The tender mercies seemingly don't stop. And for that, I am so grateful.
I had just completed a 1,500-mile road trip to visit nine temples in six days. Many tender mercies were extended along the way to help my broken heart grow a little stronger.
Upon my return, it was time to glide back into life as normal as I could possibly make it. I planned to attend my church's stake (area) conference the following morning, first time in person since about a year after Lizard had been diagnosed with Parkinson's. Crowds became increasingly difficult for him from the very beginning, and we apparently had others in our area who were unable to attend in person. Every six months, I was sent a link to be able to watch the conference from home with Lizard.
I got ready to leave, then unexpectedly and incapacitatingly broke down into a puddle of grief I could not control. It was the final day of the 20th week without my Lizard. I'm beginning to grow accustomed to coming home to an empty house, and I still cry sometimes on the way to church each week, which was just about the only "social" function we were able to do since the end of the pandemic. Or, I guess, since before the pandemic because he was unable to comfortably attend or participate in anything upon his retirement due to the rapid advancement of Parkinson's. Going anywhere without him usually brings tears. I guess I sometimes still feel guilty going somewhere without him instead of taking care of him. It makes me sad that I'm getting used to being without him. I still miss him so much, and sometimes the grief just comes out of nowhere and topples me.
I was embarrassed by my uncontrollable tears, so, I opted to go back into the house, change back into my jammies, and just watch the conference from home. Alone. Which was almost as painful as the thought of attending in person without him. The next stake conference will be very close to the one-year anniversary of his death, and I felt doomed. I felt defeated. I felt a bit worthless. Yet, the conference was amazing, and I even watched parts of it a second time as soon as it was over because it was so comforting.
The next day, I started up the car and proceeded to my annual physical, the first time in three years I could go alone. The first time in probably seven years I could focus solely on me and my health. I knew it was what Lizard would want me to do, and I'm actually trying to become human again and make a habit of taking care of myself. Less than a mile from home, every single warning light on my dash began going off like fireworks in a bonfire. The car immediately began acting a little sluggish. My initial reaction, somewhat typical of my personality, was, "Oh, crap!" Quickly replaced by, "Oh, my gosh, God protected Susie and me all the way through Wyoming and Idaho!"
I couldn't stop crying, but these were not tears of grief. Thanksgiving hit early, and I think I'll be celebrating it until well after November. I still haven't stopped thanking Him for that amazing miracle. Had I gone to church on Sunday, I would have broken down then and would have either missed the conference all together or would have been utterly unable to concentrate on the messages. Had I gone to the balloon festival in Colorado Springs two days before I began my road trip, I believe my car would have broken down somewhere in the middle of the Great Divide Basin of Wyoming. I couldn't bring myself to go to the Labor Day Lift Off without Lizard. I cried most of that morning. Now, I see my crying spells before and after my trip were saving graces. Tender mercies. Absolute miracles. I was right where God wanted me to be. Where He needed me to be so I could be safe for all those miles.
The temple closest to me would be closed for two weeks for routine cleaning and maintenance, and I had planned to spend the entire day the next day in the temple about 90 miles from me. Had the car broken down then, I would have been in quite the pickle had I managed to get beyond the metro area.
I was able to get the car to the shop, which encouraged me to bring it in right away, without a tow. My physical went great. Best I've had in years, actually. I'd neglected a couple of annual and biannual exams, and I was encouraged to get them done right away, but I have no symptoms and otherwise checked out as healthy and not in need of follow-up.
I spent the next four or five hours worrying about what I would do if the engine was shot. I felt as if my car's motor was a reflection of my heart. Old and broken beyond repair. I knew I couldn't afford payments on a new vehicle, much less the higher annual registration, taxes and fees or the much higher insurance. I had planned to sell Lizard's 1995 truck as soon as I finish the backyard landscaping (which I've been unable to do for three months because it's been too blazing hot). Perhaps I could just get rid of the car and keep Lizard's truck... That felt like a comfortable option, so I tried to relax and not stress about it anymore for the next 18 or so hours.
I finally received the call informing me of my car's fate. I had to look up the name of the issue because it's so foreign to me, I can't remember it. I had to replace the torque converter lockout clutch. It has something to do with the transmission, and it causes everything else to signal alarms, what the technician described as my car's manufacturer's way of commanding the driver's attention. The car needed immediate attention, and it got it.
For nearly three months, my niece has been texting her mom (who was a full-time caregiver to her father until he passed away 24 days after Lizard finished his time on earth) and me a "mission" each day, an assignment to photograph or describe a random thing she hopes will hog up our attention for at least a few minutes and hopefully give us reasons to smile. Sometimes the assignments are concocted by her elementary school-age kiddos and delivered via a video of them telling us our assignment and wishing us a great day. Our mission the day the car broke down was "overdoing" or "too much." I happily submitted my car's warning lights as overkill, not knowing at the time it truly was overkill. My niece humorously asked if I had chastised my car for doing too much. I told her I thanked it for getting us home safely, then immediately thanked God for keeping us safe the entire trip.
The loan to fix the car is going to be a hardship, but I will make it happen. Imagine my shock when I was actually approved for the loan! Just moments after I received the loan, I received my first text from my new enrollment counselor from BYU Pathways. Two weeks before my road trip, I had applied for the online college, and four days before I left for Wyoming, I was notified I had been accepted. I will be enrolling in my first classes this week. I am taking the first steps to step up and improve my life and my situation, and I feel really good about doing it.
There have been some really big hits this year. But there have been some really big miracles, too. I am growing stronger. I am trying to regain control of my life. I am trying to design and be creative again. I'm trying to be whole. With God's help, I feel my journey has begun.
