Bodil

A couple of months ago (about August) Encore did a Fireside for the south stake called "Remember the Journey." It was about the pioneers and it was really cool, all the songs were so pretty and the people that did solos were amazing. There was one song that really hit me. It was about a nine year old girl who crossed the plains with her little brother...her parents had died in England. When we went on our little trip we stopped at Martin's Cove. In the visitor's center there was this huge plaque on the wall with the names off all the members of the Willie and Martin handcart company. The names of the ones who had dies were written in yellow, and Bodil's name was yellow. I couldn't believe it. I had complained about the smallest things in life, and here I was, staring at the name of a nine-year-old girl who had died in the freezing snow, because of her faith.

To Reach the Valley

Only nine years old
Crossing the plains
Her parents had died long ago
She did the best that she knew how
Though her simple faith was not shown

With everyone else in the handcart train
The valley they’d yet to reach
Her fingers were frozen to the bone
Her confidence about to breach

It was her duty
To gather the wood
To keep their little group warm
She knew she had to do it
She had to go out in the storm

So she went, into the cold
Never again to return
She’d been given care of her little brother
But now he was gone
And had taken along
Her hope that she’d reach the valley

The suffering and the sacrifice
Were beyond anything ever heard
But the courage inside this little girl
Was more than in this whole world

No shoes
No coat
In the prairie wind
With many miles to go
She couldn’t make it any longer
It was simply just too cold

A tear ran down her soft little cheek
Freezing before it fell
She had so many tears inside
She could have filled a well

The pain was more than she could bear
Discouragement welled inside
She had hoped she would reach the valley
She had hoped to stay the tide

The next morning they found her tiny body
Huddled by a frozen stream
Clutching an armful of firewood
It had been a wonderful dream