Our five big kids got home from the Martin's Cove pioneer handcart trek a couple hours ago. One who was sure she didn't want to go had a giant smile on her face and told me how wonderful it was and that we were right when we said she'd love it. (Ah, I love these rare moments of parental right-ness!) Another kid who was on the fence said he was miserable the entire time, but when I peppered him with questions about the experience, it was clear he'd had at least a few positive moments. All came home beyond sunburned, which I was worried about. But they're home, and they're safe, and they're generally happy. All are showered and drastically less stinky. I hope they'll remember this experience throughout their lives, and that they'll reflect on the sacrifices of their pioneer ancestors. Pushing a handcart 8 miles is one thing, but pushing one day after day, with all your earthly possessions, through the mud, snow, rain and heat, with too little to eat and loved ones dying along the way - that's a whole different thing. I hope they realize that it was FAITH that drove those people to leave all that they knew and go west, in search of religious freedom. I hope that they never take their own faith, and the ability to worship God as they please, for granted.
Hopefully I'll have some pictures to share soon. :o)
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