A friend once told me, “Susan, you see everything two ways.” It's true. So while my experience of tubing the Provo River is still fresh in my mind, here goes.

The parallels to life did not escape me. First, when I willingly decided to embark on this adventure, I was watching from the road as people leisurely floated by. It looked like a good time to me, and I don't like missing out on a good time. It escaped my memory that the last time I did this, I was a teenager running a short length of the Snake River , not a fifty-plus grandmother, running a considerably longer length of river.

Accompanied by several of our children, and a couple of their spouses, I waded into the water, which was colder than it had looked from the road. I plopped down on my tube as others held it to keep it from floating away without me. Once launched and acclimated to the water, I was either no longer cold or totally numb, and I figured this was going to be a piece of cake. I hadn't seen any whitewater from the road. I would just float along and enjoy myself.

Conversing away with stepdaughter Becky and my new daughter-in-law Jessica, I was soon rudely interrupted by several of the kids yelling, “Susan, big rock!” I turned my tube around just in time to kick off from and avoid impacting with a huge boulder jutting out of the river. First life lesson: face forward and pay attention to where you are going. Listen to people who can see something you may not see.

Then my water bottle fell into the water. I paddled after it frantically. It wasn't just ordinary bottled water, after all. It was flavored with a hint of raspberry, and I had been looking forward to the refreshment. Soon I found myself separated from the group and headed down an alternate channel of the river. Carried away by the current, I wondered if it would connect back to the main river or if I was headed to St. George. My stepson Shawn headed after me. Second life lesson: Don't be chasing after unimportant things or you might find yourself going down the wrong path. Someone else might have to come after to rescue you.

Eventually, Shawn and I met back up with the rest of the group. They had a rope and decided it would be best if several of us linked together. I gladly took hold of a section of the rope and floated along in the company of my family members. Third life lesson: Stick together and you have a better chance of getting through.

There were times, however, like when we had to go under a bridge with pilings, that we had to split up again. The current carried us each at different rates of speed and while we were within shouting distance, we could not get linked back the way we had been. Fourth life lesson: While sticking together is great, we ultimately need to be able to stand on our own.

Not too much further down, the current carried me to the edge of the river, where I got tangled and dragged along through tree branches. Struggling not to lose my tube and trying to free myself, I finally got back out into the middle of the river, a little worse for the wear. Fifth life lesson: You can't just let the current decide where you will go or you might end up somewhere different than you intended.

Becky, an experienced river runner, took it upon herself to give me some advice. “When you find yourself drifting, face where you don't want to go and kick away from it.” It worked. Sometimes I had to kick really hard to get back into the middle of the river, but eventually I got there. Sixth life lesson: It is good to listen to people who have more experience than you do. Seventh life lesson: Face your problems and do what you have to do to overcome them.

In some places, the water was shallow enough that we found ourselves almost scraping along the rocks. “Butt up,” yelled Becky. Whenever I got to the shallow parts, I sang a song to myself, to the tune of The Theme from the Pink Panther, which is also my ringtone. “Buddup, buddup, buddup, buddup buddup.” Eighth life lesson: Sometimes the best you can do is give yourself some clearance and hang on, trying not to scrape bottom.

From my vantage point a little further (or is it farther—I never can remember that one) down the river, I was able to observe how our newlyweds Rob and Jessica worked together and looked out for one another, and I knew that they were going to have a good marriage. Ninth life lesson: The Buddy System started with the creation of Adam and Eve. If you are blessed enough to have someone you love by your side, it is still the best way to go through life.

Despite what I remembered seeing from the road, there were a few spots that qualified as rapids. There was nothing terrifying, but there were a few exhilarating moments in the whitewater. Lesson ten: You can't judge the rapids from the road. You can't truly judge a rapid unless you are in it.

In between all this, there were a few times of calm when we were able to float leisurely along, conversing and enjoying nature. Lesson eleven: There will be times when you can coast. Enjoy them, because life won't stay that way.

As we neared the spot where we were going to get out, I realized I needed to stand up, fight the current, and hang onto my tube. Taking one tenuous step after another, I reached out and took the hand of my waiting son-in-law, Josh. Feeling his strength, I was able to take the last few steps and get my battered and bruised body up the bank to the others. Impressed with his mother-in-law's valiant efforts, he said three words, “Susan, you rock!” Lesson Twelve: When you've run the river the best you could, there will be someone waiting at the end to greet you, perhaps with a “well done thou great and faithful servant.” I'll even take a “you rock!”