Over the past three years in my advocacy for the unhoused, I’ve learned that all it takes to ruffle feathers is to compare Provo’s homeless to the Mormon pioneers. Presently, Utah County’s unhoused endure inclement weather, hunger and disease — so did the pioneers. The unhoused are chased from location to location, pressured by law enforcement, desperate for rest. So were the pioneers.

In response, I’m told, it was different back then. And I say — yes, it was. If we pay attention to those differences, it becomes clear that the pioneers set the miraculous precedent for a speedy solution.

Approximately 1.5 million Utahns have at least one pioneer ancestor, which lends to the running joke that we’re all related. Like most county residents, I grew up singing songs about children who walked across 1,300 miles of inhospitable wilderness to reach a promised land. We all know the story — this is the place our forbears finally called home. Which is why on Thursday, we’ll celebrate 178 years since the vanguard brigade rolled through Emigration Canyon into the Salt Lake Valley to establish Zion. July 24 is essentially a statewide family reunion.

From the inspirational tales of my own ancestral lineage comes the heroics of the Mormon apostle, Charles C. Rich, who lead his wagon company to Utah in October of 1847. On Oct. 5, just three days post-arrival, his mother, Nancy O’Neal Rich — my grandmother seven generations removed — died from pneumonia. She was buried in Block 49, located one block east of Utah’s Old Fort, sometimes called “Plymouth Rock of the West.”

Construction of the formidable 10-acre compound was already well underway when Rich’s company pulled in. On Aug. 10, Brigham Young and his men laid the foundation stones, and by December, his flock completed 450 cabins. These sheltered over 2,000 saints for the next two years before the settlement expanded north and south to accommodate the booming population.

My favorite Mormon pioneer story, however, and the answer to Utah’s homeless issue happened nine years later.

On Oct. 4, 1856, Franklin D. Richards rode into town with urgent news. 500 miles to the east, the Martin and Willie handcart companies were stranded at Fort Laramie. Nearly 1,000 people — caught in early winter snowstorms — were on the brink of starvation, suffering from sickness and exposure, in desperate need of rescue. The stricken people were out of sight, and just as easily out of mind. But rather than ignore their plight, President Young immediately devised a plan.

The next day — Sunday, Oct. 5 — the prophet of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints stood before a congregation of 6,000 and rallied his people to the faith:

“I will tell you all that your faith, religion, and profession of religion, will never save one soul of you in the Celestial Kingdom of our God, unless you carry out just such principles as I am now teaching you. Go and bring in those people now on the plains.”

In 48 hours — 30 years before the invention of automobiles, and another 100 years before the completion of Interstate 80 — a party of 27 men loaded up 16 wagons with lifesaving supplies. They left the safety of the Salt Lake Valley settlement to face the treachery of the open frontier. On the home front, President Young reinstated the LDS Relief Society, and countless women made preparation to receive survivors and nurse them back to health. It took several trips, but in two month’s time, the last of over 200 rescue wagons returned. An estimated 210 men, women and children had died in wait, but 864 handcart company members lived to tell the astonishing tale.

Among the survivors was an 18-year-old girl, Elizabeth Green — my maternal grandmother six generations removed. Among her rescuers was Israel Barlow I — my children’s paternal grandfather, seven generations removed. The truth is, we belong to each other now and in the future — we are all part of the human family. And if we profess belief that each of us are children of God, then ignoring the plight of the homeless is a failure of conviction.

Call me a dreamer, but I foresee a time when social work experts and strong leadership come to play to create a unique action plan. I’m a mere poet, but I predict Provo will become a hotbed community, hungry for education on homelessness, fixed in the determination to grow rapid affordable housing options. I believe our brave men and nurturing women will rally to aid the unsheltered of Utah County with selflessness and evidence of their faith.

If it worked for the “Mormon Moses,” who knows? I believe miracles can happen again.

Bonnie Shiffler-Olsen is an American poet, essayist and advocate for the unhoused. She spearheads the Community Compassion Cooperative, a volunteer organization whose goal is to relieve the suffering of the area’s unhoused and promote recovery.