From Sea to Shining Sea (Just About)

As the epic journey from Woodbridge, New Jersey, to West Jordan, Utah, slips farther and farther into the past, I can write about it with an keener eye for its pockets of humor and its many instances of miraculous divine aid. I'll start at the beginning.

Day 1 (Saturday, Sep 11, 2010 - this date should have already clued me in that the day was destined to be ill-fated)

6:30a I wake up after a 5 hour sleep (not nearly long enough, though). In solitude (everyone else is still asleep), I start making decisions about the substantial amount of stuff littered all over every room that didn't fit in the truck we packed the night before. That's what we get for driving into NJ with a 24-foot Uhaul and driving out of NJ with a 17-footer, but it was cheaper, and we are sure we're going to need to downsize for CA anyway.

7:30a I come to the awful realization that we didn't pack anything that was in the backyard, namely the dismantled trampoline, all the kids' bikes, and Joseph's highly-prized junior weight bench, and the truck is already full to the brim (from my angle of vision, anyway).

7:45 I come to the staggering realization that we HAVE packed the new car DVD player set that we had shipped priority from Walmart just the day before, JUST for this trip. We stupidly left the set in the shipping box, unwittingly making it easy prey for our hardworking elders quorum moving team.

7:30 – 8:30 After a quick Hail Mary, Pablo climbs, spelunking style, into the tiny slit of space left in the top of the moving truck , and disappears into the mass of furniture and boxes, looking for the ill-fated DVD player. We know it's a long shot, since the box is unmarked, and since Gary Losito packed and roped off the boxes with the skill of a sailor. While he's back there, I hand him the trampoline parts, Joseph's weight bench, the little white chairs, and various left-behind objects that we thought we didn't have room for. (With a few bungee cords, we are able to fit the bikes on the bike rack of the van, thank goodness, all except for Joseph's. We leave it with a "free" sign in front of our house and promise him a new bike for his birthday. He is pacified.) I also bring Pablo lots of water, because it is indescribably hot in the uhaul – I can't actually see him amid the furniture, so I just stick the water back as far as I can, and an unseen hand takes it. After almost an hour of looking, Pablo gives up and spelunks on down. There is a silver lining to this sad event - although the “Mission DVD Player Recovery” didn't accomplish it's primary objective, at least we were able to save a few more pieces of our life from the dump's gaping maw.

10:30 Pablo make one last run to the dump to dispose of all the trash and furniture that just wouldn't squeeze into the Uhaul (I think the men who work at the dump are going to miss us – we've been there 5 times this week!)

11:00 My dear friend Claire and her daughter Carla come over and help get the house clean while we pack (and overpack) the van, our temporary home for the next 5 days.

1:00p We finally pack ourselves into the van (no easy task with the overcrowding,) and the rabbits and Pablo into the Uhaul, and WE ARE OFF! Only five hours later than we wanted to leave. The GPS says we'll get to Columbus, OH, our first stop, at 8:56p. We are thrilled.

1:15p Stop at Wendy's and get a bite to eat, do our potty breaks, and then we REALLY are off. Or so we think.

2:00p After admonishing Pablo not to lose me, I promptly lose him, five minutes into driving. Don't ask me how. I was pretty tired, although it's a lame excuse. Here's how it happened: he get's on 287 north. I start daydreaming, and unwittingly begin following another white van. Before I realize it, I'm on the Garden State Parkway south! Ridiculous, I know. We spend about ten minutes playing catch-up, while I get back on track and Pablo goes the speed minimum (he didn't want to pull over on 287, since a fat Uhaul on a slim shoulder might cause problems). As you can imagine, he was a big hit with his fellow 287 drivers.

2:30p Pablo and the Uhaul are almost in sight, when the unthinkable happens – the “check engine” light goes on! We are not even out of Middlesex County yet! Mentally cursing my mechanic, who just this week, for a cool $850, changed our timing belt, rotated our tires, changed the oil, and assured us that the van was roadworthy. I pull into the nearest car place, which happens to be the Meineke in Dunellen. How could I realize how much a part of my life that Meineke would become in the following days?

