The Road

In the Ensign this month, there is an article entitled, "The Road to Palmyra." It is the first part of two articles. It describes the events and the loss that brought the Smith family to Palmyra, New York at the right time for Joseph to have the First Vision and to receive the plates.
I have been reading the writings of my Dad's aunts and uncles, describing the sorrow, the back and forth between the Cardston area of Alberta, Canada, and the dry desert of nowhere Nevada, until they finally landed in the mecca of Weiser, Idaho.
Last week at Goodwill I picked up a series of books (Don't judge me.  The more I buy of books there, the more I save on books there.) "The Dark is Rising" by Susan Cooper.  Old children's novels, written in the 60s and 70s.  The basic elements of the story is the Light fighting the Darkness-- knowing which will win, but the struggle is still real.  Some of the mortal characters begin to think that while the Dark cares little for anything but gaining power and using mankind to achieve that end, that the Light is careless of its mortal help as well.  It uses them in seemingly cruel fashions, not caring about the individual, but only about the final outcome.
This road that we are on right now is long and hard.  It's not just about Dan's job loss; there are other elements knocking us to our knees. We aren't alone in this. Friends around us are losing loved ones, undergoing dangerous surgeries, given scary diagnosis. Each time I hear of someone's new, looming ache, a part within me groans under the load.  How can we bear this?
We aren't alone in this.  Heaviness is lifted and it will unite us in ways we can't imagine. The Lord will be there for us.
Today, I witnessed what it is like to do this hard road alone. The neighbor boy is a year older than our boy.  He used to rattle our windows with his guitar playing-- phenomenal guitar playing. In the last year, he has taken instead to drinking and smoking pot with unsavory youth in the front yard. I was puttering around the house when I could hear screaming and crying through closed windows.  I looked out and he was screaming and chasing his sobbing aunt off the property while he threw a glass bottle at her.  He'd been locked out.  He kicked in the door and started trashing the house.  Other neighbors called the police.  They came, spent 5 minutes with him, but when the aunt came back, she told them that everything was fine.  They left.  He spent the next 10 minutes sobbing on the porch-- cursing his life, his family, and the neighborhood. His mom came home.
Offers have been made to help.  She always says, "I've got this." But, she doesn't and she's trying to do it on her own. We sat helpless in the house, wondering what we could do. Should we go try to talk to him?  Should Dan go over and offer any kind of assistance? I'm not sure at that point that it would have done more harm than good.
We are not meant to do this road alone, though it is an individual journey. The Savior, first and foremost is our Aide. Our Deliverer. With that hope, and the help of our fellow travelers, we can make it.
He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother