sleep wouldn't come. i lay staring into the dark, listening to the sounds of trucks and cars rushing along the nearby interstate. i tried to summon up reassuring images of home, now so many hundreds of miles away. i thought of betsy and tabitha, the two lovable cats that belonged to my husband and me; of ben, the playful mutt who loved to catch frisbees. i thought about friends and neighbors. i pictured the faces of my husband and children.

i also thought about lillian, our parents' part-time maid. i could almost touch calmness when i thought about lillian, with her gentle voice and radiant smile. i knew lillian was praying for me; she always prays for our family, especially when one of us is away. i found myself clutching for a verse from deuteronomy. how did it go? "don't be afraid, for the lord will go before you and will be with you; he will neither fail nor forsake you."

but nothing could dispel the sense of helplessness that overwhelmed me whenever i contemplated the frowning mountains that lay ahead. the next morning i had to force myself to slide behind the wheel. just one more day, i kept telling myself. surely i can find the courage to make it through one day. if i just kept my eyes locked on the back of my brother's truck, if i just made my wheels follow his wheels, i'd be all right. if i would just take slow, deep breaths instead of shallow, terrified gasps, i would be all right.

if i could just visualize my heart as a place where courage dwelt, instead of panic, i would be all right. i kept telling myself that the fear of crashing through the guardrail and plunging over the edge existed only in my imagination, pot in fact. control, that was the key. i would cling with all my might to control. i would clutch it tight and take charge .

but as the day wore on and the road mounted higher, that little core of self-control grew smaller and smaller, and finally, on a heart-stop-ping grade southwest of barstow, california, it vanished altogether.