...my mind drifted to my family. I thought about how I had the opportunity to serve them. I didn’t have to carry them across a freezing river in the middle of a snowstorm or give them my food when they didn’t have enough. There would be other streams they would need help to cross, and I’d be there for them, always and in whatever way they needed me.

If there was one thing I learned from all my research, it was that the majority of the early pioneers didn’t dwell on the hard times; they indeed related every aspect of their lives to their relationship with God, specifically in regards to this disastrous journey. They thanked Him for their lives and the fact that they made it through. Most didn't blame leaders or those around them. They learned to accept their plight and move forward with faith.

I don’t think my journey has to be harrowing to be important. Simply doing the tasks of the day is enough. Such as getting up every morning to go to work to support my family and sacrificing personal time in service to others, teaching my children to give thanks for what they have and to care for others.

The things that matter most to me are eternal. The bonds of love shared within a family I believe to be eternal.

In my mind, past, present and future became a blur as I stood in the middle of the celestial room, in the middle of forever. It was as if I were to take a rope that went on forever in both directions and cut it anywhere then the cut would always be exactly in the middle. And if I cut it twice I would have a beginning and an end, but eternity would continue in both directions.