One Hour All to Myself

Today I (Melissa) have been reading through some more of the stories in our family binder. This one really stood out to me, and helped me rethink my priorities and realize how stupidly selfish I am with my time. A simple and beautiful little gem of a story from Grandma’s life full of selfless giving and listening to that “still small voice.”

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"One Hour All to Myself" 

By: Alice Gay Matheson

It was a typical Cedar City January day, gray and overcast, with a light snow drifting down, not enough to stick to the ground but enough to make the day dull and gray.

I had errands to do and needed the car, and as we had only one car I had to go to work with Gaylen, bring the car home, do my errands, then return to the school where he worked in time to pick him up. I do not remember what I needed to do so urgently that day but I do remember the need to have the car.

Gaylen had a herd of cows to milk, feed, and take care of before he left, so he would get up at 2:30 or 3:00 am so he could be finished with all the chores and then et ready, have some breakfast and be to work  by 8:00am. He would work 8 hours then come home and repeat the process, so he would not get in the house to eat and rest until after 9:00pm. That was on a good day- on bad days anything could go wrong and cause him delays, so it was very important that if I took the car, I would not be late to pick him up.

It was 2:00pm in the afternoon, I had finished all my errands, I had cleaned my house, started supper, when I looked at the clock and realized that I had a whole hour before the kids would be home from school, and before I had to leave to get Gaylen from work.

It is hard to describe the feeling of having a whole hour all to myself- it is like having something very precious just for me. I debated with myself what I would do, and decided that to sit at the kitchen table with a good light, and read the daily newspaper, without any interruptions, would be a gift to myself. I got the paper from the paper box, and made myself comfortable, making sure the light was just right, the paper all spread out, then I started to read the headlines.

Being the mother of 9 children, I was used to all kinds of small voices asking me to do something, telling me something, demanding something, but at this time I was home alone, when a still, small voice said to me “You better go now.” I answered the voice without thinking and said “No, I don’t have to go now, I have a whole hour before I have to go” and I went on reading the newspaper. The voice said to me again, “Look outside, you better go now!” I lifted my head and glanced outside, the weather had changed, there was a regular whiteout blizzard going on, the wind had picked up, and the snow was falling in big white flakes, and with the combination of wind and snow, it was impossible to see anything. I quietly said to myself, “Yes, I better go now.”

I wrote a quick note to the children, telling them I had gone to get Dad from work, grabbed my purse, and left the house. I very carefully drove East to the Minersville Road, drove to the top of Minersville Road, which then makes a sharp turn, and goes past a Texaco Service Station and on to Cedar City Main Street. As I was approaching the Texaco Service Station, thru the storm, very clearly I could see a man leaving the station and coming toward me. He was a big, tall man, had a knit hat pulled over his head almost covering his eyes, along scarf wrapped around his neck and over his chin. He had on a long winter overcoat, heavy gloves, and rubber boots, and under his right arm he was carrying a big truck tire.

My eyes took in all this while the storm was raging on around me, and I was barely creeping along, when the same still, small voice said to me, “You know that man, he is your neighbor, help him.” I did not know that man, I was a woman, alone in a car, in a blizzard and I did not know him and I was scared. The voice said to me again “You know him, he is your neighbor, help him.” At the same time hands were placed over mine gently steering the car to the side of the road, where it came to a complete stop. I slowly reached over the passenger seat and lowered the window a few inches, and meekly said to him, “Can I help you?”

My back door flew open and the huge truck tire was thrown in on the seat, the front passenger door flew open and he climbed in beside me. I asked where he had to go, and he directed me to take the old highway out away from town. As I turned the car around, and started down old highway 91, he told me his story.

He was a young farmer from Paragonah, and seeing the brewing storm he decided to go to Cedar City to the Intermountain Farmers feed store. In wanting to get as much feed as he could in his truck, he had taken out the spare tire and left it home. Then he decided to bring his young 3 year old son along with him for company. Getting half way to Cedar City his truck had blown a front tire. He had no spare tire with him, so he had jacked up the truck, taken off the tire, locked the baby into the truck, put out his flares, and with fear for his son in his heart, hitched a ride to the nearest service station.

As he talked I could hear and feel the tension and fear in him, solely for his little son whom he had to lock in the cab of the truck because it would be impossible to carry the little boy with him in the blizzard. Also he was worried about leaving the truck jacked up on the freeway in the storm. It would be so easy for a motorist to crash into the back of the truck and kill or injure the baby. Also he worried about the terror the little boy would be feeling by being left alone in the snow storm.

About 7 miles back on the old highway 91, he suddenly said, “There it is.” Looking up the embankment, I could barely see the outline of the truck through the mist. I brought the car to a stop and he jumped out, grabbed the tire from the back seat, and started running up the freeway embankment.

I watched him as he threw the tire over the freeway fence, then jumped over the fence himself. I sat in a trance and watched until he had reached the truck and I knew that the baby was okay. Then it seemed as if the presence that had been with me all the time, keeping me calm and unafraid, left me.

All of a sudden I realized I was sitting in a parked car, on the old highway, in a snowstorm, and that I was late getting to town to pick up my husband. I knew he would be very upset, so I turned the car around and drove back to Cedar City as fast as I could. I also knew that the voice that had spoken to me was the Holy Spirit guiding me so I would be in the right place to get the young farmer back to his son. I was glad I had obeyed the promptings of the Spirit and left my home when I did.

I had just pulled into the parking lot of the school my husband worked for when he came out the door. As he approached the car he apologized to me, and said he was sorry for keeping me waiting, as an emergency had come up and he couldn’t leave sooner.

I know the Holy Ghost, Holy Spirit, or still small voice, loves us and guides us. That he is looking out for us and trying to help us if we will only listen. I know it was the Holy Ghost loving, and caring, and looking out for that little boy and his father, that was urging me to leave the comfort of my home, to give up  my precious hour, to go out in that storm. I often think, maybe I was the only one who had an hour to give, at the critical time.

I know our Heavenly Father loves us.

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Ow, ow, grandma!