Today is the anniversary of the arrival of the Mormon pioneers in the Salt Lake Valley in 1847.
Sometimes we tend to romanticize the poineers' trek across the plains. The fact is, there was nothing romantic about it. It was brutal, hard work that claimed too many lives, including those of infants and children. Those with enough means traveled in covered wagons. Others pulled handcarts. All gave everything they had.
Families uprooted themselves from comfortable homes in Nauvoo, Illinois to follow the Prophet Brigham Young's leadership to a barren land. Nothing greeted them in the new land but an unforgiving desert nestled between equally unforgiving mountains. Men and women alike set to planting crops. Before even building homes, they put down roots--literally.
My ancestors were among those pioneers. I revere them even as I stand in awe of them.
So, for today, I am grateful for the courage and faith of pioneers.