For Christmas, Dustin bought me a fabulous book called "Women of Faith." Usually during the day or just before bed, I read one or two short biographies of the valiant women that grace the pages of this inspiring book. Today I cannot finish my housework or tackle my to do list until I share with you the struggles and determination of Maria Jackson Normington Parker.
Who was she? A woman of faith! Maria was born in England and raised religously, keeping high moral principles. She readily accepted the gospel and was baptized on November 20, 1840. Her husband was baptized 10 days later. Together they had already lost their first two children but did not hesitate in their desire to trek to Zion with their other five children. The journey was difficult, and they waited for assistance, finally using the Perpetual Emigrating Fund. Evenutally the family joined the newly announced experiment to pull handcarts from Iowa City to Salt Lake City.
What!? I cringed when I read that part. The part where they would join the ill-fated Martin Handcart Company. But the Lord called his faithful servants to endure this journey so that millions of testimonies would be gained and strengthened. The Normington family were some of those servants.
Along the trek, Maria gave birth to a stillborn son, buried her husband in a mass grave of 16 other people, and lost her two sons. The account of her youngest son is heart-wrenching.
Among the ill was five-year-old Ephraim Robert Normington. At the height of his fever he begged for a piece of bread to eat; Maria placed a bite of biscuit on his lips. Before he could eat it, he died. Immediately, his sister, Hannah, now seven years old, snatched the biscuit from his dead lips and ate it. Maria realized how much her remaining children were suffering from hunger. She resolved to do all in her power to preserve their lives.
Her story continues with resolve--resolve to preserve her daughters and to nurture them to physical and spiritual maturity. Maria kept going and kept her daughters alive by giving them her meager rations while she ate dirt to satisfy her own hunger. Yes, you read that correctly: DIRT!
When she could no longer pull her handcart, she crawled on her hands and knees. And when her hands would no longer carry her weight because of frost bite and pain, she pulled herself along on her elbows. When help finally arrived, Maria slipped into unconsciousness and was carried into the valley without any knowledge of the final days of the journey.
But she arrived with her three daughters. Each of them nursed back to health although it took several months for Maria to even walk again. She carried the scars of that journey on her hands and elbows and knees until her death.
Why am I telling this story? Because my heart began asking myself, "What am I doing for my children?" There is a vast difference between my journey and the journey of this woman. My children have never begged for a piece of bread, nor have I suffered the infirmities or afflictions of those of the pioneers. Our quest, though is simlar. My wish--my most sincere desire--is the same as Maria's: to preserve my children and to nurture them to physical and sprititual maturity.
If that requires less time on Facebook and more time in the service of my fellow beings, then so be it. If that requires that I wake earlier in the morning to be ready for the day, then so be it. If that requires that I give up "me time" for family time, then so be it. Up to this point in my life I have not been asked to leave my beautiful home or lose loved ones or even face death. In fact, I have only been asked to do the simple things (FHE, prayer, temple attendance, service, kindness). And I even struggle with this!? Now thanks to Maria Jackson Normington Parker, the simple things seems more than possible.
