Sweetwater Rescue Thoughts

By Heidi Swinton

The story of the handcart pioneers captures the essence of the Mormon settlement of the West. They were hardy folk by today’s standards—they walked across the plains. But more than that, as I studied their lives through their journals and reminiscences, I almost felt as if I heard their accounts in their own voices, and that was hard; they expected an easier trail and they expected God to intervene for them.

I learned much from them. I learned that things don’t work out the way we expect, but that there is a divine hand in what happens. I think of Elizabeth Jackson in a tent on the frozen earth, her husband dead next to her, and I wonder if things could get worse. They did for her, and she kept going.

That’s the key to why the story of handcart pioneers is powerful—they kept going. What else could they do? Some of them sat down and said, “I can’t go on,” but for the most part, they just put one foot in front of the other. Sometimes when I have a bad day or things are not playing out as I had hoped, I think about the James family burying their father and then moving on to the valley. They came through hardship still believing in God. I find that inspiring.

I am living in England right now and my perspective of the handcart emigrants is enhanced as I drive through the gorgeous countryside around me. It’s green, and the churches date back to the 1400s or earlier. They went to America for a Church that was young and putting down roots in a desert they called Zion. They could not have known what that meant. Desert—no green rolling hills and no ocean, no wide rivers, no factory towns with work. Yet they settled in the barren valleys and called it home and were grateful.

I think that’s incredibly stirring. They were grateful. My gratitude has been heightened by the gratitude they expressed time and again. They appreciated such simple things; we could learn much by applying that same appreciation for our warm homes and food and healthy families.

I am also impressed by the rescuers. They didn’t have any idea what was ahead. They went back on the trail anyway. They went after people that, for the most part, they didn’t even know, and they shared their food with them—risking their own lives in the process. What more could be said of charity one for another? In what is often billed as a gun-slinging, fiercely independent culture—the American West—the story of the handcart pioneers and those who went to find them, captures the untold story of sacrifice for others and a unified vision of community. The world could use such kindness for each other.

To write Sweetwater Rescue: The Willie and Martin Handcart Story, I had to understand not only what had been written, but I had to feel the cold on the trail, see the sun set, and the feel the bitterness of the wind and snow. I have been on those rocky hillsides and stood exposed to the elements. That anyone lived through that ordeal indicates that God is with His people and His people had faith in Him. That was the story we wanted to tell. These were the heroes of the trail west. These were people who pushed on and held on. I love them for their tenacity and resilience, their faith and, of course, their fortitude. Most of all I love them for their humanity. They did the best they could. Isn’t that a lesson to us all.