The Burr Trail can be incredibly beautiful. As the sun rose this morning, I looked around me. I could hear the sharp whir of the cicadas humming in the tree that sat central on our little sandy river island. Sunrays poured over the top of the steep canyon that was in front of us to the east and tiny insects danced through the light as if stirring its warmth.
One of the new female counselors was washing on a rock in the sun. I saw her take out a small bar of soap and watched as she lathered it on her tiny washcloth and began to wipe her neck and arms off. The other kids in the camp were rising from their slumbers as well, and a few of them were talking quietly around the fire, stirring their rice or oats slowly in the coals. The male counselors were over under the tree looking at a map and for a second, I almost felt like we were a family.
I went back and made myself some rice, using a tiny bit of the powdered milk they brought out for us in baggies. As I sat by the fire, I wondered about the trek today and what we’d encounter. A warm spell had come over the camp and the snow that had been on ledges 2 days earlier was now melting and dripping in weepy drops down over the narrow river bed. Things really were beautiful if you could forget for a moment what went on behind the scenes.
I was just about to get up and go to pack my roll when I heard a sharp clap.
“Alright! Everyone! Get over here!” Murdock screamed.
We all moved quickly to where he was and sat down on the sand.
“Somebody took some candy. One of the counselors had a snickers bar in their pack, and its gone. We’re not going anywhere til we find it…you hear me?”
The mood of the place just sunk. Everyone had been enjoying the morning and now this. I didn’t know what to do or say, so I kept my mouth shut.
For the next 2 hours, we were lined up against the wall of the canyon while the male counselors would get up in our faces and scream about the candy. Kids were crying, begging, promising that they didn’t know what they were talking about, but they were relentless. They pressed us, and they pressed us hard.
Finally, when nobody would confess after another hour or so, they announced that we would all be carrying rocks of their choosing as we hiked this day until somebody confessed. We all packed up and lined up by the edge of the water and they one by one handed us rocks the size of a football.
“Every hour that passes that nobody confesses, you’re all getting another rock…got that?” they said.
We hiked for an hour with that rock in our pack. Nobody said anything, nobody confessed.
Another rock was added.
Still nobody confessed. Some of the kids were limping from the back strain, hunching over and very quietly moaning. They were not faking. This was agony.
Finally, someone asked what the punishment would be if they did take it. They replied that that person would have to carry a rock for a week in their pack. The boy who asked the question said “I did it” and sat down.
He was severely punished. We all had to watch, but all I remember now is how he looked as they did it. He was not guilty. He was our saviour that day. We hiked on for hours after this, but the whole time, everyone felt love for this boy and we made sure to help him at every turn. That night, we all slept hard, and we never heard him utter a single syllable of remorse or complaint. The night was welcomed.
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If there is one thing I learned that day, it’s about the atonement of Jesus Christ. He did something like this, but on a larger scale. I felt such love for this boy, and such gratitude. It strengthened my testimony of the Lord and his dying for us.
If this is what my parents wanted me to see here, I saw it. If only it could have been the only lesson I learned about humanity.
The real thief, he never confessed. I hope he still has nightmares.