Primary Activity - Pioneers

Saturday morning was our first Primary activity. I think it rocked. (Although I might be a bit biased.) We had a Pioneer Roundup. I know - Pioneer Day was in July. But we were all out of town then and figured the kids wouldn't care if it was a month late. They didn't.

There were lots of fun pioneer stories, pioneer songs, and games and activities. (The buffalo chip throw, marbles, eggs-in-apron relay, making whirlygigs, etc.) We even churned our own butter in baby food jars and made freezer bag ice cream. Messy, but yum.

We had about 30 kids come, and by and large I think they enjoyed themselves and maybe even learned a thing or two. The only problem was that the lawn was too wet for us to be on, so we had to meet in the Cultural Hall. (Or gym, for all of you who don't 'speak' Mormon!) What is it about the Cultural Hall that makes little kids have to run? It's as if it's part of their genetic code; they walk in there and it's: MUST. RUN. NOW. Someone should do a study.

My presidency and I had worked on this activity quite a bit for the past few weeks. To be honest, I had a real struggle 'getting in the mood' for it. I just didn't want to plan or work or anything. Bleh. But once I really got down to the wire and was forced to get some work done, my bad attitude changed.

I was in charge of the pioneer stories. As I read and studied, I was once again inspired by the endurance, fortitude, and triumph of the pioneers. All of the hardships and struggles they went through still amaze me. I was definitely born in the right century; I would not have made a very good pioneer.

*Side note*
Here are a few phrases you probably would have heard from me had I been a pioneer crossing the plains:

• We have to cross the Platte river again?! But we just did that like a week ago!
• I love the smell of burning buffalo chips in the morning. Not.
• You know what this cornbread and dried meat needs? A little fire roasted salsa, baby!
  
• Oh, let me just tell you where you can push that handcart, Brother Shadrach...
  
• I have to use the bathroom where?
  
• No, Hezekiah. I know I'm an old maid of 14, but I won't marry you!
  
• Are we there yet?
• This is the place?

*Thus endeth the random side note*

I made some attention getters for the children to look at and hold while I told stories:

• little paper covered wagons and oxen
• a corncob doll
• corn husks
• beef jerky (Tastes good now - but for every meal for three months? Not so much.)
• a pint jar water with borax in it (to show what the alkali water looked like)
• a buffalo puppet (mmm... tatonka)
• a map showing the Mormon Trail (And corresponding distances. McDonald's? Only two miles from the church. The library? Only four and a half. The Mormon Trail? 1300 miles long. Amazing.)

But the thing that got to me most was the pint jar of flour and the small loaf of bread I made from that amount. I read a story of a handcart company that took longer than expected, so they had to ration their food. At one point they were down to one pint of flour per day. (The children got even less.)

One pint. That's only two cups.

And they were walking upwards of 15 miles a day. In the snow.

They didn't have fleece or parkas or even shoes that were made specifically for left and right feet. They had cotton fabric that soaked up snow like a sponge. They had to sleep outside in the elements. They lost their loved ones and their lives to the cold, to starvation, to disease.

What in the world kept them going? Why would they go through all that they did? What gave them the determination, the endurance, the sheer force of will to follow through on their goal?

Faith.

Faith in the true and living gospel of Jesus Christ. Faith that the gospel had been restored here on earth. Faith that moving West would relieve them from the heartache and danger they had been through with the mobs in Missouri, Illinois, and everywhere else they had settled.

I want the faith of a pioneer. I need it. I'm working on it. This primary activity served as a reminder of the direction I need to take and the work I need to do to increase my faith. I may not have to walk 1300 miles, but I certainly have other 'plains' I need to cross. And, whether you're Mormon or not, so do you.

Westward ho, my friends.