2:50p Although the joint is hoppin', the manager takes pity on my sorry lot and pulls one of his mechanics to do a diagnostic test, which has access on the driver's side of my van. Meanwhile, I rifle through the passenger's sid, trying to find the road games that I bought for just such a time. The car is so packed that I have to take several things out and put them on the ground so that I can access the inner recesses of the mountain of junk. I have no way of knowing at the time the series of events that my little action will cause.

3:00p To my relief and delight, the mechanic pronounces the car roadworthy. He says that the light could mean that we might have to eventually change the . . . I can't remember what the car part is exactly, but it sounds something like “flex capacitor” (anybody recognize what 80's movie that's from?) But he assures us that we can make the trip no problem, and tells us that his boss has been driving around with the check engine light on for 12 years. I feel better. I thank the Meineke guys for their excellent (and free) service, and go to catch up with Pablo, who is still ahead of us on the road and has pulled over at rest stop to await the news, rather than waste gas trying to make a u-turn and find us.

*I just want to add a little aside here that will tie in later.I have been having a very good week learning to control my tendency to worry about things, thanks to Elder Holland, who wrote a talk about keeping the commandment to “...let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” I taught it in Relief Society last Sunday, an it has been an invaluable tool to me. This week I have been trying to show the Lord that I trust him. Thus when problems have arisen this week, I have been handling them better and worrying about them less that I usually would. But stay tuned . . . my ability to not freak out when things go wrong is about to be tested to its limit.

3:20p My cell phone rings, but I don't answer it, because Pablo (who I have finally caught up to) has asked me to not talk on the phone for a while so that he can get a hold of me if he needs to. Plus, I don't even recognize the number, so I don't worry about it.

4:30p We stop for a bathroom break and Pablo checks the messages. He tells me that the guy from Meineke says that I left some “very important paperwork” there. My first thought is, “How could I have left paperwork? I didn't even pay for anything." So I nonchalantly call him back to clear things up. As soon as the Meineke guy says “black folder with birth certificates in it,” my brain speed-reconstructs the horror of it all: I see myself opening the passenger door as the mechanic conducts the diagnostic, I see myself putting things on the road to find my roadgames, I see myself interrupted in my search as the diagnostic finishes and I walk around to the driver's side to hear what he is saying, I see myself drive off in an relieved ecstasy, and I see a close-up of my black accordion folder (the folder that contains every document that is of any importance in my life) in the focused foreground as my blurred van pulls onto the street and gets smaller and smaller.

The horrible present awaits me as my little movie clip ends. I slink up to Pablo and choke out the situation that I've created. We both wonder if we should go back and lose three hours of our already severely delayed trip, or if there is another alternative. Pablo is doing a great job keeping his tone even and relatively kind as he tells me to ask the Meineke guy to mail the folder to us in Utah, on us, of course. Pablo then informs me that he is going to take the kids to the bathroom, and to "please not lose anything else." I think to myself, "I probably deserved that." I make the uncomfortable request to the Meineke guy, and he graciously says that he will mail the accordion file to us on Monday, as soon as the post office opens, He refuses to accept any money for the postage. I thank him profusely, and we start driving again. I decide that there are two things I can think about, since I'm totally alone with only my thoughts and no media to distract me (my car radio is broken and the DVD player is of course somewhere in the Uhaul. My first pathway of thought would be everything that can go wrong with the accordion folder, like the Meineke guy forgetting about it, like it getting lost in the mail and the kids' school registration being delayed and eventually they would be forced to repeat the grade that they're in because they've missed too many days. OR, my second pathway of thought is practicing letting my heart be not troubled, neither letting it be afraid. I decide to do plan B, and I am happy to say that I get over my emotional nausea and worry much faster than usual. I am even able to play some of the classic car games with the kids fairly well. Monday morning does seem like a long, long time away, though.

