Oh What Do You Do in the Summertime? Part 3

The man who walked the most miles, trying to capture for the kids their experiences through pictures

Mason's pride was the front of the cart. He loved leading his family forward, and feeling strong and helpful while doing it.

I was a lucky tag along. Taking pictures and cheering on those who were doing the really hard work. It was a great pleasure for me
to witness something so incredible as this Trek.

This summer, We TREK! John and I were lucky enough to be part of our Stake Pioneer Trek June 29-July2. Mason was lucky to be old enough to be part of the whole experience too. Days without showering, soaked through clothes and shoes (RAIN!) and lots of dust in our teeth was a small price to pay for the overwhelmingly amazing experience of being part of this incredible effort.

Over 200 adults took 4 days from their lives to provide a unique wilderness experience for 250 kids age 14-18. The kids were placed in 'families' with a 'ma and pa' (a married couple) to lead them. They hauled all their gear in a real live hand cart across a thousand acres of pasture. We saw no sign of 'civilization' for days, only the expanse of rolling hills and the crystal blue sky. The kids proved to themselves that they could do something difficult. And they learned again how to get along without cel phones or ipods. They played fun 'old fashioned' games like 'Tag' and 'Ninja' and they had a blast without remote controls or facebook pages.

They were also introduced to the idea of rescuing. Stories were told of handcart pioneers who were caught in early snows and who began to whither in their journey west. Many even perished. But a prophet sent men to rescue, to save those who were weak and wandering, and to bring them to a valley where they would be cared for and brought back from the promise of a frozen grave.

We have a prophet today; and he invites us all to rescue. To look out for the widow, the one who is lonely. The person who has little or the one who has wandered and whose heart has grown cold as stone. These kids, the ones pulling the handcarts? They (and all of the adults who walked with them) -and you too- are invited to become rescuers. Not from the frozen planes, but from a life of chilling emptiness.

I hope I can be a rescuer. I hope I can remember the strength in their souls when I meet a stranger in need, or when I think of a neighbor who could use my help. The example of those strong kids (my own son included) who committed themselves to helping and rescuing souls through the refinement of hard work and hand cart pushing will be in my mind when my turn to rescue has come.