A Not-so-Lonesome Journey
“One cannot be pessimistic about the West. This is the native home of hope. When it fully learns that cooperation, not rugged individualism, is the quality that most characterizes and preserves it, then it will have achieved itself and outlived its origins. Then it has a chance to create a society to match its scenery.”
– Wallace Stegner, The Sound of Mountain Water
We hiked a beautiful slot canyon this weekend. Imposing and sheer red rock walls. A rocky and uneven desert floor. Chill breezes tempered by patches of sunlight. At some spots, the path had us scrambling and climbing. My nephews, traversing the way with the ease of adolescence, obligingly gave me their hands to help me up and down boulders and sandy, layered slopes.
Being in red rock country put me in mind of my mom’s people, who helped settle this part of southern Utah. Brigham Young sent them to the Big Muddy mission in Nevada, and after their time there, they took up residence in Kanab, Utah. They ranched and raised children, one of whom was my great, great-grandpa, Ebenezer Brown. Eben and his wife Clara, seeking better opportunity for their six (eventually seven) sons elsewhere, packed up their belongings and set off to homestead in the Big Horn basin of Wyoming.
It’s tough to imagine the lives my ancestors lived, settling wide open areas, hewing homes and lives out of the raw materials of the West. I visit their West, but only in a very loose sense. Even when I’m walking for hours through the sand and sun, I’m doing it for recreation, wearing comfortable hiking shoes and a backpack full of water, granola bars, and grapes. I’m not roughing it.
The thing common between us is the need for community. The Browns, because they couldn’t survive physically without one. Me, because I couldn’t survive socially, emotionally, and spiritually on my own.
COVID has made it very clear that community is essential. Our health depends on our belonging with people who lift and listen to us and whom we lift and listen to. Elder Dale G. Renlund calls the pandemic a spiritual stress test; it is revealing how fit we are as disciples of Christ who have promised to love one another. Are we trending toward contention or compassion? Elder Renlund points us to the path of compassionate community building:
“When love of Christ envelops our lives, we approach disagreements with meekness, patience, and kindness. We worry less about our own sensitivities and more about our neighbor’s. We ‘seek to moderate and unify.’ We do not engage in ‘doubtful disputations,’ judge those with whom we disagree, or try to cause them to stumble. Instead, we assume that those with whom we disagree are doing the best they can with the life experiences they have.”
– Elder Dale G. Renlund, “The Peace of Christ Abolishes Enmity“
What a gift, a life enveloped in Christ-like love. The burden of anger and hatred removed, what’s left is peace and contentment. That’s the community I want to be part of—one populated with people whose actions in their interpersonal relationships cultivate peace.
We’ve had our moments this weekend as a family. A few disputations over who gets to shower next or what to eat. But more so I’m noticing my nieces helping their grandma navigate uneven ground, my sisters-in-law planning and executing activities, my brothers assembling a chili dinner when everyone’s famished.
I notice my nephews’ hands outstretched to pull me up the sandy incline so we can continue our journey, together.