Deserted

I know what it physically feels like to be stranded in the middle of the desert. Stuck in a desolate wasteland with little to no hope.

It was 106 degrees in the middle of the Utah desert. Riley and I were headed southbound on highway 24 coming from Goblin Valley State Park and headed to Capitol Reef National Park. Red rocks raced outside my passenger window. It was hot but the air conditioning in the car made me feel chilly. My tennis shoes were sprinkled with dust and my socks were stained terracotta from our morning hike. As I gazed out the window, a uniquely colored rock formation caught my eye. I immediately begged Riley to pull over and go off-road. I needed to explore it.

Riley was in the driver's seat and I remember how he looked at me. He turned his head and said, "Really, Kate?" Somewhat annoyed, somewhat excited, and somewhat tired. He took a breath and said, "Ok, let's go." We turned off on a narrow gravel path, that is if you consider some beaten-down dirt to be a path. It definitely was not a road. No car or vehicle had ever been on it, I'm sure of it. Riley was driving very slowly and carefully. The car was shaking and bumping along when suddenly it was clear we could not go any farther. The dirt ended. We got out of the car and admired the beautiful coral and teal rocks. We both agreed it was worth the short inconvenience.

We dusted off our shoes and got back into the car and began our trek back to the highway. There was no space for our vehicle to turn around, so instead Riley backed up. This is where things got dicey. It's worth mentioning that we were driving a 2021 BMW. Why the car rental set us up with this vehicle is beyond me. Knowing we were going to spend 2 weeks driving across the desert, one would think a car rental would supply an ambitious couple with a Jeep or pickup, not a brand-new luxury car.

As Riley backed up, the car shook and rattled and immediately came to an abrupt halt. There was an ear-piercing noise that followed. I jolted forward, and he hit the gas. The scratching noise happened again, so painful to listen to that I yelled for him to stop. He stopped and shifted it into reverse and it happened again. He put the car into park as if it mattered. We were stuck. We both looked at each other with blank stares. Without saying a word we opened up our doors to assess the damage.

The subframe of the car was stuck at a peculiar angle on a large rock. The two wheels on the passenger side were suspended in the air and off the ground probably 12 inches. The driver's side wheels were buried in the red desert sand. I immediately yelled at Riley. "How could've you possibly not seen this thing?! What on earth were you thinking?" He snapped back at me, "The only reason we are out here is because of you!" As you can imagine the arguing continued until we realized the seriousness of our current state. The car is legitimately stuck on top of a rock in the middle of the desert. We stopped fighting and began to understand all of the variables in this series of very unfortunate events.

No cell phone service. No towns in sight for at least 40 miles. 2 miles off the main highway. 106 degrees at one o'clock in the afternoon. The panic sunk in. We started to work together, something we were really good at. We made a great team. I frantically climbed into the driver's seat, ready to floor it. Riley confidently found a position in the back to push the car off the rock while I hit the gas. Nothing. We tried again, this time, I put the car in reverse and Riley tried pushing and lifting it off from the front. Nothing. We tried several variations of these pitiful attempts for almost one hour. Nothing. We can't phone a friend, call a tow truck or dial 911. With no cell phone service, we were stranded. Stranded in the middle of the desert at the hottest part of the day. My heart sank into my stomach, I was scared.

In desperation, we began to pack our bags for the 2-mile hike back to the highway. Inside our backpack was one Clif Bar to share and the only water we had, two plastic bottles worth. We arrived at the highway just to sit and wait. The sun beat down against the black pavement. It felt like hell on earth. The minutes felt like hours and truthfully I am not sure how long we waited. I do remember praying. Both of us surrendered to God at that moment. Stuck in the desert, begging him to send someone, anyone to help us. Because what else was there to do?

After waiting by the highway for what felt like hours, a white Jeep came barreling down the road. The first car and human we had seen all day. I remember yelling and hitting Riley screaming, "It's an angel!!!" Half of my voice was kidding, but the other half was completely stone-cold serious. It looked brand new and stood out, almost glowing against the red rocks and dust. Riley and I immediately stood up and waved our hands and jumped up and down to get the driver's attention. I even stepped out onto the road to insure he would slow down, hoping that would show our pure desperation.

The Jeep pulled over and inside was the kindest young couple from New York City named Cheech and Allison. They were on a similar excursion and headed to Capitol Reef National Park. God knew what he was doing when he sent them our way. To condense a very long and crazy story, with Cheech's miraculous guidance and all of our grit and determination, the four of us were able to get the car off of the rock and back onto the highway. In pure disbelief, Riley and I drove away knowing we had witnessed nothing short of a miracle.

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Fast forward almost 2 years later, although I am not physically stranded in the desert, my heart and soul are deserted. I look around and see nothing in the distance to aid my helpless estate. Riley, my husband, my best friend, my heart, and the father of my beautiful baby girl is gone. My high school sweetheart, my helpmate, my partner, gone. Tragically taken from this world in the most jarring and agonizing way. I am left here in the desert alone. A 30-year-old widow. There are no road signs, no maps, or cell phone service. I'm spinning my wheels. There is nothing. At times the weight of hopelessness crushes my spirit and it sincerely feels like hell on earth.

But deep beneath the sorrow and despair, I know that God won't leave his children in the desert forever. And just like the remarkable resilience of a desert rose able to bloom in a desolate wasteland, I too will survive. I will somehow withstand this cruel environment, not with my own strength, but with a lifeline and water source named Jesus. While I'm stranded in this season of grief and desperation, hopelessness, and heartache, I will cling to him as my refuge. I know in my bones that the same God who set the captives free, keeps his covenants through generations, and delivers his people, will somehow, someday send a white Jeep again and rescue me.

Until then, I invite you to listen to my stories. I'll be writing from the desert.