WE LOVE AMERICA - NEBRASKA

In Fort Smith, Arkansas, we looked at the map and had a revelation, an epiphany as it were. If we continued on our present course and comfortable speed, we would probably not get home until the middle of the next week. Unfortunately, we did have some responsibilities (such as going to work) and so we decided that a change in direction was indicated. We decided to back track a few miles and turn north on I-29 and head for Omaha and points west. Our course north pulled us into the beautiful, rolling hills of western Arkansas and then up and up and up over the spine of the Ozark Mountains. Small hamlets and towns dotted the hills, looking like a spoon had scooped out some of the rich forest to open a few meadows and mounds where houses could be plopped and fastened. Some farms lay on steep hillsides and looked as if a gentle shaking would slide them down as if on skis.
We found ourselves on one of this country's truly scenic byways. This beautiful four lane masterpiece flowed gently over one hilltop after another, climbing higher and higher in a rich forest panorama sprinkled with autumn colors.
We topped out at Fayetteville, AR and found a city, scattered over a set of goose bump hills and sprawling out to dip into shallow valleys and crevices. It was right on top of the mountain range and the view spread out, down the mountains and onto northern Arkansas and the Missouri plains. We coasted down the mountainsides and accelerated out onto fertile farm land. It was perfect for corn, soybeans (again) and scattered plots of watermelons and pumpkins.



But as we crossed from Arkansas into Missouri, we began to see large fields, dry and cracking in the sun and looking like abandoned lake beds. Then we would pass another field and it would be covered with water, scattered corn stalks slumped over, their leaves stirring faint wavelets in the wind. We kept questioning why so much rich land had become so desolate, what had happened here? We were driving along the east side of the Missouri River and we later found that last June it surged out of its banks in a devastating flood. In Montana, the river's origin, snowfall last winter was 212% of normal and the spring stayed cold until June. Then the weather rapidly warmed and to make the situation worse the upstream mountains received as much rain in one month as they usually get in a whole year. All that water rolled downstream like an inland tsunami until the banks and levees could hold no more and acres and acres of farms filled with water. For the Corps of Engineers, it was a question of which levees to dynamite to release the pressure but cities and population won over farm lands. It was a sobering manifestation of nature's power and impact.
Finally we slipped into Omaha and found a place to lay our weary heads. In the morning, bright crisp and blue, we decided that we could not miss the Mormon Trail Visitor Center at Winter Quarters.



It was at this location, across the Missouri River from Council Bluffs, that the Mormon Pioneers, driven out of their lovely and cherished city of Nauvoo, abandoning beautiful and sturdy homes, found refuge on Indian land. In a terrible journey of suffering and deprivation they made their agonizing way, in the depth of a ferocious winter, across the entire State of Iowa. Crossing the Missouri River on ferry boats, they parked their wagons, put up drafty tents and crafted dugouts and a few sod roofed log cabins to create Winter Quarters, a haven from persecution. The winter was hard, with sticky mud, snow and merciless ice and devastating disease stalked and ravished the Saints. On a hill overlooking the camp, day upon day, body after body was buried. Over 600 suffering souls left this earth that winter, tragically, many of them little children. But it was also from here that the Pioneers turned their faces west and with wagons and handcarts, marched into the wilderness of the Great Plains to carve a new and safe home in the Rocky Mountains.



We owe an eternal debt to these faithful ancestors and our hearts were touched and softened by the knowledge of the agony and suffering they endured and the fire of faith that powered their triumph. Those who endured the trial of Winter Quarters rose out of that frozen cauldron with a renewed testimony, a mighty knowledge that God knew and loved them and a bright, fixed and firm commitment to go on to Zion.



It is fitting that next to the Pioneer Cemetery, a temple now stands whose spire reaches heavenward and the Angel Moroni sounds the trump to usher in the Dispensation that will welcome the Savior again. The struggles and suffering of the Saints buried here are over, and a solid symbol of Eternal Life looks upon their resting place. The oak trees stand straight and tall, sheltering this hallowed ground.



Gravestones are weathered and worn and most of the resting places lie unmarked, waiting that glorious day when eternal light will explode from the east and the graves will yield up their immortal dead.



Avard Fairbanks sculpted this statue of a pioneer couple, weeping in anguish over the little open grave of their child, taken from them by unyielding death, which could not be forestalled. Now they must tenderly and gently cover their precious babe in the cold and dark soil. It is a fitting and touching tribute, standing in a place of honor in the cemetery.



With full hearts, we left Winter Quarters and Omaha and sped west into the Great Plains of America. Field after field of ripened corn, bounded and defined by windrows of green, spoke of the breadbasket and fertile power of this choice nation. We have the potential to feed billions from the produce of this chosen land. God has smiled on this continent and country.



Ranch houses dot the path of the freeway and many of them have their own beautiful lake right at their doorstep, stocked with fish. Most have a little dock and small boat to enjoy a private, quite moment, floating in peace and perhaps enticing an unwary fish to come home for dinner. Our drive was smooth, the miles clicking past faster than any other time on our journey and the wide open spaces refreshed the spirit and lifted our hearts.