Here’s A Little Challenge For You. Don’t Worry, You Can Do It!

Written by Rich Harshaw.

What a difference a day can make. Just 24 hours.

Read the two journal entries below from an 1856 Mormon handcart pioneer and you’ll see what I mean:

“Suffice it to say that all the disgusting scenes which the reader might imagine would certainly not equal the terrible reality. It was enough to make the heavens weep. The recollection of it unmans me even now.”

-John Chislett, Monday, October 20, 1856

“Shouts of joy rent the air; strong men wept till tears ran freely down their furrowed and sun-burnt cheeks, and little children partook of the joy which some of them hardly understood, and fairly danced around with gladness.”

-John Chislett, Tuesday, October 21, 1856

You may not know this, but every year people of the Mormon faith celebrate “Pioneer Day” on July 24th; it’s a time to commemorate Brigham Young’s first arrival into the Salt Lake valley on July 24, 1847, and to honor the commitment, courage, and sacrifice of all the early pioneers who followed him there. In Utah, it’s an official state holiday; Mormons in other parts of the world don’t get the day off, but still make an effort to remember and celebrate their Mormon heritage.

Today, in honor of Pioneer Day, I’m going to make you a challenge to do something for somebody. It won’t be easy, but it might make a huge difference in somebody’s life. More on that in a minute…

But first, let me introduce you to John Chislett, author of the quotes above. He was one of nearly 3,000 early Mormon Pioneers who pulled 500-pound handcarts on the 1,300 mile trail from Iowa City to Salt Lake City in the mid-1850s. As a twenty-four-year old British immigrant recently converted to the church, he was assigned to the ill-fated Willie handcart company. The company departed for the journey from Iowa City to Salt Lake on July 15th—more than a month past the last recommended starting date.

Once on the trail, they faced additional delays due to the large size of their group, a larger-than-usual number of elderly travelers, and hastily-built, substandard equipment. By mid-October, they were hopelessly behind schedule. Supplies became depleted, rations were cut, and the prospects of making it to Utah before winter began to look bleak.

In Salt Lake, when Brigham Young received advanced notice that nearly 1,000 people in two handcart companies (including the companion Martin Company) were almost surely going to be stranded in the dead of winter on the high plains of Wyoming, he immediately and famously dropped every other priority and organized the first twenty-two of what eventually became 200 relief wagons. They departed Salt Lake City on October 7 in a mad rush to reach the handcart companies before their situations became dire.

Unfortunately, the first major storm hit just twelve days later, on October 19th. That morning, prior to the storm, Captain Willie and one other man went ahead to locate and expedite the rescue party. John Chislett, in relative good health, was left behind with the exhausted travelers and was assigned the unenviable task of rationing the last of the supplies—consisting of a few pounds of sugar and dried apples, a quarter sack of rice and twenty-five pounds of hard bread—with strict orders to only distribute them to the sick and mothers of hungry children… and even then in as sparing a manner as possible. With the storm coming, they had no idea how far out the relief party was, or if they’d make it in time to save the group.

Here’s an excerpt from John Chislett’s journal regarding the events of Monday, October 21—two days after the storm hit and Captain Willie left to locate the rescue party:

Being surrounded by snow a foot deep, out of provisions, many of our people sick, and our cattle dying… we settled down and made our camp as comfortable as we could. As Captain Willie and his companion [Joseph Elder] left for the West, many a heart was lifted in prayer for their success and speedy return. They were absent three days—three days which I shall never forget. The scanty allowance of hard bread and poor beef, distributed as described, was mostly consumed the first day by the hungry, ravenous, famished souls.

We killed more cattle and issued the meat; but, eating it without bread did not satisfy hunger, and to those who were suffering from dysentery it did more harm than good. This terrible disease increased rapidly amongst us during these three days, and several died from exhaustion. Before we renewed our journey the camp became so offensive and filthy that words would fail to describe its condition, and even common decency forbids the attempt. Suffice it to say that all the disgusting scenes which the reader might imagine would certainly not equal the terrible reality. It was enough to make the heavens weep. The recollection of it unmans me even now—those three days! During that time I visited the sick, the widows whose husbands died in serving them, and the aged who could not help themselves, to know for myself where to dispense the few articles that had been placed in my charge for distribution. Such craving hunger I never saw before, and may God in his mercy spare me the sight again

Ahh… but the difference twenty-four hours can make. Even though the rescue party had pulled over a mile off the main trail to take refuge from the storm, one man, Harvey Cluff, had felt inspired to ride back and leave a sign that they had turned off. Later that evening, Captain Willie saw the sign, and instead of continuing on to his likely demise, rode into the rescuer’s camp. Early the next morning, the rescue team hitched their wagons to complete their mission.

