I was super excited to go somewhere I had never been and to enjoy being outside in a beautiful setting. I went to bed super early (like 7pm) on Friday night and got up super early (like 3 am). I got ready for the day and packed all the things I would need for my day long trip.
I was grateful to be driving when there would be very few cars on the road, and before I left I had no worries about the drive. I was slightly worried about the hike I had chosen, though I knew it would be rewarding if I could just make it.
Part way into my drive, I started to have different fears... what if a deer ran out and I hit it, what if a passing semi crossed the median line and hit me, what if I needed to pull over, what if my brakes went out, what if I careened off the road to my death, etc. Turning my brights on and off repeatedly, I even grew scared of the dark, wishing the sun would rise already. Those may seem like ridiculous concerns. (Shelly always hated when her kids or I played what she called "The What If Game." So maybe it's silly just because I was worried about things that were unlikely and hadn't happened to me.) Regardless of how justified they may seem or not seem now, while I was driving they were very real fears. I just kept praying, with clenched fists, that nothing would happen and that I'd be kept safe. And it seems as soon as I'd do that, I'd calm down and my fear would dissipate. And I read every single sign I drove by, which I don't think I'd ever seen as many warnings and cautions as on this highway. I even spent most of the drive going the speed limit or under, which is quite out of character since I've been known to have a lead foot. I was so grateful when daylight started to break through the bleak darkness. I was even more grateful when the day had completely taken over the night. And I couldn't have been happier or more relieved than when I finally reached my destination.
I drove to the trail head of my chosen hike. It was a beautiful and scenic drive, even though there was much fog. I kept thinking that I could just drive around and skip the hike. (There was even a viewpoint of the peak of the hike, so I would be able to see the same end point as I would if I had gone up the trail.) But I didn't back out. I decided to still go on the hike. Even when I got out of the car to fog and sprinkling, I didn't turn around. I hadn't driven this far to go back at this point.
Before I had made a final decision about where I would go and what I would do on Saturday, I worried that I might be too out of shape to do something physical. But I had been wanting to go here for years and made the choice to go despite how under qualified I thought I was for what I wanted to do.
The hike was much easier than I had anticipated. And sure enough, when I reached the summit, I don't think I could have been any happier. The view was well worth the short hike. I stood there admiring one of the most well-known landmarks, but was content with my view. I had no desire to be right next to it. I considered leaving without actually making it all the way to the landmark.
I had hiked behind what appeared to be a mother and daughter from India. I had passed them at some point and reached the top before them. When they finally made it to the top, they took what seemed like a million of the exact same pose and picture after asking someone to take one for them. They said they had come a long ways. They stood just a few feet away from where I was very content standing. After what seemed like many photos, they turned around and left, without even attempting to get right next to the landmark.
As I stood there, with solid footing, I thought about their choice. How could they come "all this way" and be perfectly happy with just merely viewing this famous sight when the ability to be next to it wasn't that much further? Then I thought about what I would decide. I had driven 3 plus hours just to see this beautiful rock formation, and yet I was considering, like them, just leaving after viewing it. Did I really come "all this way" just to see it from a distance?
I don't consider myself afraid of heights, but as I debated what I would do, I realized I am very afraid of heights in certain settings. The fear I would tumble off the ledge to the bottom the pit was very real. I had no confidence in my ability to walk on the slick rock, even though the longer I stood there, the more people I watched make it safely around and across to the formation. Nobody was sliding or stumbling much less falling to their death. I was being completely ridiculous. I thought that I could probably make it. Then I thought about how most of them had a spouse or a friend who was with them to help them in case they wanted assistance. And I saw some of them helping each other get up, or climb over rock, etc. I thought that my being alone was a valid excuse to turn around and make my descent down the trail. But part of me was wanting so desperately to go big. (I had a district leader on my mission who often said, "Go big or go home.")
After a little while, I started to make my way back across the ledge. Midway across I stopped to take photos, close to where I had sat before. Once my fear of heights got the best of me, I put my camera away and started walking back to the rocks very slowly. I must have looked ridiculous because at one point a guy mockingly said, "Careful, don't fall." I seriously resented that remark though it was probably deserved. But he had no idea the things I had been previously thinking and what a victory it was that I had even made it.
Of course, I made it back just fine. The hike back down was nothing. Once I reached the bottom, I decided to go to the viewpoint of the arch. I was even more grateful I had actually hiked to Delicate Arch after seeing it from the viewpoint. The viewpoint doesn't do a justice. Although, for those who can't or don't want to hike the trail, it's better than nothing.
I spent a few more hours driving around and exploring Arches National Park. I didn't do anymore hiking though. I basically drove and then would stop get out and take pictures. But it was amazing! Moab is absolutely beautiful!
Mid-afternoon, I decided it was time to head back to Provo. I wanted to make it back before it started getting dark because of my fears that morning driving in the dark. At first, it felt so nice to drive back in complete daylight. But I wasn't familiar with the roads because I had only driven it once, mostly in the dark. But a majority of the way is just two lanes, one going one direction and one going the other. I would get nervous because cars would be going much faster behind me and then would get stuck behind me going much slower until there was a passing lane. I also was so worried my brakes would fail me or that coming around a curve the car would slide, so I went much slower descending the canyon, sometimes while braking.
Again, I just kept praying that I'd be able to calm down and not be freaked out so that I could make it. Multiple times I thought I should just pull over for a while. But I figured if I stopped, I wouldn't want to start again. And that would also mean I might drive back in partial darkness depending on how long I stopped for. I just kept driving and couldn't wait to reach I-15 and something familiar.
Once I made it back to the main interstate, I decided to stop at the Payson Temple, even though I was so exhausted and just wanted to be home. I figured it might be my last chance to be at the temple with few people before it's crazy busy for the open house.
It was so peaceful on the temple grounds, even with the few children running around. The spirit was so strong, even though it hasn't been dedicated. I felt so calm, which was a stark contrast to what I'd felt during a good portion of the day. It made for a great conclusion to a wonderful trip.
I feel like these experiences were a living testament of Elder Bednar's most recent conference talk. Though it's very possible I would have been safe even without praying, the act of praying gave me the peace and calm that I could do this and I would be okay. "Correct knowledge of and faith in the Lord empower us to hush our fears because Jesus Christ is the only source of enduring peace." I know Elder Bednar was talking about spiritual fears, but it applies to all fears. Just like the people of Alma, "...[the] knowledge of the Savior’s protecting watchcare enabled [me] to hush [my] own fears."
Safely driving to Moab and back and making to it Delicate Arch were small temporal triumphs that are unimportant in the eternal scheme of things. But it reminded me of the power we have to overcome all things, temporal and spiritual. We are so blessed that we are never alone for one second. He is always there, ready and willing to help us. All we have to do is ask.
"...He is the way - the only way - we can overcome mortal challenges, be healed, and return back to our heavenly home." -Carole M. Stephens (The Family is of God)
"I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." (Philippians 4:13)
