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
3 comments:
Did you write this one too? It's very pretty -- but it's time to write about something happy!
Have you read Fire of the Covenant? It is about the hand cart company. Paul and I really enjoyed reading it. It talk about Bodil but I think somethings might be fiction about her in the book. I would have to read it again.
We all give things for our faith. It may not be while crossing the plains in the winter, but it is everyday of our lives as we stand for truth and righteousness.
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