Handcart Experience

I had a handcart pioneer experience the other day.  I was making my now usual trek from Provo back home to So Jo and when I started I was feeling okay, tired after a long day at work, but okay.  But, as my drive went on, my stomach and I became engaged in a battle of epic proportions.  By the time I was on the freeway and northward bound, I was done for.  I wanted nothing more than to curl up right there in the drivers seat of my car and sob for the sorry condition that I was in, the pain that I was feeling and the awfulness of everything.  Enter traffic.  Sobbing continues.  Life as I knew it seemed to be ending.  And then I remembered the handcart pioneers.  If they could pull a handcart through the bitter cold, snow and deprivation, then I could drive my car through the senseless stop and go traffic up the freeway to my home.  So I did what they did.  I started picking landmarks.  "I can make it to that billboard, then I'll pull over and call my mom."  "I can make it to that big green sign then I'll stop and rest before driving some more."  "I can make it up this gigantic hill THEN I'll call my parents and ruin their date night.  I'm sure they'll understand."  "I can make it past Ikea, then I'll call someone to come get me and my car."  And somehow, folks, I did make it past all those billboards, and green signs, up that hill, past Ikea and to my home.  Granted, it took some effort to finally make it OUT of my car, but I did it.  And I think I'm stronger for it.  I'm sure some of those handcart pioneers were there in my car with me cheering me on for the effort I was making to make it home that night.  Could I have called my parents?  Sure.  SHOULD I have?  Maybe.  But I wouldn't have grown like I did.  So in a way, I'm glad I didn't...