Onward Christian Soldiers, part one.

The eighth to the eleventh. The pioneer trek.
Prologue:

Four days that in many ways, felt like forever, and, I was soon to learn, sometimes I wish they'd lasted months. This was a highlight of my summer, because of what I learned of spiritual things, through symbolic reenactment, about myself, my legacy of faith and my own spirit and capacity-  and that of my 'brothers and sisters'---

We woke up at 4:45pm and arrived at out church house at 5:00pm, waiting for some others. Joseph looks like a real pioneer, doesn't he? Some boys looked quite modern, and many quite hillbilly. 
Joseph and I load on my seminary teacher's bus with the rest of our friends that have gone with us, to drive to Lebanon.
It was a long drive. At least it sure felt like it.
When we got to the destination where we would be put onto tour buses and sorted into our trek families, Joseph and I were lucky to be put on the same bus. But before that, I went to the church house bathroom. A big mirror, one last time. And plumbing. I hadn't really seen how I looked in my pioneer dress, and when I did, I saw Little Bo Peep. Ha! As heroine of this personal pioneer history, I was sorta cute. My mother and young woman's president had told me so, and of course I wanted to see for my self.

In the bus Joseph and I sat together, for a little while.

And then Joseph saw a friend of his, someone who hadn't ever gone to youth conference before like himself. I guess Joseph thought he looked lonesome. Because he abandoned me for a good term of friendliness.We hadn't been sorted into our families yet, and no matter how it would be, we had been told that as real brother/sister, we would not be in the same family. And we were not so likely to be paired with friends from our ward, either.
So, I sat down by myself. Getting used to missing him.  Joseph's kind of my twin-friendly-enemy-friend. You know, actually a pretty good brother. I watched as people passed me, noticing that,  if you had a chance you wouldn't consider sitting by a stranger if you could sit by your friends. I had friends on the same bus that got in earlier than I did and were already seated in the back. Dang.

And then a guy came and gestured to the empty seat next to me.
"Is anyone sitting there?"
 If I was in a joking mood, I would have said, "Casper, you're going to get sat on."
But I said,
"No."
"Do you mind?" The guy asked.
I shook my head. "No."
He was dressed straight pioneer, very nice. And he was cute. Nice plus, but not necessary for good company. Nice, however, is.  He sat down and tucked his lunch under his seat. When he straightened, a voice in my head told me, "That is your trek Big Brother." Did I know we were going to have Big Brothers? No.
Wow, okay...

None of us had any family yet. I didn't take the voice seriously. And then someone, a friend of his, called him to sit with him. So he got up and left.
And then a friend of mine, came to sit by me. We had a nice time talking for a little bit, and then he had me to draw a picture for him. So I started a horse head portrait from the side view. Of course. Horse.

As soon as the bus started we were called into our families. The Ma's and Pa's called names on their list, that moment was very tension-filled. I really wanted to be in the same family as at least one of my friends from Super Saturday, the one sitting by me especially. He's good company and friendly with everyone, and he treats the gospel as something good that should be lived. So I figured, a good hand to have on a long  pull.
He was one of the first names to be called. And his new Ma finished reading her list.

Oh, now I am doomed. He went to sit with his family, but left his sketch book for me to finish.
I listened as every one in the bus was called, rose and sat with their new families. And Joseph. But my name hadn't been called. Was I on the wrong bus? I saw the guy that the voice in my head had been talking to me about. He sat by his own family. And then they were done calling.

 Oh no, I was on the wrong bus, how dreadful!
And then one Ma stood up.
"I am so sorry, but I have forgotten my list, so everyone that is left, you are probably with us."
Phew!
 I sat at the front with them. I had just gotten to know some a little, when suddenly another Ma stood up. We had been moving for at least twenty minutes.

She said, "We're missing somebody, a Tali Brinkerhoff," she searched the face of all the pioneer passengers. My goodness, that was me! I stood up. And finally sat with the right family. I suppose the reason I didn't hear my name the first time was because they must have mispronounced it, the Brinkerhoff part. Or, maybe they didn't see it on the list and it wasn't called at all until they realized they were a kid short.  I was introduced to them. My sisters, my brothers, my Big Sister, and, surprise surprise, my Big Brother.  He smiled at me.


That's when the light turned on.
Oh, I get it, that was the Holy Ghost! it was the same guy where the Holy Ghost had said,
"That  is your trek big brother." Well, I usually don't get communication from the Spirit that way. It is usually far more subtle! And picks far different kinds of things!

Well, we took the first letter of every one's last  name and made up the name Bogdants. One of my sisters had been one of my  JC's at girls camp before. I remembered another one for hiking in a tutu last year at camp. And I had danced with one of my trek brothers at Super Saturday last year.
But that was all we had in common, to begin with.

To begin with!

(Now hang  on the handcart with me here, 

this blog-journal entry will be some 11 other posts long!

It gets better, and worse. And it's worth it, I promise. I pulled through it!)

On our first day, as soon as we got to the ranch place where the trek was to be held, we were chased out by mobs as soon as our stuff was on the cart. Some hadn't finished loading their cart. But for the moment of peace before, here's a cool picture I took.

Here, the guy in the red shirt that looks like John Wayne, is my boss ,(I work at his trail riding, horse camp ranch during modern times some 200 years in the future) and his trusty farm hand in the gray shirt. They must be talking about the harvest this year. Doesn't look good. Or maybe about the mobs, perhaps the farm hand has spotted them and has ridden back to tell us.

Well, when we were out of the mob's sight, our red shirt trail boss,

read a letter from the Prophet Brigham Young, calling all the Pa's and brothers in the company to the Mormon Battalion, the only religious military unit in our country's history.

Leaving wagon trains and families for their women to handle. Leaving for Mexico. Leaving for service to the country that had tolerated their persecution, ignored their pleas for protection, but a country and a flag they still loved, and a constitution they still believed in. And a prophet like Moses,  whose words they believed, when he said, go, and if you are faithful, not one will die in battle. So, in the real 1840's, some  550 men and boys left their families en route on the plains, having been driven outside the country's borders, 2000 miles away from their future settlement carved out of the unwanted  inter-mountain west, a 2000 mile colonizing march before them. BUT  Now? Why now? Now this I knew about.

(Last year I wrote a paper on the Mormon Battalion. I have grandpas who  volunteered.That research came in handy, for I had actually written the letter Boss was now reading from Brigham Young. As a work assignment from the trail boss one day, weeks earlier. Shh. Don't tell. )
But now? We weren't even warmed up. And on the the battalion went, off with their guns, every single Boy and Man.

Well, good bye, just-met trek Pa, brothers, and big brother.

And trail Boss on his paint, Zach