Martin's Cove
[Taken from a Sunday talk that I gave last week.]
-----------------------------------------------------
"The week before the Martin’s cove I went to EFY and was hanging out with my roommate and his sister waiting for his shuttle to come get him and he and his sister were complaining about how when they got home their bishop would commence the torture of selecting someone to talk about their EFY experience. I laughed at them. Well, a few hours later my mom showed up with my sister and they told me that the second I got home I had to start packing for Martins cove. One handcart, two sets pioneer clothing, and a plate of sandy spaghetti later the bishop asked me to talk about my Martin's cove experience. So I guess the first thing I learn is how to jinx yourself into a Sunday talk.
The first day was an early morning wake up call to board the bus. Riding the bus wasn’t too pleasant because I was in the back of the bus where the beehives wouldn’t stop talking. It was hard for anyone to fall asleep as they rambled on and on. Lesson number two, you could say, was patience with girls. When we got to the site we were organized into families, given a handcart, and walked to the campgrounds. Pitching up tents was a nightmare for many families because of how hard the wind was blowing. Some had to wait for the winds to die down and others had their tents ripped or damaged severely. It was cool to see people from other families helping each other. That seemed to teach our even though we’re all in different families physically, spiritually we’re all one big family—which means that no one gets left behind and everyone needs looking after.
The next day we visited some pioneer history stations on the trail. I ended up learning a lot about the pioneers while visiting the different stations that were available on the trek. I don’t have any pioneers that crossed the plains in my ancestry—even though sometimes it feels like everyone else does—so I don’t hear a lot of those stories. I learned many stories of their bravery and their courage. It taught me a lot about the legacies we leave behind for our children and how the memories we leave behind for our kids make our lives have more meaning and worth. That means that we should be being good examples for our future generations and tell our story—like keep a journal.
I personally have kept a journal since I was eight and every few weeks I update it and talk about everything from my personal thoughts to my social dramas with friends to spiritual lessons. My main reason for working so hard on my journals is so that my kids will understand me better. Maybe when they’re going through something hard in their life at school or something they’ll never have to say—Dad won’t understand because they’ve read my journals and know that I’ve been there.
When we all were walking through Martin’s Cove, there was a very distinct, divine peace that settled in the air. I don’t think it’s possible that there was a single soul who walked through the Cove feeling nothing. Every single person felt something. It’s impossible to deny the feeling that was there in that sacred, hollow ground. All I could think about was how Brigham Young dedicated the site, which seemed to me to make it almost like an outside temple. As I walked, I recalled all the stories I’d ever heard about the pioneers and suddenly I was overcome with the Spirit. I developed an adore for the pioneers that goes far beyond a respect and admiration—I was full of love for them, as if I had personally been associated with them. It was a deeply spiritual feeling and I was grateful for it.
That evening was a testimony meeting, where the Spirit was present and many bore their testimonies. Everyone heard Peter Clegg’s “bus-or-walk” question—a question that came to him earlier in the day. The thought was that the bus came and you were given the option of walking all the way back home or taking the bus, and what three things would motivate you to walk home. That challenge was thought provoking for everybody listening.
After a good night’s sleep and one last long walk pushing the handcarts the next day we got on the bus and finally made it back home in one piece.
In closing, I want to bear my testimony of the stuff I learned. I know that we are all children of God, and that we have to help each other get back home or our salvation will mean nothing. I know that our future generations will look to us and that we must make sure our choices leave behind a good example to follow. I am grateful for this newfound love for the pioneers hereto unexpressable.I love the pioneers that died in the Martin and Willie handcart companies and also love the modern day pioneers in my own family—my mom and dad, who converted to the church and overcame their set of trials and tribulations. And I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen."
-----------------------------------------------
Bring Them In—Nancy Hanson
Song For Martin's Cove, EFY 2002 "We Believe" soundtrack
November 1856, just west of Devil's Gate
A place they now call Martin's Cove—sacred ground of fate
Some hours ago we somehow crossed Sweetwater sheets of ice
At times it took away your breath
At times it took your life.
The sky is growing dark again, there's little food to eat
The chilling winds cut to the bone
I cannot feel my feet
I know that Zion lays just ahead as I rest and close my eyes
Will I wake to see the morn? Or maybe paradise?
And tonight I dream of Kirtland, Zions Camp's holy test
I dream of Independence, Liberty and Far West
Tonight I dream of Nauvoo—Brother Joseph's iron will
Tonight I dream of Carthage, and how we miss him still
And tonight I dream of Bethlehem, Nazareth and Galilee
Tonight I dream of miracles from our Master and our King
So where it starts to whispers and it turns to shouts so clear,
Wake up, wake up—it's not a dream
The valley boys are here...
And now it's me who walks these steps just west of Devil's Gate
A place they now call Martin's Cove—sacred ground of fate
In silence and in reverence, Sweetwater we now cross
And hear the echo of their prayers
Their tears and their loss
And night still needs the light that shines, it's truth we need to share
To honor those who came this way
We'll lift up and we'll care
On our backs and in our hearts, we'll carry and proclaim
And head a prophet's call once more: Go bring them in from the plains...
Go bring them in from the plains, go bring them in from the storm
Like a fire the Spirit's burning—bring them in and keep them warm
Go bring them in from the plains, go bring them in from the cold
Wrap your loving arms around them and bring His peace to their souls.
