1-29-23 -- Lost

 

1-29-23

A Time Your Were Lost

Carrie Keiser

Sitting in front of my computer trying to think of a time I was lost…… I ask for assistance from the peanut gallery (Troy) and get “What about lost in thought?” 

My reply, “Oh its empty in there, How can I be lost?”

I’m in trouble with this topic!

Seriously, if I enter my mind in search of lost I do get lost….. Why haven’t you finished this story?  What is going on with that story?  You should find a better job… maybe one job?  Wonder how Em is doing? Yesterday she had frozen pant legs. Is Scott enjoying the mission? It was a pretty good day with Axl and Fae yesterday. Wonder how Zoey’s weekend with her dad went?  I need to work on my hippo for Jody.  It looks a little wonky…. Get back on task, the story about being lost…..

Was that my phone?  Who could be texting?  The relief society presidency group text (ignore), one from Ryanne… Oh fun she texting in German. 2 hours later we have had a fun conversation in German, Aber ich habe keine Geschichte geschrieben!

Oh this getting lost is a slippery slope for sure. I think I better quit, or might never find my way back out!

The Day I couldn't Find My Destination -- I Wasn't Really Lost 

Colleen Holmquist

The Day I Couldn’t Find my Destination or I wasn’t lost. REALLY—I knew where I was. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was how to get where I wanted to be.  

This story begins on Wednesday, May 16, 2007 in Wild Horse Plains, Montana usually known simply as “Plains.”

I worked a couple of shifts at Clark Fork Valley Hospital for my friend, Janine. That evening was  the Community Medical Center Respiratory Care “retreat.” My boss, Mike Biggins, was living at the west end of Placid Lake as a caretaker on a large homestead that included a bunk house. He thought it would be a fun  and unique opportunity to promote some camaraderie between the staff. We would hang out on Wednesday night, eat—and for some drink a little—play games, visit, whatever. The bunkhouse had plenty of room for all to stay and in the morning we would get down to more serious business.

The trip from Plains—northwest of Missoula— to Placid Lake—northeast of Missoula—was about 140 miles. I got off shift in the early evening and figured it would take me a little over 2 1/2 hours to drive there and since the days were fairly long—sunset was around 8:00 pm, I figured there would still be vestiges of light on the horizon and if I went straight there I should be able to find the gate as described by Mike and arrive in time for some of the festivities. I knew how to get to Placid Lake and I had printed off the map Mike had emailed that showed the route to his place. I took off on that fine.

 

I arrived at the Placid Lake turnoff before total darkness hit and headed down the gravel/dirt road. I drove until I came to a gate that I thought was the correct one. But not seeing a house or anything else to confirm my destination—they didn’t really have addresses up there—I pushed on. My phone was no help; it was on and the battery was charged but the locale was remote enough that there was no service. Eventually, after a few fits and starts, U turns and noticing that the road was getting narrower and farther from the lake it was now dark and I was feeling frustrated and a bit humbled that I thought I could find my way with a measly ole hand drawn map. Defeated, I turned around one last time and headed for home.

An hour and fifteen or twenty minutes later, I was back in Frenchtown in my own driveway. Sheepishly, I got out of the car straggled to the doorway and across the threshold of my home. After reciting a brief justification for being there,  I pulled up the email from Mike and discovered not only a map but very clear—step-by-step-step directions for finding his residence.Then I went to bed.

The next morning I arose early and headed back up, in the daylight, with my map and detailed directions.  Not only did Mike make the map with directions but he had wrapped orange streamers in pairs around trees marking the path all the way along the Placid Lake Road ending at his driveway—the gate where I had turned around on my final attempt the night before.

While I missed out on the fun and social aspects of the gathering, I still got to eat and, more importantly, I learned some valuable life lessons.

Sometimes you need more than a map. You need someone to interpret the map, show you the way, point out landmarks and sometimes you need reminders along the way to keep you from getting distracted and off the path.

Knowing that there is a way back to Heavenly Father is one thing. Knowing where to find the covenant path and how to stay on it is another. So, we have scriptures, prophets, temples and prayer. And Jesus Christ is at the head of the path and on the path beside us.