Icy Roads and Scary Driving

This past week I have had to negotiate some really snowy, icy roads to get to school and back. On Thursday morning in the dark, as I headed down into the river bottoms on black ice covered with a couple of inches of new snow, I tried to keep from picking up too much speed down the hill, but needed to keep enough speed to go up the other side. I was nervous, but not panicked, and felt comfort from the Spirit which reminded me of a line in my Patriarchal blessing: I will watch over you at all times and in all places..." I have thought of that for several days --how the Good Lord has watched over me through many scary times. I have not lived my life in fear, although I admit to having been scared nearly witless a couple of times. All you kids know I don't like icy roads, but I have to say I don't mind them if I am in control of the situation. If I am forced to sit in the passenger seat and endure someone else's driving, I may get nervous.

I have only been truly terrified three times that I remember. Well, four. Some I won't talk about, but the last time I was scared silly was when I had just perchased a new car in Tremonton and was driving it back to Draper on a dark January night, with snow piled up high beside the freeway. As I got into an area that was very dark and unpopulated ( I could see no lights out there) my new car's trouble lights all came on at once, and then dimmed and the car rolled to a stop. I managed to head it up against the snow bank, but I was just going around a long corner, and I couldn't get very far off the road. I turned on the hazard lights and got a slow, sickly blinking. The car was dead. I had no idea exactly where I was and the semis passing by seemed to be barely missing my car, shaking it with a huge roar. I was shaking so badly and so terrified I almost forgot I owned a cell phone. I called Lisa, " How long has it been since I left the dealer?" "Fifteen, twenty minutes, why?" "I am sitting in a dead car somewhere in the middle of nowhere, maybe fifteen miles from Tremonton. No lights, no signs. Any clue where I am? Can you tell the dealer, tell Dan, tell someone to come get me!!!!" Every minute I was sure I would become part of a pile of twisted metal, hit with a semi swerving around that curve.... Well, you know I got rescued and am here to tell about it. My Heavenly Father has been good to me.

It's strange that one time when I was even in more danger, I wasn't afraid at all. Van and I were going down Sheep Mountain on glare ice and a little snow, and saw up ahead a pickup truck towing a UHaul trailer jackknifed across the road from the mountain to the cliff, entirely blocking the whole road. Several people stood in front of the thing frantically waving their arms. Van geared down the little hatchback we were driving and killed the engine. There we were, headed straight for them, no breaks, no power steering, no engine. In the few seconds as we approached he tried to restart the engine, but didn't put it in neutral, so we just kept going. At the last second I remember the terrified faces of the men waving their arms at us, I saw the tops of the pine trees as Van took the cliff side of the wreck and we sailed out into space . I remember the peaceful feeling that came over me as the quiet filled the car when our tires left the side of the road, "So this is how it feels to die." I hugged the baby (Jake) who was on my lap ( yes, in those days we didn't have baby seats) and smelled the sweet baby scent of him. A whiff of regret that he was there to die with us came to me, then suddenly we were on the other side of the wreck and zooming on down the highway. It was about a mile before Van got the car started and under control again. We looked at each other and couldn't believe what had happened. "It just wasn't our time to die, "Van said.
I'm certain my guardian angels worked overtime on that one. It wasn't Van's great Duke's of Hazard driving that saved us. Neither of us ever doubted it was God's intervention that somehow put us on the other side of that wreck and not at the bottom of the cliff.

I am grateful for the protecting care of a loving father. I think we should all be more aware of the fact that he does rescue us from what is sometimes our own folly, but other times just part of the mortal experience. May I add that you men, especially, have no right to scare the bejeebers out of your sweet wives and children. Drive carefully out there. Love, Mom