights were always spectacularly beautiful.

Even so, just as the pioneers would have been foolish to curse the rivers that provided much good to them along with sorrows, we also make a mistake when we begrudge the tribulations we are asked to pass through. I feel that an essential part of consecration involves not just dedicating our means and time to God, but also giving our heart and innermost self to Him. As we grow more perfect in consecration, we're able to weather both the lows and highs of life more philosophically, because once we give our hearts to the Lord, we are able to see more clearly from His perspective. With that clearer view, we can see that in every event in mortal life, normally seen as "good" or "bad," what really matters is our choice in how we react to it. What really makes an event good or bad is whether we allow it to draw us closer to God or to distance us from Him. A lot of that boils down to the attitude we choose to adopt in any scenario.

The pioneers were a great example of how to accomplish this form of consecration. The vast majority of them never regretted or begrudged what they were put through on the plains. They appreciated how it allowed them to know God better. This is an approach I am working harder to adopt in my own life. It isn't entirely easy, but it's certainly worth the effort.

Back at camp, I ended up at the bonfire built there to soak up some more warmth. I suppose I felt the same reluctance many felt toward going to bed right away, Don't get me wrong, we were all exhausted in every sense of the word, but it indeed seemed a shame to sleep away the precious moments in that place and moment in time. Instead, many were gathered just enjoying each other's company. The time there was brief, but delightful. I spent a good amount of it talking to one of the recently reactivated guys I'd worked with over the past 6 months or so. It was lovely to chat with him about his experiences thus far and to see the depth of the progress he's made.

Amy and me on the trail, her in her pioneer bonnet and me in my modern one, which I'm wearing backward for some reason. Her family was right behind mine early in the day.

I also spent some time hanging around with my two "daughters" that come from my ward. Both are young and preparing for missions, and I find their unguarded enthusiasm and openness very refreshing. They told me about their experience singing in General Conference once upon a time. About this time, a hymn-singing duet accompanied by a violinist unexpectedly started up. It ended up being the brain child of our Ward Mission Leader, whom I work with a lot, and Sean. Once they started singing, it turned into a bit of a campfire sing-a-long with many joining in. The spirit of the whole thing was quite unique. It was similar to what I would always feel on the mission when there was any kind of missionary gathering, though it had a somewhat different flavor. I think it similarly stemmed from a sense of satisfaction in being with fellow laborers enjoying each other's company after a period of diligent, inspired work. It was pleasant to have that sense anew.

The whole pow-wow lasted maybe an hour, after which everyone really was ready for bed. I wandered back to my tent where I did some personal study followed by some daily decompressing with Amy. Karen was there at first, but she had decided to sleep in the Birkeland's car that night after having a rough time the night before due in part to some medicine she was taking. It was, again, a pleasure to exchange thoughts on the day with Amy. Her reflections helped to enrich the experience for me. Soon, I was snug in my bag, with no repeat of the freezing of the night before thanks to Amy's blanket plus a few extra layers everywhere I could manage. I was so tired, I fell sound asleep in no time, anticipating what the new day would bring!