Saturday, January 23, 2010

Where the Eyes Go . . .

Interesting weather this last week. I was driving in snow one minute and a mile or two down the road, there's nothing but dry road, a few miles later, fog. Amazing, I think. It was however pretty nasty Thursday morning and I couldn't get a hold of anyone to get permission to miss an 8:30am meeting in Brigham City, so I pushed the 4-wheel-drive button and switched into "Dedicated Employee" mode. The roads were not pretty, to say the least. Coming home an hour later wasn't much different, either.



After taking the Tremonton exit off the freeway, I could see a truck off in that basic V-shaped grassy (in the summer) area between this road I'm on because I'm getting off the freeway and the other road that I'd be on if I were getting on the freeway. The truck was backwards and about halfway into the field. So I'm trying to figure out how he ended up like that. The tracks in the freshly falling snow don't confirm my first, and most likely, scenario. From the visible evidence, it looks like he must have just stopped, shifted into reverse, and backed his way carefully into the snow-covered field, bending a guard post in the process. That doesn't make sense, though. Not that things have to make sense. And I'm old enough to realize that 'sense' is in the eyes of the beholder, if it's there at all.



As I'm being guilty of rubber-necking, I realize the front of my vehicle is aiming towards the same area. Maintaining calm control, I straighten up and pay better attention to making it to the stop sign, to my work and safely out of this storm. And then I'm reminded of a quote I heard in Stake Conference awhile back,

As my eyes go, so goes my mind.

As my mind goes, so goes my heart.

As my heart goes, so goes my soul.

It was just a very concrete lesson for me on an abstract concept and I haven't been able to get it out of my thoughts. If I hadn't realized I, myself, was veering off the road (following where my eyes were looking), I could have found myself down there, right next to the pickup truck. The exact same pickup truck that I had been trying to figure out the logistics of how it got in its current predicament. Maybe something caught his attention and, as his eyes went, so went his truck.



Two lessons for me:

  1. Be less judgmental - "There but for the grace of God go I".

  2. Be more aware of what my eyes are fixed on (and just how long they stay fixed there).

So, maybe the moisture of this storm did more for my current growing season than for Alan's garden next summer.

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