The Road Less Traveled

The next morning, I woke up with a new excitement to go to the cemetery. I guess I assumed that my special moment in the car when I had felt Emmett’s presence would be continued at his grave. I was hopeful that as soon as I got there, we would share yet another special moment.

   

We headed out early. It was sprinkling a little bit, and I hoped that as we drove, the weather would improve. It didn’t. In fact, the closer we got to the cemetery, the more the rain came down. The road up the hill to the headstones was covered in thick mud. The snow had melted, and the water that remained had turned everything to slop.

 

As we pulled up, I could see some of Emmett’s family members already standing around his grave. I had planned on seeing them at his aunt’s house later on, but inside, I felt disappointed that I wouldn’t have the opportunity to be there alone with him.

It was raining so hard that the kids didn’t even really want to get out of the car. What I had thought would be the perfect moment . . . turned out to be a dirty, cold, wet mess. I didn’t get to stand over his grave and yell about all the pain in my heart; I didn’t get to scream at him about how lonely I felt. I didn’t get to tell him how badly it hurt that I missed him. I was longing to share all the thoughts that had been eating at me, and I wanted to ask a whole lot of “whys.” All of those perfect words I had laid out in mind to say that day . . . were left stirring inside of me.

   

The kids came out and put the flower wreath down on the ground.

Emmett’s headstone wasn’t up yet, and the grass hadn’t had time to grow. It didn’t look like a grave. It looked like a pile of mud. I had had this picture in my mind that we would sit on the grass and cry together. I thought for sure my children and I would spend all morning sharing good memories of their father. Instead we ran through the rain to throw flowers on the mud. My expectations were destroyed.

   

In my disappointment, we drove over to Emmett’s aunt’s house. It was strange being there without him. These people—whom I continued to love so much—were still sad, just like us. It was hard for me to see the pain that remained in their eyes, but in some ways, it was also a relief knowing that, like me, they were still struggling to find peace. I wasn’t alone on that quest. They still had so many unanswered questions about why Rob had pulled that trigger, and why Emmett had not been at home with me that night. We didn’t say a word about any of it, but I could feel it radiating from each of them. It felt nice to be with some of Emmett’s favorite people. We had built many wonderful memories with each of them. He loved them more than most people love their own siblings. They were not just aunts and uncles and cousins to him . . . they were all at the top of his world . . .  they were all his family. As we left them that day, I could feel each one of them hug us with all of the love they had for Emmett. My eyes burned as I thought about all the hugs he would not get to give them and all of the memories these people would no longer be able to make with him.

     

We got back to Logan just in time to go to church with some family friends of Tiffanie’s. I felt empty inside . . . still longing for the moment I had not been able to have at Emmett’s grave. I felt like everyone in the church could see my pain. I was overwhelmed with anxiety . . . like everyone was watching me and wondering why I couldn’t pull myself together, and why my kids were being disruptive and loud. Instead of finding the calmness of just being in the church building, or seeking the spirit conveyed through the talks and music, I just sat there bitter and angry. I didn’t fold my arms in reverence—I crossed them in disgust.

   

I was so distraught about our visit to the grave, I almost considered having a do-over the next day so I could go back and try again to have the special moment for which I was still waiting. Instead, the kids played with old friends and swam in the hotel pool. I spent a lot of that weekend looking at real estate. I actually went through a handful of houses . . . hoping to find an answer about whether or not I should move back to Logan.

Nothing felt right. I got a few texts and phone calls from Walmart boy . . . but that didn’t feel right either. I was so confused. My heart longed for more Walmart moments where I could tangibly feel the faith Emmett had in me, and I wanted him to continue to guide me. Why did I feel like I was back on my own again? Why couldn’t he just always be in the seat next to me . . . helping me remember my worth and assisting me in moving forward? I didn’t feel settled about anything, and I was frustrated that no answers came to help me get to where I wanted to be. It didn’t feel right to move back to Logan, but all weekend, I kept trying to force it to be right.

   

Driving back home, I grew a little bit bitter, angry that I hadn’t gotten the moment I had planned for at Emmett’s grave, and disappointed that moving back to Logan had not felt like the right choice after all. If we weren’t supposed to be there . . . then what were we supposed to be doing? I was pissed that the answer—which had felt so simple and laid out before me on our drive to Logan—now just seemed like a dream I was trying to push on my own.

   

On our way back home, we stopped to see Tiffanie’s family. While we were sitting in their living room I said, “Hey Uncle Dave, I feel like I need a more reliable car. Don’t you have a friend who owns a car dealership?” I had my heart set on getting a Sequoia. For months, that is what Emmett and I had planned on buying. Uncle Dave’s friend happened to have one on his lot, so we drove over to take a look.

