Ask the Lord for Help--Sometimes He Sends a Bishop

It was a clear, winter day when I slipped out of Nevada in the early morning hours before dawn. Donner Pass was…well, passable. It was a beautiful drive in my little, grey Honda Hatchback. The car really took to the open road, hugging the curves through the mountains, the twists and turns of California’s freeways.

My day, at the Oakland Temple on assignment, had been nothing less than remarkable. I took my time in my last half-hour there, savoring the experience. Someone whispered, “The President wants to see you in his office.” When I entered and was invited to be seated, he said, “You can’t leave the area tonight. It isn't safe for you to drive home alone. There’s a storm raging in the mountains and they say it’s the worse one in 50 years. Cal Trans workers are working feverishly but we don't know just when they will close the pass.”

In the dressing room, changing from temple clothes into street wear, I began talking to the Lord, as I often did, without kneeling or making it a formal prayer. “What should I do?” I didn't know my way around Oakland. I was new to the temple staff. Many, maybe even most of them, had traveled to be there, just like me, so following someone home to crash on their couch didn't seem like an option. I had $100 cash, a credit card, no cell phone but I did have emergency stuff in my car—blankets, food, water, flares, spare tire, and chains. Before leaving on this trip, I’d had brief discussions with a salesman and my son about outfitting my car with chains. There was also the possibility that for a price, I could have someone on the hill put them on for me.

DIGIT! The dog was in the house and would be getting to the end of his endurance for crossed legs and toes soon. I had to get home to let him out to relieve himself and to feed and water him.

“Is that a familiar voice?”, I thought, while finishing my preparations to leave the dressing room. The voice belonged to the wife of the bishop of the Sparks 2nd ward, Bishop Lund. “I’m meeting my husband in the front lobby. Come with me. He may be able to help,” she said. He wasn't my bishop but I knew him, though briefly, through my various church callings.

There was no sign of a storm when we left the temple that evening but as we got closer to the mountain, sure enough, Cal Trans was out in full force and traffic had slowed to almost a standstill. The pass was open but only 4-wheelers were being waved through. Anyone else wanting to continue this treacherous journey had to chain up. Lots of cars turned around and headed back in the direction they’d come. The bishop and his wife, driving an Explorer, I think it was, had been given the go-ahead but instead, he waved me on in front of him in the do-it-yourself chain-up line. And bless his heart, he wrestled those chains onto my car wheels in his good, go-to-the-temple clothes!

“I’ll follow you all the way down,” he said. It had been forever since I’d driven a vehicle dressed in chains. I wasn't prepared for the LOUD racket they make. We hadn't gone far when I stopped, sure that something was wrong. The bishop chuckled but was patient…REALLY patient for a man standing out in horrible weather, trying to urge a fellow parishioner down off the mountain.

We made it to Truckee, CA and a little beyond without further incident, driving under 30 MPH all the way. The trip down the mountain took awhile. The flashing, red signal sign reading, "Chains Required Beyond This Point", had been turned off as we reached the outskirts of Reno. This dear man got out into the cold, wet, and snowy night once again to remove my chains, then the bishop and his wife were off to pick up their kids. By inching the rest of the way into Reno, across the valley towards the East bench of Sparks, on snow-covered and slick pathways, I was home at last. Digit was more than a little excited to see me.

"When you ask the Lord for help, sometimes he sends you a Bishop," I began, speaking in church the next day. Sometimes, help comes from a home teacher, a neighbor, a stranger, earth angels all, or by being blessed and guided in realizing your own strengths and capabilities.

I've more stories to tell. They're a part of who I am.