Christmas Eve 2021 was unforgettable for our family. On that day we experienced the greatest anguish followed by the greatest joy we’ve ever known. We also witnessed the power of prayer and the generosity of friends and strangers and gained a new appreciation for the love of Heavenly Father.
Our son Ethan has always loved the outdoors. He’s studied wilderness survival since childhood and hiked in the Himalayas and Ecuador, and he always keeps emergency gear in his car. That year Ethan was a senior at Brigham Young University and had planned several outdoor excursions for while he was home over Christmas break. Though he usually carefully communicates his plans, he decided to take a quick trip to the desert near Tooele, Utah, on December 23. He left without telling anyone. He’d been there many times and assumed it would be uneventful.
As dusk settled after his day out, Ethan started driving home along a mountain pass. Suddenly, his vehicle hit a downward slope that had been hidden beneath a snow drift, and he slid off the road. Repeated efforts to get free, even in his four-wheel drive, proved fruitless. It was now dark, he was out of cell range, and his phone battery was critically low.
Angry at himself for getting into this situation, Ethan sat in his car to think. He knew it was best to stay put and wait for help—but no one knew where he was. Meteorologists were saying the storm of the century was coming in; the road would soon be impassable. Ethan decided his best course of action would be to gear up and hike along the road toward the nearest town.
He’d done long hikes with a pack before, but the snow and mud would make this trek especially difficult. He also knew we would be terribly worried. Ethan left a note on his car detailing his plan and set out a few hours before dawn. He left markers at intersections in case anyone was out looking for him.
A Night of Desperate Prayer
When Ethan didn’t arrive for dinner, we grew concerned. By midnight, we knew something was wrong. We tried calling him repeatedly, but calls went straight to voicemail. I suggested we pray as a family and then encouraged everyone else to try to go to sleep. I promised to stay on the couch and wake everyone if Ethan arrived. My wife, Mandy, offered a heartfelt prayer for his safety and wisdom, and our other kids reluctantly went to bed.
It was, of course, impossible for Mandy or me to sleep. While we were confident in Ethan’s resourcefulness and toughness, we imagined every terrifying possibility. We felt fear and grief all night long, but there were two specific times during the night when I felt an intense wave of panic and concern for Ethan—once at 2:30 a.m. and again just before 4:30 a.m. When I felt that panic, my prayers were even more intense, more desperate. We later learned that the timing of those feelings coincided with two significant moments in Ethan’s journey: 2:30 a.m. was when he left the car to begin his trek, and just before 4:30 a.m. he heard coyotes howling nearby.
I believe our experience was similar to what Elder Neal A. Maxwell shared about a time his mother was awakened in the middle of the night with an urgent sense that they needed to pray for young Neal, who was a soldier in World War II. Later, they discovered that the timing of that impression coincided with a particularly intense battle when their son was in danger.1
I knew that I likewise had felt impressed to pray with even greater earnestness right at the times when Ethan was in greatest need. I learned for myself that it can be “given unto [us] what [we] should pray” (3 Nephi 19:24).
At one point that agonizing night, my eyes settled on the nativity set we had in the room, and I was hit with a sudden realization: I’m begging Heavenly Father to save my son, and He willingly offered His own Son to save mine—and me—and everyone.
The line from the hymn “How Great Thou Art” then came to mind: “And when I think that God, His Son not sparing, sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in.” The possibility of losing my son led to a newer, deeper appreciation for the sacrifice it was for Heavenly Father to offer up His Son for our sake.
The Search
Early the next morning, the police department called. They told us that before Ethan’s phone died, it had last connected with a cell tower near the town of Dugway. This information gave us a 36-square-mile area to search. We contacted the Tooele County Sheriff’s Department, which began organizing a search and rescue team. I grabbed my keys, we prayed, and I headed toward Dugway.
We hadn’t told extended family or friends yet what was going on because we’d hoped that Ethan would just walk through the door during the night. But now we knew it was time to ask for their faith and prayers. We called extended family, our bishop, and a few friends, asking them to spread the word to others we loved and whose prayers we needed.
Soon, our phones lit up with messages from people offering help and prayers and saying things like, “We just dropped to our knees as a family and prayed for Ethan.” Each message gave me strength and hope. I’ve heard people talk about being sustained by the prayers of others but experienced it dramatically that day.
The area I searched is a labyrinth of hundreds of miles of dirt roads. I drove all day but saw no sign of Ethan or even car tracks in the muddy roads. That afternoon, I got a call from search and rescue, letting me know they were organized and starting their search. I told the officer I hadn’t slept in over 36 hours and felt I should return home to comfort my family.
“You go take care of your family,” he said. “We’ll take care of Ethan.” I could barely speak through my emotions. I was deeply touched by the goodness of people who left their Christmas Eve celebrations to search for our son.
I also gained a new appreciation for the times when we try to reach out and help others who are spiritually lost. I thought of parents who pray for a wandering child and a youth leader or teacher comes to the rescue. I want to be one who will take care of others’ loved ones when they can’t do it themselves.
A Calming
Driving home, I cried like I hadn’t since childhood. I listened to “Be Still My Soul” and “I Need Thee Every Hour” and my heart rate and breathing slowed. I can’t say I felt total peace, but I did feel a calming.
As I drove and prayed, I felt a clear impression that everything would be OK. But interestingly, it was not confirmation that Ethan would be OK. I just knew that even if things didn’t end the way we hoped, all would be well. We were united as a family. We had tried to keep our covenants. In the eternal perspective, everything would be all right.
When I arrived home, Mandy met me in the garage, where we held each other and cried, trying to get control of our emotions before facing the rest of the family. Mandy expressed the same feelings—that even if things didn’t go the way we hoped, God was mindful of us, and everything would be all right in the long term. It was the closest to peace we had felt in over 24 hours.
The SOS Signal
Earlier that day, my nephew contacted a friend who owned a helicopter and had experience with search and rescue. Like so many others, they left their Christmas Eve plans to search for Ethan. After a time, we received an excited phone call telling us that they had found his vehicle and the note he’d left and were following the markers Ethan had placed along his route to indicate his direction. But before they could reach him, their helicopter’s fuel light came on and they had to turn back. As they did, they spotted a flashing red light far off in the distance—an SOS signal. They sent the GPS coordinates to search and rescue.
Ethan, having hiked over 33 miles through the night and day, was just a few miles from a town when he saw flashing lights from search and rescue. He walked across a field to reach them. At 7:37 p.m. on Christmas Eve, we received the call that Ethan was safe. When I hung up the phone, our family stood in the middle of our kitchen, hugging, crying, and laughing. We all piled in our now mud-encrusted SUV and drove to the sheriff’s department, where we all tearfully embraced our apologetic and exhausted son.
The Greatest Christmas Gift
Needless to say, no one cared about the gifts that Christmas. Opening the presents we had wrapped under the tree was a formality. We had what we wanted. Nothing else mattered.
Our hearts are tender toward those who have prayed as we did for a rescue but whose outcomes were different. We know our ordeal was brief and that others have endured real, lasting loss. But we do know that as it was for us it is for all—Heavenly Father loves us and is with us in our difficulties.
Every Christmas we will express gratitude for a loving Father who so loved us that He spared not His Son. His is the greatest Christmas gift ever given.
More articles for you:
▶ A sentence that beautifully describes what it feels like to repent
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▶ 10 ways grandparents can add meaning to Christmastime
A reminder of His love
Article note
1. Robert C. Freeman, Dennis A. Wright, Saints at War: Experiences of Latter-Day Saints in World War II (Covenant Communications, 2001).