1;00a After 9 hours of almost nonstop driving, and 3 nights of really bad sleep, the conventional tactics of keeping myself awake are not just working. Slapping my cheeks isn't working, singing with no radio isn't working, talking to Joseph, the only kid still awake, isn't working. In my exhaustion, everything is looking like a face. The moon against the clouds looks like the traditional alien face, the picture of a uhaul and a globe on the back of the uhaul truck, after staring at it for 12 hours, is looking like a smurf with and afro and nerdy glasses, climbing out of a hole. The signs to Columbus say 98 miles. I cannot make it. We pull over at a closed truck stop and I sleep for 20 minutes, and then we make the final leg of the journey.

2:30a It's easier to stay awake now that i recognize a lot of our old stomping grounds. I see the Reynoldsburg Walmart that I used to shop at every week, I see the Old McDonald's on . . . . what's the name of that street? Oh yeah, Stygler! How could we forget Stygler? We drove on it svery single morning for 2 years to get to the Meldrums for seminary! Before you know it, we turn into the development that we've come to love as much as any place we've ever been: the Booths' neighborhood. We park our Uhaul, expecting to just grab the key under the mat and sneak into bed, but Doug is waiting up for us, as cheerful and helpful as if it were 9 in the morning. We carry 4 sleeping kids in, give the rabbits some food, and revel in the homemade quilts and hospitality of the the Booths. I expect to sleep really well, but I'm just not used to having kids in the room, and I have the misfortune of having Rheddick, the eternal, nocturnal throat clearer, right next to me on the floor. Thank goodness church is at 11 and not at 9.

Day 2 (Sunday, Sep 14)

8:30a We enjoy a delicious healthy breakfast, compliments of Latricia, and then we pile into the Booth's 12 passenger van to head to church. We are so happy to be back in this welcoming, familiar ward. We are overwhelmed by the reception - I guess Pablo and I felt like we might be remembered pleasantly by most, but not really all that missed, and so we were so surprised at how our friends and acquaintances flooded us with hugs and contact info, and sincerely wanted to keep in touch with us. It was just too hard to see everyone we wanted to at church, and so Latricia and Doug graciously (and I mean GRACIOUSLY) offered their house as a kind of open house for the Smiths, complete with 2 huge pots of chili, homemade brownies and cookies, etc. The Booths just blow me away - I hope to be like them someday. Anyway, I was also shocked at how many people came to say hello! I was dead tired, but the adrenalin of seeing such dear friends, and oohing and aahing at how much their kids had grown, carried me through. i dare not name anyone for fear of overlooking someone, but to all my Columbus friends - WE LOVE YOU ALL! THANK YOU FOR YOUR FRIENDSHIP! CALL US IF YOU'RE EVER IN CALIFORNIA!

Day 3 (Monday, Sep 13)

Unrested and with a day of driving ahead of us once again, we are on the road again by 10:30, hoping to make it to Des Moines, Iowa, by tonight. Our friend Britney Wells has on the spur of the moment offered her house for the night, and so we want to make good time so we're not too inconvenient for her.

The moment has come, FINALLY, to call the Mike the Meineke guy and see if he still has my accordion folder safe in his possession. He does. I ask him to send it overnight so that I will have what I need to register the kids when we get to Utah, and he agrees to do so. Mike happens to be one of the two people in Jersey with seven kids, and so has a keen understanding of how the school registration process. He actually goes through my folder (with my permission) to make sure that all my documents of question are still there, and they are. I rest a little easier knowing that this man is in charge of my destiny.

He calls a little later to say that the folder is in the mail. "Wow, it was pretty expensive . . ." he hints. I take my cue and offer to pay for it once a again, and then the whole story comes out. Mike has paid $60 out of his own pocket to ship the thing overnight. Why out of his own pocket, when that wasn't the original deal? Because when Meineke boss found out how much the shipping was going to be, he refused to pay it until he had a check from me first (which would have delayed my receiving the folder for a few days, a few very critical registration days). But Mike says, "I was committed by this time, so I just went ahead and did it." He never asked to be paid back, this good family man, but the first day I got to Utah, I sent him a check for $100. He taught me a much needed lesson that sometimes, just sometimes, it pays to put your trust in a stranger. I wanted to show Mike the Meineke that I had learned the lesson, loud and clear.

