Tender Moving Mercies

Mist-shrouded mountains seen through my bedroom window

Well, here I am: I write this from my couch, where it sits next to the window with a stunning view of snowy Mount Timpanogos, so close it feels like I could nearly reach out and touch it.

This move has, from the start, been an experience full of powerful reminders that the Lord loves me, that He is watching over us and that He is deeply concerned for our welfare. As Nephi said, He has certainly extended to us a number of “tender mercies.” Despite the fact that we had next to no inkling that this job offer was in our future (in the two months before Mahon interviewed with this company, we had signed a new lease on our apartment, registered our car in Idaho, and—finally—gotten me an Idaho driver’s license), everything fell into place with surprising speed and perfection. We found a place to live and sold our Rexburg contract within days; all the details of the plan came together quickly and neatly.

But the most incredible thing happened over the weekend.

Our plan almost from the start had been to load the truck Thursday night, spend Friday cleaning, and leave first thing Saturday morning. We recently inherited a lovely old piano that has been the property of a few of Mahon’s siblings before us. Mahon’s sister had it most recently, and so we needed to pick it up from her house in Idaho Falls—thirty minutes south—on our way down to Utah. We knew that she would need to get together six or eight men from her neighborhood to help move the (very heavy) instrument into the truck, so we had set up a time Saturday morning for everyone to meet.

For the two weeks leading up to the move, the weather report wasn’t pretty. Snow showers were predicted every day leading up to the moving weekend, as well as a lot of wind—a potentially lethal combination. We were, understandably, nervous, particularly about Mahon driving the 16’ long moving van over potentially treacherous roads in driving snow and powerful wind, but we didn’t see a lot of options. At least, we figured, if we left Saturday morning it would be light, so we wouldn’t be facing nasty weather in the darkness.

Friday afternoon, several friends came in to help me clean the apartment (apartment complexes in Rexburg don’t hire cleaning services to come in after you move out; it’s all you!). Originally they were scheduled to come at two and stay for a few hours, but all of them individually called me and let me know that they needed to come earlier, so we rescheduled for noon instead and, accordingly, were all done cleaning by three o’clock (tender mercy number one, though I didn’t recognize that at the time).

After we had finished cleaning, I went to run a few last-minute errands (including picking up a two-month supply of several of my prescriptions, which required an actual shopping cart to get out of the store!). As I ran around town, I kept noticing the total lack of bad weather: Although it was cloudy and there was a light drizzle off and on, the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds, it was unsettlingly warm for Rexburg in January, and there was no wind whastoever.

I really wish we could just drive down tonight after Mahon gets off work, I thought to myself. I was pretty sure, though, that there was no way that my sister-in-law could get together six or eight strong men to help with the piano on a Friday night with less than two hours’ notice. It just isn’t possible, I thought regretfully to myself.

But the feeling wouldn’t go away. (Tender mercy number two.) I couldn’t stop thinking about leaving that night; it was entirely possible that the dire predictions for the next day would also prove false, but at least we knew that Friday’s weather was already not bad. The truck was packed and our apartment was cleaned: Except for one room full of odds and ends (bedding, clothing, fragile pictures and wall hangings, etc.) that we planned to pack into our car, we were very nearly ready to go.

What the heck, I decided, and picked up the phone to call my sister-in-law. “I know this is probably impossible,” I said, “but is there any way that we could reschedule the piano pickup for tonight instead of tomorrow?” To my surprise, she said she was pretty sure that would work, and told me she’d start calling people. (Tender mercy number three.) I said that I would start packing up the car and try to be ready to leave in an hour, not long after Mahon got off of work.

Within seconds of hanging up the phone, there was a knock on my door. I opened it to find a couple from our ward who I hadn’t been expecting. They explained that they hadn’t been able to stop by to help us load the truck the night before, and were wondering now if there was anything I needed help with for a few minutes. (Tender mercy number four!) I think my jaw just about hit the floor; it felt palpably like an answer to a prayer I hadn’t even had time to pray yet. “If you’re serious about that,” I said, “I could really use your help!”

Together, we frantically tore bedding off the air mattress Mahon and I had slept on the night before and gently packed fragile pictures, electronics, and musical instruments into the car. After an hour and fifteen minutes of packing and a few last finishing touches on cleaning the apartment, Mahon and I were behind the respective steering wheels of the moving truck and the car, heading south.

We arrived in Utah, as you can imagine, late. The next afternoon—the day we’d originally planned to drive down—one of Mahon’s brothers told us that travel conditions between Idaho and Utah had been terrible all day.

Tender mercy number five.

We were so grateful to have made it down safely, without experiencing anything worse on the drive than a little bit of rain. Truly, I’m not sure I’ve ever felt the hand of the Lord working more directly or specifically in my life. I told Mahon that it felt, Friday afternoon, a little bit like I had been given a divine kick out the door.

Most of our belongings are still in boxes or sitting around on countertops—but we are here, and here safely. Expect to hear (and see) more about our new home over the next few weeks.

I have a feeling it’s going to be a good place to be.