When pioneers moved to the West...

I come from a very reputable pioneer line. I am aware that this mean absolutely nothing to anyone unless you are from Utah. Still it means something and so I'm posting about it. My several greats grandfather was a man by the name of Stillman Pond. (A great pioneer name, isn't it)? Stillman joined the LDS church and was called to move his family in the great trek west. Being the faithful man he was, Stillman answered the call. He left his comfortable home in September 1846 and started across the plains to Utah. He spent the winter in Winter Quarters before completing the trek. At Winter Quarters and on the plains, Stillman lost his wife and nine of his children. Despite such tragedy he completed his journey and became a key settler of the Cache Valley. His story is a part of church and family lore. We were told it often as children and it never really mattered that much. I was thinking of him today though and how he continued even with such tremendous loss. It is a story I appreciate more as an adult.

Personally, if I had been a pioneer, I would have probably gotten to Wyoming and said, "You're joking, right?" I can see myself sitting next to a sagebrush and refusing to go on. I'm just that stubborn. I can also see myself continuing to walk in spite of the long spanse of nothing towards the promise of a promised land. The paradox between the two seems wide, but chances are the stubborn streak that would make refuse to continue would also be the reason I would carry on. I have serious issues with failing. I would want to sit down. I would continue to walk.

I like to think I got some of that stubborn determination from my ancestors. Maybe old Stillman carried on simply because he had too. I am sure he wanted to sit by the sagebrush and quit. Maybe he moved forward only because his stubborn streak wouldn't let him stop. I think faith is like that sometimes--continuing to walk into the unknown because we have too; because there is something inside of us that won't let us quit. Much of my life has been spent walking into the unknown and I don't suppose my experience is unique. I keep walking because their is something inside me that won't let me sit down in the sand. I am propelled by the promise of something more; some part of my life and myself I haven't seen yet or haven't become. I wonder what life still has in store for me and I keep walking just so I can find out.