The Kessel Run in Less Than 12 Parsecs

Lita

Middle of Nowhere, Northern Utah
September 2012

I look in both directions down the empty two-lane road.

Nothing. Literally nothing. I have no idea where I am at. I know only that this road in this particular direction will take me to Salt Lake City, and that and I may or may not actually be in Utah. It looks exactly like Idaho. But some good news: the sun isn't beating down anymore. It's late afternoon. The downside is there's not a patch of blue sky and not a car in sight. If all else fails, I can pitch a tent and call it a night here if the sky decides to come down.

God makes it to rain and shine on the righteous and unrighteous alike indeed.

"Well, God, what are we doing?" I sit on my pack right where it was thrown.

I want to tell God that He got me into this mess. I don't. It wasn't true. I got me into this mess. I had chosen this path. All my decisions until now have led me to this precise point. Still, I can't help but feel the guiding hand of the Divine here. I don't believe in coincidence or free will, after all. Free agency: we can choose our path but not the consequence of that path.

Deep breaths in the middle of nowhere Utah.

I look up and am utterly convinced it's going to rain and destroy the non-waterproof contents of my bag. I really want a cigarette, but I think better of it just in case a strict Word-of-Wisdom-keeping Utah Mormon should come along.

"Please don't let it rain," I plead.

Like something out of a movie, the clouds directly above me part and a ray of sunshine illuminates where I'm sitting.

"Are you serious, God?"

Sometimes, God really feels like being stereotypical. Most of the time He wants to defy our boxed concepts of Him but then there are moments like these that are just hilarious to me. I like to refer to these encounters as Technicolor Divinity. Though the humor is not lost on me, I feel genuinely comforted. I think back to God's promise this morning, to my own spiritual experiences, to Joseph Smith's First Vision.

I hear a car coming from the same direction Jim and I were coming from. It would be too perfect if they stopped. Sure enough, they stop just a few feet in front of me. A woman that looks to be about my mother's age is inside and she beckons towards me. This is the first time a woman has ever been kind enough to pick me up, and she's alone.

"Thank you for basic faith in humanity," I mutter, half to God, half to the as yet unmet woman. I saunter up to her car in as non-threatening a way as possible. She rolls the window down.

"Need a ride? I'm going to Salt Lake City." My heart leaps for joy! God is good! I can only describe her voice as motherly. She has the heart of a saint; I can feel it in her energy.

"Yes, please, thank you! I'm going to Salt Lake City too!" I hop in with my backpack and we hit the road.

"Thank you so much for the ride," I say again. I can't mean it any harder. A great peace washes over me and I know beyond knowing that this was all God's doing.