   

We pulled up to the car lot, but my eyes were immediately drawn to a giant Yukon parked right in front of us. The minute I saw it, I got chills all over my body. I had never had a spiritual experience buying a car before, and in an almost amused manner, I turned to Dave and said, “That’s the car I’m supposed to buy right there, but of course I’m not going to get what I want today.” He laughed and said, “I’m not sure that car’s for sale . . . it isn’t parked by the other cars in the lot, but we can ask.”

   

His friend walked over to us and said, “So, you want to know more about Sequoias?” I looked at him and said, “I think that big Yukon over there is the car I’m supposed to buy. I had my heart set on your other car, but I want to look at that one first. Is it for sale?” I was pleased to learn that it was. The car had just been returned from a test drive and hadn’t been put back in its proper spot.

We took it for test drive. It felt so right. That feeling I had been seeking all day . . . was finally here, and it was about a car? I didn’t want answers about a car . . . I was seeking long term revelation about more important things. Buying a car seemed so insignificant and unimportant, but since I am so not a car person, I knew this had to be a prompting to buy this exact vehicle. It was bigger, newer, and more reliable than the Sequoia. That made me happy, knowing I would be traveling alone with the kids. I was also excited to have extra room in the car to accommodate having a friend ride with us. We had gotten to the point in our little minivan where we filled every seat. So, I could see some good that would come from buying this new car, but I was frustrated that the questions to which I was seeking answers didn’t seem to be on the list of important things with which Heavenly Father would help me.

   

I had no idea why I was supposed to buy that car that day, but it felt good to be making a choice that I had not thought of on my own. It didn’t make a lot sense at the time, but in the weeks that followed, I came to understand exactly why I was supposed to buy that car. The entire weekend, I had been searching for BIG answers for my family. I was trying hard to force things to feel right. Moving to Logan was not the answer to my prayers. I wanted to do what was best for my family, but I was having a hard time seeing why my ideas were not right for us.

When we do His will . . . it can be so powerful. When we follow our own will, we will cause more pain and hardship for ourselves.  

I remember a time in 8th Grade when I attended a ski club for my school every Saturday. We would meet in the school parking lot and ride the bus up to the ski resort and spend the day skiing together. I loved it every time we went, and I always looked forward to the next trip.

   

One afternoon, as I was preparing to head up the mountain for my weekly ski trip, my mom came into my room. She said, “Ashlee . . .  I have a really bad feeling about your going skiing today. I don’t want you to go.” Well . . . this idea seemed preposterous to my young fourteen-year-old self. I had my mind made up, and I was not going to stay home.

   

However, my mom felt so strongly about it, that she wouldn’t even drive me to the school. I found a ride with a friend and got on the bus to head up the hill. It was like any other normal bus trip: kids were laughing, boys were flirting, the snacks were yummy, and everyone was having a great time.

   

We were almost to the top of the mountain when something went wrong with the bus, and we began sliding downhill. Luckily, instead of skidding off the road, we got stuck in a snow bank. We spent that entire evening in a cold, broken-down bus, waiting for hours for the back-up bus to come and bail us out.

   

I didn’t get back home until long past midnight . . . to a mother I can only assume had been praying her heart out the whole night. She threw her arms around me and said, “I am so thankful you are okay.” With grateful hearts, we went to bed. She never said, “I told you so.” She didn’t rub it in my face. She just showed me how much she loved me and that she was grateful that everything was okay.

My mother taught me a great lesson that day. She had felt the inspiration that I should stay home . . . she had a plan for me that she knew would have been easier for me. She felt strongly about what I needed to do, yet she knew that I had to learn for myself. How much easier it would have been if I had just listened to her counsel. Why did I, as her daughter, feel the need to ignore her inspiration, and go through the pain and fear that were the consequences of my choice?

   

I’m certain she is not the only parent who has wondered about my choices at times. Heavenly Father knows exactly what is best for us . . . He has a plan based on the potential he sees in us, and He knows exactly what decisions would be best for us. But, He cannot force us to do anything we don’t want to do. He will send us warnings and counsel over and over again . . . but eventually, we will have to choose for ourselves. He will not force us to obey His will . . . but He willingly sends us His counsel and advice.

When you feel you don’t know which choice to make . . . let the Spirit guide you. He cares about all the decisions you are making, no matter how trivial you think they must seem to Him.

