When the Mr. and I were called back in February to be a “ma” and “pa” for our Stake Trek, I remember thinking, “Perfect. That’s nearly 5 months to get myself physically ready. Plenty of time to prepare.”
But February turned into March. And March turned into April and before I knew it, it was June. And I wasn’t ready.
The night before we left, I was legitimately worried. While there was something oddly romantic about dying on the plains, I also didn’t actually want that to be my fate.
So, the Mr. gave me a blessing. It was beautiful and at the end, a scripture came into my mind very clearly: “If ye are prepared, ye shall not fear.”
“That’s odd,” I thought, “because I’m not prepared.” (I see now that might have been the Spirit’s way of giving me a little heads up for what was coming.)
I was trying to sleep in the tent on the first night, shivering cold, losing a toenail after 7 miles of trekking (downhill on Gravel Ridge will do that to a girl). I was miserable and hurting and knowing I was ill-prepared. In desperation, I said a prayer and asked the Lord to help me. I knew He loved me. I knew He could help me.