The Silent Strength of Others - A Parable
I was alone…all alone in the darkness of the freeway, going 55 m.p.h. I tried turning on the windshield wipers so I could see better and to help remove the rain that was now increasing. There was no action. They did not work. Then my headlights dimmed and, almost instantly, I was in complete darkness.
That day had started off fairly well. I had attended an excellent religion class at BYU where we discussed how the Savior taught the multitude in parables, which permitted him to teach "the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven" (Matthew 13:11) to those who would understand them. His parables had multiple meanings or applications appropriate to the spiritual maturity of the listener. They had a message for both children and gospel scholars. As I left the class, my mind was keen to the brilliance of the Savior's technique and I pondered, "How many modern-day parables happen right before our eyes, and yet we miss the great truths that have been taught?"
It was dusk, and I had been to the temple. As I got in the car to go home, I turned on my car lights without thinking. Then I remembered the problems I had with the battery after class, and I quickly turned them off again. Being a single mother brought with it many challenges. One of the hardest things for me was to have to rely on others for strength to help me out of problem situations. During the times my car would not start, I had been able to get jump-starts from other people. However, I felt secure now, thinking that the problem of dimming headlights had finally been corrected. I was truly grateful for a friend to drop me off at my car and wait to see if it would start. When the car started so quickly, I was confident that I would be able to get home safely, so I told my friend to go on home.
My feelings of security were a bit short-lived. It was dark and very late as I entered the south end of Provo. I became aware, once again, that my headlights were starting to dim. It was a fleeting observation and I did not dwell on it until I discovered that I was the lead car going onto the freeway at the University on-ramp. The curve was long and the street lights were not yet on. I was surprised when I realized that I could not see well enough to find the turn in the road. The reflectors on the side of the road gave me no feedback either. At 55 m.p.h. I didn't want to take chances, so I quickly put on my blinker and pulled to the side lane to let the other car take the lead. I pulled back into position behind him as I followed his car onto the freeway.
The rain began to drizzle a bit harder, and I noticed the lack of lighting on the freeway. I had driven this road many times, yet had never before noticed the lighting. I was thankful for the car that was leading the way in front of me, and I felt secure again. Then, without signaling, this car took the last Springville off-ramp. There were no cars in front of or behind me. I was totally alone.
"Oh, Father," I prayed, "please bless it to not rain any harder until I get home, and please bless me to get home safely." I soon noticed that the speed of the car and the wind action combined to remove the rain from the window, and I could see better. But now there was a more serious problem--a problem that if not corrected immediately would cost me my life! I needed to get a focal point, a distant object that I could use to determine my position, from which I could set my course. The freeway lights were not giving me any help, and there was no light from my vehicle for the reflectors along the side of the road to reflect back. I needed to find another source of longer lasting security, a source that would let me borrow some of its energy. But I could see nothing immediate that I could focus on or draw from.
The cars about two miles in front of me showed me that the highway was still straight. I followed in blind faith, relying on my memory; I had driven this same road hundreds of times. I prayed that there were no unseen obstacles in my path. I knew that other cars had also driven on this same road this same night, and they had passed through safely. This gave me courage to know that I could, too.
I was amazed at the total trust that was required. I seemed to be doing all right, but once again I turned to prayer: "Father, please give me strength to endure this emotionally stressful situation." I knew that if I stopped, I might give up the journey. If I slowed down, another car behind me might run into me from the rear because I had no taillights. My vehicle showed no visible signs to others that I was even present.
Before I knew it, I was in the freeway exchange at Spanish Fork. I had never before noticed such darkness. The freeway was curving, a gentle 90-degree turn that extended about half a mile. I could not even see the white line in the road, and the other cars were no longer visible. I had nothing to guide me through this turn, nothing except the distant lights of the town. I knew where I was, and I knew where I needed to go, but to what extent I needed to turn the wheel, I was unsure. Again I pleaded for help from the Lord: "Father, please help me to get through this area and this turn safely." I was ready to slam on the brakes right there. I was ready to give up. I wanted to stop. The unknown felt so unsafe. However, images of the distant cars in my rearview mirror made me feel that I would jeopardize their safety if I chose to stop now.
I drew upon the security of the distant lights ahead of me. I estimated the turn, and in the quiet darkness proceeded to do my part. I knew the Lord would do his. After going over the bridge, I could see a colored line in front of my car, about a foot to the right of my left wheel, pointing the way. Where was I? Was that the middle line? I looked again. No. It was a solid line. I had misjudged. I was way off course, about two inches from going off the left edge of the road. I quickly reevaluated my decision to use blind faith and decided that I needed help from someone else before I could go on. How could the Lord bless me if I did not help myself?
I pulled over to the side of the road, using the faint reflection of the distant lights upon the wet highway to show me where the edge of the road was. Carefully I pulled to a stop just beyond the Spanish Fork on-ramp. I thanked the Lord for blessing me to get through the last curve, and asked for another blessing to get home to my six waiting children.
It was not too long before a car came over the bridge. I quickly took my position behind this driver. He was going at a constant speed, not speeding up or slowing down, which gave me great security, and it was at a comfortable speed. I knew he was aware of my presence behind him, but I do not think he knew how much I needed his light and his silent support. There was such a contrast in how I felt now and how I had felt just ten miles back. I could very easily have gone off in the wrong direction and in a moment destroyed myself. Now I was secure and calm, following someone who had enough light to illuminate the road ahead for both of us. I was thankful for his preparation and for his presence.
When we turned onto the exit of my town, we pulled up to the stop sign. I wanted to jump out of my car and share with him what had just happened to me, and to thank him for his help and support. But as I approached his car, he turned the corner and was gone before I could get to him. He would never know of the invaluable service he had given me, the powerful influence for good he had been. I realize now, more than ever, that silent strength from others continues to see me through each day.
As I parked in front of my home and listened to the rain that was now coming in a heavy downpour, I realized that I had just experienced a parable. Just like Jesus’ parables, it too had multiple meanings--great applications appropriate to the spiritual maturity of those who would receive it.
--Carol Hill Curran Petersen, serves as a Seminary Teacher
(from By Small and Simple Things)
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