I sat in an old bus, bumping along winding roads in the Dominican Republic with my contemporary dance company. We had been touring various island countries performing at countless venues for nearly three weeks. We were exhausted and elated. It was a thrilling experience to share our hearts and connect with throngs of people through dance, even across the barriers of differing cultures and languages. This would be my last tour for a long time. I would soon be serving a year and a half long mission for my Church and then pursue graduate school. I had dreams which filled my future with color and purpose. And yet, I knew there would be much in my future that would unfold in ways that were out of my control. Much weighed on my mind and heart as we bumped along in the heat, sweating in our matching company outfits—khaki slacks and lime green T-shirts. Both of which did little to hide the salty stains of our permanent sweat marks.
I had brought a small copy of the Book of Mormon, a companion book to the Bible—another witness of the Lord, Jesus Christ. I studied daily on the bus because I felt close to God when I did. I liked feeling close to God. I liked knowing that He was with me as I looked to a new chapter with a plot virtually unknown to me. On the bus that day, a passage spoke from the pages of that book to my heart in a way that has stayed with me for, now, nearly 20 years: “And I will also be your light in the wilderness. And I will prepare the way before you if it so be that ye shall keep my commandments. Wherefore, inasmuch as ye shall keep my commandments, ye shall be led to the promised land. And ye shall know that it is by me that ye are led” (1 Nephi 17:13). To my young and eager mind, contemplating a life filled with a multitude of possibilities I knew I could not even comprehend, these simple truths brought clarity, direction, and comfort as I stepped into largely unknown territory: My way was already prepared. As I followed Him, I would not only be led, but I would recognize and come to know Him in the process of this mortal journey. I believed this would happen for me.
It was this very scripture that I quoted out loud to myself over and over again 20 years later— the night everything exploded. I could feel the pressure of Isaac’s dysregulated days mounting, about to climax. I could feel the strain of those days on Brian and me as we continued to try to navigate the volatile nature of this situation day and night in our home. That particular evening, I felt nothing of the comfort and clarity and direction that I desired. I only felt fear. The kind of fear that races in your body like a thousand snakes who want out but are trapped. Somewhere in my mind, I knew that Jesus could make burdens light. I knew that comfort was available. I knew that “the way was prepared” and that we could be led. But in that moment, I was only aware of the snakes. The pain. And the pressure of countless days and nights fearing the volatile surrender of my son to his autistic suffering.
That night we suffered greatly. An angel neighbor came to help. We called 911. And then a throng of emergency personnel marched into our home and took Isaac and Brian away. After they left, I sat on our gray couch, sticky and smelly and hurting. And, weeping, I called my mom. She was there at 2am, just as she always is—steady, sure, riveted and real. And in that extremity, I felt something happen to my shaking soul. The cracks pulled together. The weight lessened. The light glowed warm and soft in my mind. I let go of all that I could not control. And I trusted Jesus.
I trusted not in the theory of His Power and Love and Goodness. I lived in it. He alone has the power to mend all the brokenness in myself and to turn the wretched slogs of mortal suffering into ground for growth.
There is beauty when the Lord meets us in our extremity. There is beauty in a complete surrender to His will, trusting that His goodness will ride over and in and under our pain, carrying us with purpose to greater understanding, compassion, resilience, and strength. I came to know Jesus the night everything fell apart because He alone put me back together and with gentle strength, led me on.
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