“Driving with the Spirit,” Ensign, Feb. 1994, 38–39
My husband, Duane, and I had finally finished packing in preparation for our move north several hundred miles. Our mini-caravan finally hit the road at 6:00 P.M.—Duane driving the yellow moving van, my father-in-law driving his pickup truck and towing our van behind it, and me driving our station wagon. Nine-year-old David, four-year-old Jason, and fifteen-month-old Matthew were in the car with me.
By the time we got on the road, it had gotten dark and was raining. I love the rain and enjoy driving at night, so I wasn’t nervous. But after about ten minutes, the rain turned to snow. Accustomed to warm weather, I couldn’t believe that it was snowing at the end of March.
The farther we drove, the heavier the snowstorm became. The wind was blowing so hard that the snow whipped violently in front of me, making it impossible to see the road clearly. I began to get nervous. The tires on our car weren’t snow tires, and it had been many years since I had driven in snow.
I silently prayed for Heavenly Father to bless me that I would drive carefully. The road had become a snow-covered sheet of ice, and we were slipping all over it. Within a few minutes, the snow became so deep that it was scraping the bottom of the car.
I was so frightened that I could no longer pray silently. I needed to talk to Heavenly Father vocally. I asked David and Jason to bow their heads; then I began to pray for guidance: “I can’t remember how to drive in the snow. Please help me to remember what to do.”
Suddenly I began to remember what my husband had taught me years earlier about driving in snow. I got the car under control again, and we offered a prayer of thanks. I felt the Spirit strongly.
I have never felt such dependence on the Lord in my life. Through every mile, I struggled to stay on the road and listened to the Holy Ghost teach me how to handle each situation. On one particularly steep hill, we passed many cars and trucks that were off to the side of the road, and I marvelled that I could keep going.
Just when I had calmed down and was beginning to think our situation would improve, Matthew began to cry. Up until now, he had been so good-natured. Occasionally when he would fuss, I would pacify him by giving him his bottle or a lollipop. But now he was no longer content in his car seat. He kept grabbing for my arm, struggling to get out of his seat. I tried to soothe him, but neither my singing nor my comforting words worked. His constant screaming, along with the storm, became more than I could bear.
I felt strongly that I should ask David and Jason to pray that Matthew would go to sleep, and I asked them to do so. I could see them with their heads bowed and their arms folded, and I felt the loving care and power of Heavenly Father. Within seconds after they finished praying, Matthew’s head nodded over to the edge of his car seat and he fell sound asleep.
For a few moments none of us could speak. We were overwhelmed by the power of prayer and the love Heavenly Father had for us. The storm continued, but my fears were gone.
Now my only concern was that I didn’t know how far I was behind the other trucks. I wanted so much to talk to my husband. About this time I saw a road sign: “Junction I-70, 9 miles.” I knew that exit with its large lights that lit up the whole area. “Please, Heavenly Father,” I prayed, “Put the thought into Duane’s mind to stop and wait for me there.” A feeling of peace came over me. As we approached the lighted area, a feeling of excitement grew within me. I strained my eyes and caught a glimpse of our big yellow truck through the storm. My husband and father-in-law were standing in the falling snow, waiting for me. The gratitude I felt at that moment was beyond words.
Fifteen minutes later, almost as quickly as it had started, the storm was over. We offered a prayer of thanks to a loving Father in Heaven who had led us safely through the storm one mile at a time.