John Chislett recorded his feelings about the following day, Tuesday, October 22:

On the evening of the third day after Captain Willie’s departure, just as the sun was sinking beautifully behind the distant hills, on an eminence immediately west of our camp several covered wagons, each drawn by four horses, were seen coming towards us. The news ran through the camp like wildfire, and all who were able to leave their beds turned out en masse to see them. A few minutes brought them sufficiently near to reveal our faithful captain slightly in advance of the train. Shouts of joy rent the air; strong men wept till tears ran freely down their furrowed and sun-burnt cheeks, and little children partook of the joy which some of them hardly understood, and fairly danced around with gladness. Restraint was set aside in the general rejoicing, and as the brethren entered our camp the sisters fell upon them and deluged them with kisses. The brethren were so overcome that they could not for some time utter a word, but in choking silence, repressed all demonstration of those emotions that evidently mastered them.

Soon, however, feeling was somewhat abated, and such a shaking of hands, such words of welcome, and such invocation of God’s blessing have seldom been witnessed. I was installed as regular commissary to the camp. The brethren turned over to me flour, potatoes, onions, and a limited supply of warm clothing for both sexes, besides quilts, blankets, buffalo robes, woolen socks, etc. I first distributed the necessary provisions, and after supper divided the clothing, bedding, etc., where it was most needed. That evening, for the first time in quite a period, the songs of Zion were to be heard in the camp, and peals of laughter issued from the little knots of people as they chatted around the fires. The change seemed almost miraculous, so sudden was it from grave to gay, from sorrow to gladness, from mourning to rejoicing. With the cravings of hunger satisfied, and with hearts filled with gratitude to God and our good brethren, we all united in prayer, and then retired to rest.

Unfortunately for the Willie & Martin handcart companies, their struggles were not over. Once they regained sufficient strength to move on, they encountered more harsh weather, and one particularly brutal stretch ascending what’s known as Rocky Ridge in Wyoming. Dozens of people died from exposure, disease, and sheer exhaustion. What’s more, several of the rescue party who were left behind to guard the pioneer’s possessions until spring (which were left behind so they could travel more quickly) also fell into dire circumstances that nearly resulted in starvation. But ultimately, they made it to Salt Lake… and those who survived became rock-strong stalwarts for the church whose influence has lasted over 150 years.

Let’s be real. It’s pretty easy to get caught up in routine and tradition and let holidays pass without stopping to really think about their true meaning. Independence Day is more about fireworks, barbeque, and watermelon than it is about Freedom and the price paid for it. Veteran’s day would be a great time to stop and ponder my own grandfather’s sacrifice in the Pacific arena of WW2 instead of just another day where the kids are off school and the mail doesn’t come.

I know you’re probably not a Mormon, and you have no connection to the pioneers of which I have written. But if you’ve read this article to this point, you’re probably the kind of person who’s up to my challenge. The obvious pioneer story about struggle and determination and conquering. But the behind-the-scenes story is about those who went out to help. To rescue. To help those who couldn’t make it themselves.

So here’s the challenge: Make a difference in somebody’s life… TODAY. Reach out to a friend who’s struggling. Find an underprivileged person and help them out. Mow an old lady’s lawn. Pay for the next guy in the drive thru’s burgers. Gather up all the shopping carts in the grocery store parking lot. Donate money to those starving kids in 3rd world countries. Say something nice to your neighbor who looks upset. Don’t think too long about it… just decide on something and do it. Then email me at rharshaw@mymonline.com and let me know your experience.

Have a great Pioneer Day!

© 2014 – 2016, Rich Harshaw. All rights reserved.