Total Darkness

In my church (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints), there is an organization for the youth. For the girls it's Young Women, and for the boys it's Young Men. They meet one night during the week for activities as a class, as a group, or as boys and girls together. Activities consist of various things, but usually activities are service-oriented, faith-oriented, or something where they can learn a new skill, idea, or concept together. The Young Men and Young Women are ages 12-18, and there are three different groups in that age range. For example, Deacons and Beehives are ages 12 and 13. Teachers and Mia Maids are ages 14 and 15. And Priests and Laurels are ages 17 and 18. They also attend classes on Sunday with those in their same age group. It's actually a very helpful arrangement, and I feel like it promotes friendships among the entire organization as they learn to work together. 

With that background, as a very young Beehive I attended an activity to go ice skating on Utah Lake. Mom accompanied us as a driver (parents are the usual "chaperones" for these types of activities with the youth where travel is involved). I had never been ice skating before, so I was excited to see what it was all about and see if it was something I might be good at and enjoy doing again. After all, I'd watched plenty of the Olympics, and I knew that doing those spins and jumps would take no time at all to learn. 

My pride soon turned to humility as I got out on the ice and promptly fell. The rest of the evening was spent holding desperately to the side of the rink and moving slowly around it. There was one time I ventured out with some friends toward the middle, but that's only because we were in a sort of ice skating conga line, and I had people to hold on to while we went around the rink. Other than that, I was on my own with a friend who was equally as untalented in this arena. 

Eventually, I couldn't feel my feet, or hands, or backside for that matter, so I went inside to remove my skates. I unlaced the skates and sat by the fire as I rubbed feeling back into my feet. My mom was an onlooker for this event, and she tried desperately to make me feel good about myself. It didn't work. You can't tell a true ugly duckling it's a swan, and you couldn't tell me I was getting better at ice skating. Forget it. 

Mom and I sat together at a table and drank hot chocolate until everyone else had finished skating and had their cocoa, too. I sensed that Mom was a little distracted, but I figured it was something to do with her work (she was a school teacher) or a list of things that needed to be done at home. In truth, she couldn't have cared less about any of that. Her real concern was what waited for us outside. 

You have to understand that the fog in Utah can get extremely thick. Sometimes it is so thick you can't even see your hand in front of your face. This very type of fog was moving in - and quickly - as we were finishing up our ice skating activity. I'm not sure if others had seen the fog moving in or if Mom had mentioned it to anyone, but the general consensus was to let the kids have their fun and they'd deal with "that" later. 

From what I can remember, there were only two other kids with us in the car for the ride home. We were able to see well enough at first to drive a little slowly and with some extra caution, but it wasn't frightening or upsetting in any way. As with most bad fog conditions in Utah, that sense of "I can handle this" quickly turned to "I can't see a thing!" I'm sure it didn't happen in a snap of the fingers, but it sure felt like things changed that fast. 

Mom rolled down her window. The cold air blew in and sucked the breath right out of us. Her side view mirror was already developing a light frost, and the windshield had a frozen glaze over it. Mom already had the heater blaring because it was so cold outside. She was looking out her window every 2-3 seconds, then turning inside for a breath of warmer air, and looking back out again. 

Suddenly, she turned to me and said, "Roll down your window and tell me whether or not I'm on the white line." In other words, make sure we're still on the road! Those words scared me and turned that hot-chocolate-filled tummy into solid rock. I was out of my wits with fear, but I rolled down the window and looked out. My instructions were to tell her where to steer - to the left or to the right. I was 12 - what did I know about driving?! 

We drove almost the entire way home like that. Mom looked out her window as I looked out mine. She watched for her line and I watched for mine. Whoever was in the back seat sat there in silence. I don't remember a single word being spoken as we drove home. We made it home safely, but I will never forget that night. 

As a member of my church, I can compare this total darkness in the fog to the workings of Satan or the Devil. He is evil, he is cunning, and he will do anything he possibly can to blind our vision, increase our fears, lead us off our course of good and right, and eventually lead us to our destruction and death. He is the master of total darkness, and he loves it when we follow him into that path and get completely lost. 

On the other hand, we have a Savior, Jesus Christ, who lives and abides in the light. He wants us to be happy, to find joy, to succeed, to learn and grow, and to find and do all that is right and good. He will never leave us alone or allow us to walk by ourselves, but we can choose to distance ourselves from Him and walk in the dark all alone. This is not His plan for us. He would rather we make mistakes, learn from them, ask His forgiveness, and return with him to the light where we can see more clearly. 

The comparison between those two, the Devil and the Savior, was not lost on me that night. I often think of that experience when I am struggling with something or fighting off feelings of inadequacy or incompetence. I remember how difficult it was to find that white line, and then to stay on it once it was found. My head hurt from squinting my eyes and focusing so hard to see what was hidden from me. Our lives don't have to be like that though. We can turn to the Savior, turn on the light if you will, and see His line and His direction for us. What an incredible blessing that is for each of us. 

Total darkness was really scary. I still don't like driving in the fog to this day. It's one of the most stressful driving situations for me. The blessing comes in knowing that I'm not alone, even when the outside is total darkness. I can rely on and ask for help from my Savior, and He will come running to my aid. The fog of life might hide things from my view for a bit, and it might create a sense of fear, but it is never there to stay. The total darkness that night taught me two very important principles: the devil is real, but the Savior is real, too, and He will always outshine anything the devil puts in your path. 

Though I'm not sure I'd choose to go through that experience again, I am indeed grateful that I was able to experience it once and learn an important lesson that has guided my life in incredible ways. We should lean towards the light, run toward it, instead of lingering in total darkness.