Mormon (and Arabic) Hospitality

(Today's blogger: Fr. Michael) After leaving Vicky's aunt and uncle's, we headed south and did something we really haven't done very often in this trip: spent the day driving. Typically, we've done a morning routine of getting ready, breakfast and some school work, driven no more than a few hours and stopped to see someone or something for the day. Which is why it took us 2 1/2 months to go north from Southern California to Vancouver, Canada. The trip south has been a bit different. We drove all day from Clarkston (where we had stayed with Vicky's aunt and uncle near Moscow, Idaho), getting as far as Boise, Idaho at about 9:00 PM. The next morning Vicky went to do laundry while I took the kids to the Idaho Discovery Center, a nice kids' science center, and by mid afternoon we were on the road again.
The completely-direct route would have taken us to Salt Lake City with a VERY long drive, but with a little detour we could break up the trip by visiting Craters of the Moon National Monument. The many lava flows and dormant volcanoes make it a very unusual landscape. We camped there overnight and spent the morning driving around and exploring. The kids most liked exploring some caves made by now-empty lava tubes.
The other benefit of routing the trip through Craters of the Moon was that our trip took us through Pocatello, Idaho, where our friend Fr. Steve Ziton has been serving a parish since last year. And really, when would we ever again be passing anywhere close to Pocatello, Idaho. Not only was it a treat to see him, we very much enjoyed his cooking, complete with hushweh (an Arabic rice and meat dish) and all the trimmings.
After dinner we were on our way again and since we left late we weren't sure how far we got. I was feeling good and the kids were hoping to get some miles past us, so they went to sleep and I kept on driving. We got through Salt Lake City and about an hour south before I started to get tired, so I punched in "RV" into the GPS and followed the direction to what was supposed to be an RV park.
Nope. In spite of the GPS's assurance, "You have arrived," it just wasn't true. No RV park. And no other RV park for another 45 miles. Hmmm. Should we just park there at the spot where the RV park was supposed to be? The neighborhood was already asleep and no one would have known or cared. But then I spotted a church, and we figured we'd enjoy some of their hospitality. I drove to a far end of the parking lot and the kids--though horrified with the thought of us staying in a parking lot--were so tired that they went right to sleep. As we drove out of the parking lot, I noticed a spire on top of the steeple instead of a cross and smiled at the thought of enjoying such gracious Mormon hospitality right there in Utah.