8/23/2017 - Personal Journal Entry

August 23, 2017

Personal Journal

I always start my scripture study with a prayer. Today as I was opening this document, I had a thought flash into my mind about the times I have felt that my life has been protected. This early morning with my scriptures open, I thought, was an odd time to think of that. But then I thought, if it came into my mind so suddenly and unexpectedly, I probably should record it:

The first time happened when I was around 10 years old. It was a Saturday evening in the summer, and the light outside was that early twilight-- plenty of light, but not the high heat. The family had sat down to watch Saturday evening TV, but I just wanted to be outside. I got on my bike and rode over to the “fields”. Our subdivision was located on what was then the eastern edge of Fort Worth, and all the streets ‘dead-ended’ into the ‘fields’. If I rode over 5 or 6 blocks, there was a street that dead-ended into fields that had dirt ruts for roads, and that’s were I went that evening. I usually went with other friends, but on early evenings I used to love going there by myself and riding on those ruts and watching the prairie hens and the sunset—just soaking in the beauty of the ordinary. This particular field was where we always drug all the discarded Christmas trees and made our Christmas tree fort every year. There was a sign by the beginning of two ruts that created a bumpy road for us. The sign read “No Dumping”. And of course, at the bottom of that sign were piles of all sorts of things that people had dumped there. This evening I stopped at the dump site—we often did that when there was a group—looking at old magazines and turning over piles of discards hoping to find some treasure. This evening I spotted an old pair of high heeled shoes. I put them on to see if I could walk in them, and then I heard a noise. I froze. It was a rattling sound. I turned my body slowly and there was a large rattlesnake, curled into a hefty circle. His tail, with a long set of rattlers, rose from that circle making that frightening noise, and his head was up in striking position. It seems like I stayed still for a long time. It seems like I held my breath. I knew if he bit me, I was in trouble. I was many blocks from my house and riding home would spread the venom faster. If I didn’t get on my bike, I stay near the snake and he could might decide to strike me if I moved. It was a stand-off. Then I slowly…oh so slowly…inched backwards. When I got four or five feet away from the snake, I kicked off those high heals and ran for my bike and peddled faster than I had ever peddled before over that rutted road. And as I peddled, I prayed and thanked Heavenly Father for keeping that snake from striking for I felt so strongly and so surely the knowledge that I had been protected.

I don’t remember the timing of the other two instances. But I could probably look up the dates. One of those times occurred during the last year we were living in the Netherlands: 1993. Our house was across Buurtweg from the field hockey club where Alex was on a 6 year old girls team with Helen Meuler. I had ridden my bike over there to pick her up from practice. I had to walk down a long sidewalk by the young men’s field to get to the field where the little girls practiced. I suddenly felt wind by the right side of my head and I heard this huge crash to the left side of me. All activity on the young men’s field had suddenly stopped and there was absolute quiet. I had stopped too. Everyone was stunned. They looked at me and I looked at them. That’s when I saw that small, hard hockey ball that had crashed into the wall of the snack bar at my left and at the level of my head. It had to have missed me by millimeters. I gathered my wits about me and walked on to get Alex at her field. The young men started moving again. They climbed over the fence of their field and retrieved their ball, and life went on. It wasn’t until I got Alex home, that I felt weak and shaky. I went up to my bed and thought that instead of lying here in bed, I could be lying on that sidewalk by the snack bar with my head smashed open—changing our family’s lives forever. I said prayers of thanks to Heavenly Father.

The next time also occurred in the Netherlands. I believe it was Jody who had planned to go horseback riding with all her friends in the sand dunes (we lived very close to the coast). All her friends had backed out at the last minute. We would have to pay for the horses whether we used them or not as we had booked them earlier, so our family became the riders. I don’t remember if we had all the kids—but we had enough to cover the number of horses we had reserved. I was on William. He was huge, and he did not like me. (There is a complete account of this in my letters of 1993) But toward the end of the ride, William got absolutely and completely tired of me and bucked me off. I flew up in the air first, and then I remember heading down toward the ground head first. I watched as I passed the saddle horn on my way down to earth and that’s when I heard a voice in my mind. Several times it said, “Tuck you head. Tuck your head.” I did not question the voice, I simple responded by putting my chin to my chest and then I hit the ground and immediately my body went into a roll from the back of my head to my back and the I rolled some more. William must have been proud of himself because he just stood there. He was a huge horse and if he had decided to walk on my body that would have been yet another way to have gotten seriously hurt. Our guides made sure I could move all my body parts, they got me back in William’s saddle and we couldn’t finish that ride soon enough. That’s the only time I have ever felt my body go into shock. Luckily we were near the stables. I somehow got off that horse and to the car—hoping I could stay conscious, which I did. On the way home I knew if I hadn’t of tucked my chin, I could easily have been, at the very least, paralyzed. And once again I thanked the Heavenly Father for angelic help.

The other time I can remember was when Phyllis was driving mother and me home from the Dallas Temple. Mother had just taken out her endowments. I’ve recorded this in my journal, and Phyllis has written about it in a piece she calls ‘the celestial volleyball net’. But for now, I will only say that on the freeway going back to Ft Worth at rush hour, Phyllis feel asleep at the wheel, her foot got heavy and the car speed faster than the speed limit. As we came over the crest of a hill, Mother looked ahead and saw traffic across every lane at a dead stop. She looked over and saw Phyllis was asleep. She yelled at Phyllis to wake up and Phyllis slammed on the brakes. The car turned around and around. Purses and shoes were flying through the air as the car spun. We finally ended up stopped just a few feet in front of the line of cars that was stopped. Our car was facing the wrong way, and we were looking into another solid of sea of cars across all lanes that had all come to a stop. Phyllis was able to get our car turned around in the right direction, and with no fanfare, all stopped cars simply waited for traffic to start moving again. The first words I remember speaking were “Which one of us is supposed to stay alive?”

How can I doubt the Lord’s protection? And how can I do anything but try to live my life doing good and helping others—this includes family, friends, and strangers. There must be a reason I have been spared, and I certainly don’t want to waste the Lord’s efforts. I want to do everything I can to be able to perform the tasks for which I must have been saved. And I ask the Lord for guidance in doing just that, and the strength to follow that guidance.