Why I Believe Wednesday: Moving

All of this moving talk (14 families in our ward are moving this month alone--ah, the joys of living in a college town!) has got me thinking about the other moves I've made in my life.  Since BYU, I've lived in at least one new apartment every year until this last one.  First I lived with my dad, then Mom, then some friends along the Wabash (I refer to it as 815), then downtown (103), then in the complex here with my sister.  Then the last two years with my husband in the same apartment--it almost feels like we've settled here!  Hahaha.  It'll be nice to move and to REALLY settle for a bit, now that we have an idea what the next 5 or so years of our lives are looking like.  Maybe we'll stay put in Chicago for our careers after that, too...so we could feasibly be settling like real grown-ups!

ANYWAY, the move home was an interesting one.  This was JUST before everyone had cell phones, and I didn't have much money saved up.  Dad mostly paid for my traveling expenses.  I drove from Utah to Indiana alone in my Oldsmobile station wagon, packed floor-to-ceiling with everything I owned in the world.  I was supposed to stop halfway through for my roommate and best friend's wedding reception in Kansas City, MO, and I really didn't expect any troubles along the way.  BOY was I wrong! 

First of all, driving through the mountains at the end of April means you have no idea what the weather is going to be like.  I happened to get stuck in a mini blizzard that actually closed the interstate in Wyoming, and I got stuck for the night.  Having no cell phone and little extra cash, I contemplated just sleeping in my car--but this is when my hip was still acting up and I had to sleep in a certain way to not aggravate it.  I wound up using a pay phone at a McDonald's and calling my dad, then searching (almost in vain) for a hotel that he could pay for with his credit card (and they were all, of course, over priced!).  I made the necessary calls to let everyone know that my plans would be changing, then I just sat in my room and cried.

Did I mention that using a cane in ice and snow is DANG difficult?

The next day, I started out as early as I could, once I-80 had opened.  But the snow/slush combo, combined with my terrible wipers, ended up creating a thick layer of sludge on my windshield that I couldn't see through.  Since no one was driving fast in the mountains, anyway, I had the time to drive with my window down and use a rag to wipe off some of the buildup with my hands so that I could see enough to drive. 

I made it to Lincoln, Nebraska, and then my car died.

Now, this car died on occasion, anyway, but it felt and sounded a certain way when it did.  Mostly it would just stop, and you'd feel the car slowing down (breaks still worked).  If you gave it time, it would start again, no problem, and go another 500 miles or so before it did it again.  But this was different.  There were new sounds, and some rattling and smoke involved, and a sputtering before it died.  I managed to pull off into a gas station (miracles DO happen), and I just started crying again.  But I also prayed harder than I had in a long time, because I know nothing of cars and there was no one at the gas station to help and I had no way of paying for any repairs, anyway.  As I sat there in the gravel parking lot, contemplating what was to become of me, I had the feeling I should just try to drive on.  I put the key in the ignition and started up, and everything was fine.  I drove on, literally living on prayers.

Normally I like to drive long distances with upbeat music to pass the time, but on this trip, with everything that happened, I just turned the music off and talked aloud with my Heavenly Father for two and a half days.  I prayed about everything I had recently been through, and everything I was worried about on the trip, not to mention coming home.  I pondered life's mysteries and reflected on the miracles I've already seen in my short life so far.  It was peaceful in a way that's hard to describe.  I felt like I was really communicating with the Lord, praying with Him instead of just to Him.  I knew, because of how I felt, that He was listening and was taking that journey home with me.  I felt like I had Him in my back seat.

Even more, you know those pioneer stories and testimonies in the handcart companies where they pushed themselves to their breaking point and just when they felt they could go no further it was as though the carts pushed themselves?  I had that very same feeling and experience.  I know I didn't take that journey alone.  I had guardian angels doing miracles for me on that journey--keeping me awake and focused, doing magic repairs on my car, keeping me from sliding into ditches, and mostly just pushing me onward when I was exhausted and worried and felt like I should just give up.  I was constantly reminded of a few scriptures--

"I can do all things through Christ, which strengtheneth me."  (Phil. 4:13)
"They that are with us are more..." (2 Kngs 6:16)
"...I will go before your face.  I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up." (D&C 84:88)

How can you feel these things and not know that our Heavenly Father is real?  I know He lives and that He loves us.  I know He's speaking to us in quiet ways; it is WE who aren't listening.  When I do my best to listen, I hear Him and feel His arms around me.  I made it to my roommate's reception as it was ending, and after a home cooked meal and a good night's rest, I made it to Indiana the next afternoon, praying and feeling loved all the way home.  That is why I believe.