So, drive drive drive drive drive drive drive drive. We arrive at the address we Latricia gave us for Britney's house at about 10:30p. Not bad, we think. We call her to ask her where she wants us to park the Uhaul, and she suggests the driveway. But here's the thing - there are no driveways in this townhome kind of complex. We start to wonder if we are in the wrong place. After checking the address with Britney, we wonder no more: we are indeed standing in front of Britney's home - her old home. We didn't realize she had moved! So we get ourselves back in, drive 20 minutes further to her home, and receive a warm welcome. It is so good to catch up with Britney - we are just sad that we missed Jeremy, who is away on business right now. Britney offers Pablo and I a beautiful guest room of our very own and puts the children in with her children, and guess what? For the first time in a long week, I wake up feeling rested! Of all the many thoughtful things Britney did to make our stay pleasant, separating the adults from the children was the most appreciated!

Day 4 (Tuesday, Sep 14)

In the morning we get to re-meet 6 year old Steven and meet Emily and Samuel, all beautiful and intelligent. We play at a park a little while while Pablo packs up, and then we're off again. Well, I guess we're off to find fresh goat's milk and a cord to replace the faulty one in the borrowed DVD player. First mission is successful, second one is not. Another long driving day without radio or DVD to keep our minds dulled. We leave white, middle-class Des Moines (a little uncomfortable with the demographics now that we are so used to the diversity in New Jersey). We eat lunch at an Omaha rest stop - has anyone noticed how aggressive the flies are in Omaha? We have to close and lock the car doors so that no more would try to eat our PBJ's!! Some of the flies stay in the car and avoid our attempts to shoo them out the windows all the way until night time. The silver lining on this is that flies make a convenient target for Rheddick's (Laman's) pent up energy. He begins hurling threats and epithets at the flies ("If you don't get out of here, you're going to jail, fly!" or "I'm not gonna share my grapes with you EVER, fly!") Keane (Lemuel) joins in and they enjoy this creative, if disturbing, emotional outlet for a good thirty minutes before I begin to worry that this verbal violence is bad for their souls, and ban fly abuse from now on.
We reach a trashy Motel 6 at about 10p in Cheyenne, Wyoming. The TV-starved kids feast on some nature program while Pablo and I just enjoy not driving for a while. We try to get to bed early so that we can arise early.

Day 5 (Sep 15), 2010

Finally we are putting some miles behind us by 7:00a. This day feels different than any other - we will be in West Jordan by 2, and the light at the end of this interstate tunnel is improving our moods already. As Joe and I look about us at the untouched prairie lands, we imagine how it was for the Mormon pioneers. We start comparing our circumstances with theirs, and it turns into an hour long, spiritual testimony meeting about those amazing people, about the prophets who led them there, about the miraculous hand of the Lord in so many of their histories. I feel honored to have had this experience with my beautiful, impressionable, faithful Joseph Smith.

As the Utah state line looms ahead (about 12:30p) Pablo and I put each other on loudspeaker so we can all cheer together as we cross it. And cheer we do as our tires leave Wyoming forever (hopefully). It is all downhill from here. The refreshing desert beauty of the rock formations soon gives way to the stunning fall foliage of a greener part of Utah. The windy interstate road is fun to drive, especially compared to the doldrums of Iowa, Nebraska, and Wyoming, where you cam make good time if you can but stay awake. Here, my sleepiness totally leaves me, and I realize again how much I love this state. My desire to ski is once again whet as we pass by some dormant ski slopes.

At about 2:15p, we pull into Grandpa and Nana's driveway, and on that driveway is where this post will end. More to come later.