everyday miracles

Howdy howdy howdy.

I've been meaning to tell a story.

Once upon I was a full blown door knocking missionary. It seems so long ago, and yet in some ways only yesterday.

In my first few days as a missionary, my trainer* and I were deciding which streets we were going to be visiting that morning. We had sectioned a part of the city out and would focus on that tiny geographical area for a while. We would sit in our car - usually with the ac blasting away the gross Florida summer heat - and individually say a prayer of where we should go that day. After that we would compare notes and go from there.

This particular afternoon the number 15 came to mind very strongly. Problem was, there was no 15 on the map. I was quite confused, but I mentioned it to my companion and she didn't know what to do either.

So we went to the other streets we had in common. And as we were heading back to the car we decided to go into this small little development.

We knocked the entire complex. There were four doors that particularly stuck with me after all these years. One, a young man who was living with his girlfriend. We taught him about temples and how we can be with those we love not only in this life, but the next.

He said we should knock on his neighbor's door, as he was religious. This was the neighbor we had seen taking hus garbage out not five minutes before.
He did not answer his door.

Then there was the lady who we taught about prophets. And how God has not left us alone. Noah talked about the ark. The ark was of great importance to the people during his time. We now have prophet's who tell us the 'arks' that we need today.

Lastly, there was the big guy. He came to the door with his shirt off, probably hoping to scare off these two little blonde girls. He didn't. He kept saying, you should go talk to someone else. Don't waste your time here. Something in me did not accept this. Why? I asked. Why? We want to talk to you just as much as your neighbors.

It finally came out that he just could not believe in a God who would allow such terrible things to happen. The Holcaust? Wars? This was just after the shooting of the school children in Russia. If God truly loved his children why would he let these things happen to those who were most innocent?

As he was speaking, I was reminded of a scripture I had read years previously. I did not know where it was. I just remembered the story. I told my companion to keep him busy as I hurriedly flipped through my scriptures.

I found it. I looked him in the eye and told him the story:

Alma was a prophet who was told to preach to the people of Ammonihah. Many did not listen, but a few did. Amulek joined Alma in preaching. Eventually Alma and Amulek were thrown into prison. Then, they were forced to watch as the leaders of the city gathered all those who believed, and cast them into a fire.

Then I read:
And when Amulek saw the pains of the women and children who were consuming in the fire, he also was pained; and he said unto Alma: How can we witness this awful scene? Therefore let us stretch forth our hands, and exercise the power of God which is in us, and save them from the flames.
But Alma said unto him: The Spirit constraineth me that I must not stretch forth mine hand; for behold the Lord receiveth them up unto himself, in glory; and he doth suffer that they may do this thing, or that the people may do this thing unto them, according to the hardness of their hearts, that the judgments which he shall exercise upon them in his wrath may be just; and the blood of the innocent shall stand as a witness against them, yea, and cry mightily against them at the last day. (Book of Mormon, Alma, Chapter 14, vs 10-11)

As we were leaving the little division, I looked up and saw that the street that these four people had lived on was street 15.

I share this story for one reason today, though there are many reasons why this story is so special to me. I share it today because of the last bit. The part where I looked up and saw that we were on the street 15.

If I had not noticed the street name, there is no doubt that this experience still would have been a truly special experience. But by looking, this experience was transformed into a miracle.

I chose this example out of many just because it is such an obvious example But usually, the everyday miracles are much quieter and less obvious. Sometimes they consist simply of taking a different route on your way to the practice room and seeing a dear friend.

Though so much easier said than done, I know that miracles are happening everyday. I'm just not looking for them. That is why I am wanting to write more regularly, to share the everday miracles. Because they exist. I just need to look for them.




*One's first missionary companion once you leave the training center, who shows you the ropes. Theoretically. And thankfully, I was very lucky in who was my trainer.