~ Friday Night Lights

There's a double meaning in that title...

I'll keep this short and sweet, and if you gain anything from reading this then I'm glad, but I'm writing this for ME to remember years down the road after I get each year of blog posts published in a hardcover book. 

Because this is one I want to never forget.

I try to go where God leads me, but sometimes his guiding hand is so gentle that I don't realize I've been directed somewhere until there it is, right in front of me. Tonight, it was an amazing, powerful, spiritual, missionary experience-- at a high school football game, of all places. In the midst of the happy chaos of the band, the cheerleaders, the brisk night air, and the electric feel of the players and crowd, everything else melted away for a little bit. There were just two people, one heartfelt and discouraged, but seeking, the other humbled, surprised, and searching for guidance as to what to say. 

I didn't feel prepared. But I felt inspired. And the night before when we'd gotten the invitation to go spend the night with dear friends in Philomath I really wanted to go... but a little quiet voice just softly whispered, "not this time." And I just said, "ok." I broke the news to the kids, and we went to the barn and to see the new Nanny McPhee movie instead. We weren't even planning on going to the game, but the kids saw the lights as we drove past the school on our way home, and begged to go to their first football game. I felt a gate open, so I went. It was the 3rd quarter, and our Titans were up 34 to 0. Not a nailbiter. 

As the game ended and we parted ways, my new friend Brian said to me, in a voice tinged with sadness but also hope: "You must have been sent by an angel." Already smiling through tears, all I could do was nod. Now I have proof: my kids ARE angels! 

I'm amazed by so many things about tonight, and completely humbled. On the way home I explained to the kids what had transpired, and shared with them how strongly I had felt Heavenly Father's influence tonight, and the quiet promptings of the holy ghost. It's crazy how much we take for granted. It's stunning to me when I think of all the things that I think are commonplace or random. Maybe sometimes they are. But tonight was neither. Of all the things we could have been doing, of all the places we could have been; of all the people there, of all the seats we could have chosen. But with his hand so quietly and gently on my arm, guiding my steps, Heavenly Father put me next to a man with a sad, searching heart, who is now waiting for the book I promised to bring to him and his wife and their son. He has opened his door to the missionaries a couple of times, and has a Book of Mormon. I'll take him a copy of the book "Our Search For Happiness," and some of Jonathan's homemade plum jam. 

Missionaries, where is your number? I need your help!

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P.S.: In searching for the link for the book, I came across this as well:

a beautiful talk called "Our Search For Happiness"