God wants us, as parents, to teach our children correct principles . . .  but then at some point, we have to let go and let them govern themselves. They will learn more from their mistakes than they would from us forcing them to do what we want them to do. It would have been easy for my Mom to force me into respecting the promptings she felt about my ski trip. I would have been safe, and her worries would have been soothed for the moment. However, I wouldn’t have learned the lesson about refusing to listen to the Spirit, and finding out for myself how alone I felt without that influence in my life. I needed to learn the hard way that the counsel given was for my good. I had to learn by doing—even if it was doing the wrong thing—and not just hearing what I was supposed to do.

That Memorial Day weekend, I wanted nothing more than to move to Logan . . . thinking it would be the answer to my pain. I truly believed the feelings I was cultivating inside myself about that plan would be confirmed by inspiration about how to make it happen. It all seemed so rational and simple in my own mind . . . and apparently I would have had a date (with Walmart boy) if I had moved back. Furthermore, I tried to force my own will while visiting Emmett’s grave that day. I longed to hear his voice again, and I wanted my desires to also be the will of God. I was angry when my designed plan did not match His plan, because the ease and perfection of my own plan seemed to me to be just exactly the choices I should make. But, in the long run, I was able to understand that it was not what Heavenly Father wanted for me.

   

He didn’t want me to force anything . . . because He was mapping out my course. At times, it felt as if I were standing on a winding road without direction or purpose, but each day, I have been blessed to see the whys of His plan for me.

   

Even creating and writing this blog was not my own idea. I spent hours in the temple and in my closet refuge begging Heavenly Father for a different way to find the healing that was promised me. I wrestled with the Spirit and with God’s promptings, which for years, pushed me to share the darkest hours of my life and the personal lessons I have learned from them. On many occasions, I have questioned His will . . . and just like my patient mother, He has waited for me to see that His will is greater than my own.

Heavenly Father has a plan for each one of his children. He sees our unlimited potential . . . no matter where we have been or where we are choosing to go. The limitations we find in our lives are not from submitting to His will . . . but come from following our own or someone else’s will.

There have been many moments along my path when others have set my course by the decisions or choices they have made. I don’t know how this works for our Heavenly Father, but I am certain His heart hurts as He sees us suffering the consequences of others’ poor choices, through no fault of our own.

   

These moments serve as crossroads, when we have the opportunity to use our own agency to take a stand. At times like these, some choose to retaliate . . . thinking that God has abandoned them, or that He has forgotten their promised plan. Others decide to let Him steer their course. Life is not about the events in our path . . . it is about what we choose to tell ourselves and what we choose to do in those moments.

Even if the course you are on seems to be shattered into a million pieces . . . God can take those fragments and build you a new road. There will be moments when it seems like your road has come to a dead end . . . but you just have to keep going and most likely you will find a fork in the road. This is the crucial moment when His will stands waiting for you, because this fork is more than just a curve in your path . . . it is the moment when you STAND . . . unsure of which way to choose. One road in the fork leads you to Eternal life . . . and to Christ. The other leads you to endless misery and the darkness of the world.

   

It is in those low times of our lives that we have the opportunity to decide if we are going to put our faith in Him . . . or if we will forget him and seek a road that comes with what seems, at the moment, to be more ease. The course we map out alone can, at times, feel simple and exactly where WE want to be. When we follow our own will, we don’t have to worry about anyone but ourselves. We can choose what feels good in the moment. We can justify that it is our life . . . and we need to live it up. However, I can promise you this . . .  eventually that selfish road will lead to self-loathing, solitude, loneliness, and depression. It may take years for the pain to come, but it will come.

Eternal happiness can never be built by man alone.

   

It is easy to be bitter . . . trust me, bitterness has come naturally for me. It is easy to be angry . . . it is a secondhand emotion that covers up much of the world’s pain. It is easy to wallow in self-pity when life gets hard. It is easy to just keep falling, but that is not the path that leads us home to Him. It is not the road that brings healing for our pain and faith for our doubts.

The good news is that even if you have traveled down all the wrong roads, even if all the forks have lead you to more pain . . .  your journey is NOT over. I have felt blessed because in all those times when I let the pain eat me alive . . . or the bitterness cause me to hate . . . I found the way to a brighter hour, and I fought for peace from the darkness that tried to pull me back into its murky paths. It has not been easy or natural, but it has been possible . . . and it has been worth it. I guarantee that if you fight the darkness every minute of every day, you can win when He is on your side. Don’t spend your days trying to stand alone.

Where there is a Will . . . there is a WAY, and if you have to do it on your own, then it is not the right way. That way is not the promised answer if you do it on your own . . . if you put your will above His. Pray for the answers to be able to follow the Will Christ has mapped out for you.  Don’t let the ways of the world map out the roads you drive. Seek for the course that only He can navigate.

We do not have to drive the course alone. … He is the mapmaker for our lives. He will navigate us home.

Borrow Mine