-----------------------------------------------------
"The week before the Martin’s cove I went to EFY and was hanging out with my roommate and his sister waiting for his shuttle to come get him and he and his sister were complaining about how when they got home their bishop would commence the torture of selecting someone to talk about their EFY experience. I laughed at them. Well, a few hours later my mom showed up with my sister and they told me that the second I got home I had to start packing for Martins cove. One handcart, two sets pioneer clothing, and a plate of sandy spaghetti later the bishop asked me to talk about my Martin's cove experience. So I guess the first thing I learn is how to jinx yourself into a Sunday talk.
The first day was an early morning wake up call to board the bus. Riding the bus wasn’t too pleasant because I was in the back of the bus where the beehives wouldn’t stop talking. It was hard for anyone to fall asleep as they rambled on and on. Lesson number two, you could say, was patience with girls. When we got to the site we were organized into families, given a handcart, and walked to the campgrounds. Pitching up tents was a nightmare for many families because of how hard the wind was blowing. Some had to wait for the winds to die down and others had their tents ripped or damaged severely. It was cool to see people from other families helping each other. That seemed to teach our even though we’re all in different families physically, spiritually we’re all one big family—which means that no one gets left behind and everyone needs looking after.
The next day we visited some pioneer history stations on the trail. I ended up learning a lot about the pioneers while visiting the different stations that were available on the trek. I don’t have any pioneers that crossed the plains in my ancestry—even though sometimes it feels like everyone else does—so I don’t hear a lot of those stories. I learned many stories of their bravery and their courage. It taught me a lot about the legacies we leave behind for our children and how the memories we leave behind for our kids make our lives have more meaning and worth. That means that we should be being good examples for our future generations and tell our story—like keep a journal.
I personally have kept a journal since I was eight and every few weeks I update it and talk about everything from my personal thoughts to my social dramas with friends to spiritual lessons. My main reason for working so hard on my journals is so that my kids will understand me better. Maybe when they’re going through something hard in their life at school or something they’ll never have to say—Dad won’t understand because they’ve read my journals and know that I’ve been there.
When we all were walking through Martin’s Cove, there was a very distinct, divine peace that settled in the air. I don’t think it’s possible that there was a single soul who walked through the Cove feeling nothing. Every single person felt something. It’s impossible to deny the feeling that was there in that sacred, hollow ground. All I could think about was how Brigham Young dedicated the site, which seemed to me to make it almost like an outside temple. As I walked, I recalled all the stories I’d ever heard about the pioneers and suddenly I was overcome with the Spirit. I developed an adore for the pioneers that goes far beyond a respect and admiration—I was full of love for them, as if I had personally been associated with them. It was a deeply spiritual feeling and I was grateful for it.
That evening was a testimony meeting, where the Spirit was present and many bore their testimonies. Everyone heard Peter Clegg’s “bus-or-walk” question—a question that came to him earlier in the day. The thought was that the bus came and you were given the option of walking all the way back home or taking the bus, and what three things would motivate you to walk home. That challenge was thought provoking for everybody listening.
After a good night’s sleep and one last long walk pushing the handcarts the next day we got on the bus and finally made it back home in one piece.
In closing, I want to bear my testimony of the stuff I learned. I know that we are all children of God, and that we have to help each other get back home or our salvation will mean nothing. I know that our future generations will look to us and that we must make sure our choices leave behind a good example to follow. I am grateful for this newfound love for the pioneers hereto unexpressable.I love the pioneers that died in the Martin and Willie handcart companies and also love the modern day pioneers in my own family—my mom and dad, who converted to the church and overcame their set of trials and tribulations. And I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen."
-----------------------------------------------
Bring Them In—Nancy Hanson
Song For Martin's Cove, EFY 2002 "We Believe" soundtrack
November 1856, just west of Devil's Gate
A place they now call Martin's Cove—sacred ground of fate
Some hours ago we somehow crossed Sweetwater sheets of ice
At times it took away your breath
At times it took your life.
The sky is growing dark again, there's little food to eat
The chilling winds cut to the bone
I cannot feel my feet
I know that Zion lays just ahead as I rest and close my eyes
Will I wake to see the morn? Or maybe paradise?
And tonight I dream of Kirtland, Zions Camp's holy test
I dream of Independence, Liberty and Far West
Tonight I dream of Nauvoo—Brother Joseph's iron will
Tonight I dream of Carthage, and how we miss him still
And tonight I dream of Bethlehem, Nazareth and Galilee
Tonight I dream of miracles from our Master and our King
So where it starts to whispers and it turns to shouts so clear,
Wake up, wake up—it's not a dream
The valley boys are here...
And now it's me who walks these steps just west of Devil's Gate
A place they now call Martin's Cove—sacred ground of fate
In silence and in reverence, Sweetwater we now cross
And hear the echo of their prayers
Their tears and their loss
And night still needs the light that shines, it's truth we need to share
To honor those who came this way
We'll lift up and we'll care
On our backs and in our hearts, we'll carry and proclaim
And head a prophet's call once more: Go bring them in from the plains...
Go bring them in from the plains, go bring them in from the storm
Like a fire the Spirit's burning—bring them in and keep them warm
Go bring them in from the plains, go bring them in from the cold
Wrap your loving arms around them and bring His peace to their souls.
posted by Alexander at 5:26 PM
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