On a November road trip to California, we decided to take the southern route.
The northern route, (I-80) which passes through Wyoming is often swept by blizzards and road closures.
Yes, Utah (I-70) would definitely be a smoother trip.
We crossed the Colorado/Utah border and proceeded into the barren eastern parts of the state.
On a high plateau, just shy of Green River, we looked down and saw a huge bank of heavy white clouds blanketing the valley.
"Looks like we're headed into some fog," I remarked to Bruce.
"Yup," my husband replied.
Neither of us batted an eyelash. What's a little fog to seasoned cross-country travelers like us?
As the nose of our minivan headed downward from the high plateau, I remember thinking, "Goody, this'll be so scenic, with clouds swirling all around the red rock formations of central Utah."
I got my camera ready.
Then we met "it."
"It" was no cloud bank.
"It" was a blizzard.
A concentrated, swirling, horizontally-blowing, dense mass of white fury, directed at our car or any other vehicle that dared enter its death-dealing vortex.
We began to pray in earnest.
We drove blind.
Until we came up behind truck lights.
We followed those lights for one hundred miles, hoping the driver didn't veer off the road.
'Cause we'd have followed those little red lights anywhere.
Three hours later we felt ourselves vomited out from the belly of the white monster, tense, frightened, and sick to our stomachs.
We holed up at the nearest motel.
The next morning we were able to view the results of the storm.
Cars had spun out and slid down into ditches.
Tow trucks roared into action.
Police vehicles zoomed everywhere, searching for stranded motorists.
Man, had we failed to correctly read the weather signs.
Had we known what danger was approaching, we'd have stopped in Green River and waited out the storm.
Lacking discernment, we'd foolishly plowed on ahead. If we'd stopped in Green River and asked, someone probably would've advised us not to continue.
God, in His grace, spared us from catastrophe.
How many times have I plowed on ahead of God in the spiritual arena, as well?
It's so easy to think I can handle things without God's guidance.
I've been in a hurry and I just didn't want to wait another day.
So I took some big chances.
But I'm learning:
Ask people who know the conditions.
Be humble enough to take their advice.
Don't be in a hurry. (God never is.)
Learn to read the signs of the times.
Consult the map, God's book.
"Teach me knowledge and good judgment
for I believe in Your commands." (Psalm 119: 66 NIV Bible)
The northern route, (I-80) which passes through Wyoming is often swept by blizzards and road closures.
Yes, Utah (I-70) would definitely be a smoother trip.
We crossed the Colorado/Utah border and proceeded into the barren eastern parts of the state.
On a high plateau, just shy of Green River, we looked down and saw a huge bank of heavy white clouds blanketing the valley.
"Looks like we're headed into some fog," I remarked to Bruce.
"Yup," my husband replied.
Neither of us batted an eyelash. What's a little fog to seasoned cross-country travelers like us?
As the nose of our minivan headed downward from the high plateau, I remember thinking, "Goody, this'll be so scenic, with clouds swirling all around the red rock formations of central Utah."
I got my camera ready.
Then we met "it."
"It" was no cloud bank.
"It" was a blizzard.
A concentrated, swirling, horizontally-blowing, dense mass of white fury, directed at our car or any other vehicle that dared enter its death-dealing vortex.
We began to pray in earnest.
We drove blind.
Until we came up behind truck lights.
We followed those lights for one hundred miles, hoping the driver didn't veer off the road.
'Cause we'd have followed those little red lights anywhere.
Three hours later we felt ourselves vomited out from the belly of the white monster, tense, frightened, and sick to our stomachs.
We holed up at the nearest motel.
The next morning we were able to view the results of the storm.
Cars had spun out and slid down into ditches.
Tow trucks roared into action.
Police vehicles zoomed everywhere, searching for stranded motorists.
Man, had we failed to correctly read the weather signs.
Had we known what danger was approaching, we'd have stopped in Green River and waited out the storm.
Lacking discernment, we'd foolishly plowed on ahead. If we'd stopped in Green River and asked, someone probably would've advised us not to continue.
God, in His grace, spared us from catastrophe.
How many times have I plowed on ahead of God in the spiritual arena, as well?
It's so easy to think I can handle things without God's guidance.
I've been in a hurry and I just didn't want to wait another day.
So I took some big chances.
But I'm learning:
Ask people who know the conditions.
Be humble enough to take their advice.
Don't be in a hurry. (God never is.)
Learn to read the signs of the times.
Consult the map, God's book.
"Teach me knowledge and good judgment
for I believe in Your commands." (Psalm 119: 66 NIV Bible)
I've moved forward too often without wise counsel and paid the price. Hopefully, I've learned a lesson or two.
ReplyDeleteAmen, Susan. There is hope for us as we grow older and wiser!
ReplyDelete