Just east of Salt Lake City, Utah, along highway 80, is a range of high mountains. As one descends these mountains on the West, the highway skirts a large man-made lake. Hanging on the mountain side, the road seems perilously close to falling into the blue/green waters far below. At sunset in late April of 1999, Sevilla and I were riding with a retired couple in their motor home on our way to California. I love mountains and thoroughly enjoyed the sight of the golden sun casting dark shadows among the folds of the mountains, alternating with brilliant golden and red hues mixed with the blue/green of the lake far below the roadbed.
It had been a long day of driving and we were all tired. Joyce and Henry, her husband, (not their real names) were sitting in the front seat while Sevilla and I relaxed at the dining table. As fresh vistas of mountains and hills, gilded by the setting sun, bust upon my sight, I described the scene to Sevilla who, as you know if you have read any of these answers to prayer, is blind.
Nearing Salt Lake City after driving nearly 675 miles that day, Joyce, who was the self-appointed navigator for her husband, was endeavoring to locate our Motel on the map and having a hard time of it.
Before leaving Frankfort, MI, I was fearful least some irritation or frustration would cause me to loose my temper and make a fool of myself. Aware of this possibility, I spent some time in prayer, asking grace of the Lord to guard my mouth least I loose my temper while tired or frustrated.
Nearing Salt Lake City, Interstate 80 intersects a highway that loops around the city. Joyce, the navigator, muttering to herself and her husband, became irritated when he failed to negotiate a turn and drove south-west around the loop instead of heading toward the airport and Motel 6. It was with some slight satisfaction that I observed her loosing her temper and slapping her husband with the map. Her rather then me!
An hour and much grumbling later, we arrived at our destination for the evening and were all thankful to seek our beds for the night, Joyce and Henry to retire in their Motor Home while Sevilla and I sought repose and the comfort of the motel.
I never did loose my patience on that trip even though we drove 2300 miles in a grueling four days. The Lord was able to preserve me from making a fool of myself. Praise the Lord!