To give a little context for the story I am about to tell, I would like to set the stage with some background information, as well as one statement of absolute fact.

Fact first.

I hate lessons on preparedness. I hate Family Home Evening or Enrichment activities that involve putting together survival kits of any kind. My food storage is a box of fruit snacks in the bottom drawer of my desk at work, and a few stray Skittles in my purse. I would rather use the extra space in my house for shoes than for enough water to last through the Apocalypse. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but knowing I shouldn’t makes me feel this way even more. This is a fact.

And now, some background.

About a month ago, I decided to move to Washington, D.C. I knew in my heart of hearts, that place where you know things are true even when you don’t want them to be, that it was time for me to leave my (wonderful, by the way) life in Salt Lake and try something new. (As it happens, that was also a fact. What a truth-teller I am!)

I also knew in my heart of hearts that this uprooting and leaving behind and starting over was going to be hard. Really hard. Cry all the way from Cheyenne to Denver hard. And I was scared.

And now, the story.

A couple weeks before I packed my life into the back of my car and drove away from Zion (open cheek, insert tongue), I took a trip to Turkey. You know, nothing like an international vacation to take the edge off a cross-country move. (Maybe if I paid more heed to preparedness this sort of thing wouldn’t happen to me, but we’re not going there.) Despite the call of beautiful mosques, warm beaches and endless kebabs, the only thing I could really think about was this: Could I do it? On my own? Was I ready to start over? On my own? Would I survive? Alone?

(Also I was thinking: Is it too late to just change my mind and bag the whole thing?)

This is what I thought as my flight took off for Paris. Only my flight didn’t go to Paris. Not right away, at least. Instead we were diverted to Montreal due to a medical emergency on board. (It was a good one, too. Seizure! Cardiac arrest! Large group of doctors on board en route to medical volunteer mission in Romania! Life saving procedures performed!) The good news was, we all got extra snacks for our trouble. The bad news was, the delay caused me to miss my Parisian rendezvous with my travel companion, who was flying in from another city, and I was now faced with the prospect of arriving in Istanbul alone. In the middle of the night. Alone.

The only thing I could really think about was this: Could I do it? On my own? Was I ready to go forward? On my own? Would I survive? Alone?

(Also I was thinking: Is it too late to just change my mind and bag the whole thing?)

And then, quite suddenly, I had one of those “enlighten your understanding” experiences.

First, this scripture came into my mind: “… but if ye are prepared ye shall not fear.”

Second, I realized that this small challenge was preparing me for the bigger challenge that loomed ahead. If I could survive one difficult thing on my own, I could survive another.

Third, I came to understand that this call to be prepared is not an arbitrary directive designed to fill basements with wheat and hearts with guilt, nor is it simply a commandment we are responsible for carrying out alone. Beyond all that, it is a covenant and promise from a loving Heavenly Father who wants nothing more than to see us overcome and succeed.

As we prepare ourselves, the Spirit whispered, the Lord goes about quietly preparing us as well, preparing us for those things we cannot see and those things we believe we cannot bear.

We shall not fear because our ultimate preparation is in the hands of God.

I made it to Istanbul safely. On my own. I made it to Washington, D.C. safely. On my own. I made it because I wasn’t really on my own at all.

As for my food storage. Well. One thing at a time, my friends. One thing at a time.

Related posts:

1. Questions Answered
2. Advocating for the “female” professions?
3. Who are the Prepared People in your Neighborhood?