Yesterday, I learned of a really neat opportunity. Brianna had suggested that we go to Cape Canaveral and the Kennedy Space Center when we were here in February, and I lamely declined because there wasn’t going to be a blast off. (The truth is, it was late in the day, and to really appreciate something so great would take at least all day to be worth the trip.)
Anyway, the first rocket by a private company to dock with the international space station was set to launch from Cape Canaveral in the morning, at 4:55 a.m. I would have to leave at 1:30 a.m. just to make sure that I got there on time. Wouldn’t that be so neat to video that and put it on the blog? Maybe we could even work it into the Flat Stanley project. I just knew that Brianna would want me to go, too.
So I was ready. Brianna even called at 12:30a.m. (about the time that I was going to get up to make sure that I left on time), even though she didn’t know that I was going. I was awake and giddy. The trip would be a really nice drive, and I would be back by 7:30 or 8:00, just in time to look at homes and do everything else that I needed to today. It wouldn’t have interrupted anything at all. Perfect timing.
I sat on the edge of the bed, and felt doubt wash over me. It’s hard to describe. Without really knowing why (this would have been so awesome!), I turned off the light and went back to sleep.
When I woke up in the morning, I checked the news on my phone, as usual. The countdown had come – 3, 2, 1, liftoff – and gone. Nothing happened. The rocket never left the launch pad because the pressure in one of the main engines was too high. The launch had failed, and as a result, was aborted a split-second before the engines were supposed to ignite. To go would have been to spend five hours driving, use gas, and add miles onto the car to watch the rocket not launch.
I think it was Heavenly Father’s way of telling me that I was right when yesterday I said what a lucky man I am that Brianna married me.