A Day Of Miracles

This was written by Amy Browning Moser (sister to Eric) after recording a personal re-telling by Eric Lloyd Browning regarding one of his mission experiences in the Spain Barcelona mission 1987-1989. Originally composed in 1995 to submit for publication consideration by the New Era church magazine, it was rejected. It has been altered slightly from the original for clarity.

    "No taxi!? You've got to be kidding me. That has never happened before." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I only had a half-hour to spare before I was to be sitting on a train headed for Huesca, Spain. The operator explained that a large convention in the city had booked every possible taxi but to call again later.

    Being a missionary in the Spain, Barcelona Mission, I was preparing for the longest transfer possible in our mission. I would travel from Murcia, the most southern part of the mission, to Huesca, the most northern edge of the mission--about a 12 hour trip by train, covering a distance of 800 km or 500 miles.

    Due to the nature of train travel in Spain, it was imperative that I caught the first train. It would allow the first link in a series of links over an 11 hour period that would eventually take me to Huesca. The first link, in Madrid, would be outside of the mission boundaries. I had very little money, and if I missed the connecting train to Zaragoza, I would have to wait an entire day...outside of my mission boundaries and alone!

    I paced the floor and glanced at my watch. I needed to be there on the hour. Twenty-five minutes remaining. It would take 15 minutes to drive to the train station. I was running out of time.

    I tried calling the taxi station again only to hear the same answer. There were no taxis! Fearing to waste another minute, my companion and I decided to start walking the 6-7 blocks to the nearest taxi stand because it was always full of taxis.

    My companion lugged one of my solid, overstuffed suitcases down the six flights of stairs and I packed the rest. With a suit bag on my back, plastic grocery bags of  "odds and ends" on my arms, and an additonal weighty suitcase under tow, we reached the street.

    Breaking a hopeful sweat under the load and the humid morning, we briskly approached an empty taxi stand. With only 17 minutes until my train sped away, I called the taxi operator again from a nearby phone booth. Still, there were no taxis. Helplessness engulfed me and I turned to the only source left.

    Frantic, I prayed, "Heavenly Father, if you want me to catch this train...if you want me to go to Huesca...then get me a taxi and get it now!"

    Suddenly, a horn beeped from behind us. We turned to see a taxi driver who was asking us something. "Do you need a taxi?" With gapping jaws at a prayer so immediately answered, we nodded a unanimous "yes!"  and clambored aboard as quickly as possible. Sitting in the taxi, we acknowledged the miracle that had just taken place.

    Stumbling up into the train, the doors closed behind me...and my "greenie" companion. I had made it onto the train just in time, but my companion who was helping me with my luggage, had not made it back off. He was now stuck with me. Miraculously, a young member-friend had also followed us onto the train, hoping to say good-bye. He was a native to the land and promised to stay with my greenie companion until he was back to his familiar territory.

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    The train to Madrid ended up having problems down the track, and our arrival was over an hour and a half late. I had missed my connection to Zaragoza, the next stop on the line, and was stranded more than 400 miles from my destination.  Exhausted, I dropped my baggage at the top of  a stairway and read the board for alternative ways to get to my goal. There was only one additional train scheduled to go to Zaragoza, but it was a fast, luxury train. I did the math in my head. I did not have enough money to purchase that ticket and subsequent tickets to make it all the way to Huesca with the money I had. I needed to call my mission president and tell him of my situation. 

    Burdened by all my baggage, I glanced over the crowd and noticed a blonde lady who appeared to be in her early 30's. She seemed to carry a glow and radiate goodness and I felt prompted she was a trustworthy person. I approached her and asked, "Can you help me?" She agreed to watch my bags while I made a phone call.

    After telling my mission president my situation from the "use first-pay later" phone, I then stood in line to pay my phone bill. Suddenly, I realized I had left my money in my bags with the woman. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I remained in the line, with everyone else, and pretended to be calm.

    As I approached the window to make my payment without any money, the man next to me offerred, "Do you need any money?" Without hesitaiton, he threw a handful of pocket change on the counter and paid my telephone bill. I thanked him and again witnessed the hand of God in this transfer by yet another miracle.

    I returned to find my luggage safe and secure with the young woman waiting for her train. I couldn't stand the thought of staying in Madrid all night. I decided to make a go of it and scrounged up enough money in my bags to make up the difference between the ticket amount I had credited to me from the missed train and the cost of the luxury-line ticket. I would be out of money completely, but I would be closer to my destination and back in the mission boundaries.

    After buying my ticket, I waited with my new found friend. I learned that she was receiving the missionary discussions back home. Feeling prompted by the Spirit, I shared with her my testimony of the gospel and gave her a copy of the Book of Mormon.  

    It had been a unique day to say the least. Now I was hungry, thirsty, and penniless. Without solicitation from me, the "luggage-keeper," with her angelic, compassionate qualities, bought me a sandwich and drink and quieted the thunder in my belly. I thanked her profusely.

    "I want to do something for you, " she added. Into my hand she placed the eqivalent of an American ten dollar bill. The beginning of yet another miracle.

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    The train reached Zaragoza late in the evening and I feared that I would be unable to find a bus going to Huesca. I reflected on the taxi incident early this moring and the countless heavenly interventions I had encountered. I knew I was wanted in Huesca today. I chanced a call to the bus station. Following a pattern of little miracles, I learned that the last bus to Huesca had been delayed for over an hour. I still had a chance!

    Using the money given to me by the lady in Madrid, I was able to pay for the taxi to the bus station and for a $4 bus fare. Finally, I was standing on Huesca soil!

    The bus station was void of a welcoming committee when I arrived. The night was dark and chilly. The last anyone had heard from me, I was stuck in Madrid. I hopped into a taxi and rode the few miles to the unfamiliar address I had been given. Only left-over change remained in my pocket from the ten dollars given to me earlier.

    The taxi rolled to a stop and the driver punched the meter. As a final testimony of this day of miracles, I had the exact amount on the meter, to the penny, in my pocket--not a penny more, not a penny less. The concluding event in a day that blessed and kept a young missionary in a foreign land. "I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them (1 Nephi 3:7).

    Ringing in harmony with President Gordon B Hinckly, I too testify that God will make a way even when it appears that there is no way (see "If Ye Be Willing and Obedient," Ensign, July 1995). I had placed my complete trust in God with willingness to serve wherever I was needed. Despite the apparent obstacles that transfer day, He opened each closed door for me. "No obstacles are insurmountable when God commands and we obey." (Heber J. Grand in Conference Report 18 Oct 1899).

Journal of A Child's Hope Trip to Tijuana, Mexico, October 2020

 Tuesday:  I left home after notes under Bryce and Jesse's pillows with a Farr's Huckeberry chocolate bar. I arrived at Elise's Lux concert at 7:10 after stopping for a drive-thru cheeseburger at McDonalds when what I really needed was a bathroom! However, the dining room was still closed due to Covid.  The concert started at 7:30 and was one hour of impressive choral music in black dresses and tuxes. We slipped off for a bite of ice cream at a colonial style ice cream shop and I ordered "Constitutional crunch."  I slept in Elise's spare bedroom.

Wednesday: We left Elise's at 8am to meet our ride at Maeser Prepatory Academy (Elise's school). They were a little later than us. We had to scrape windows. I crawled in the back of Shannon's Pilot SUV with two of Elise's students, Alaina and Alysia. They appeared good friends, laying on each other or draping legs over one another without permission. We at lunch in Cedar City.  Arrived in San Diego at 8 pm and found our fun beach house rental. We walked to an Italian diner, ate outside due to Covid, passed a "farmers market" where rukous, repetitive drumming, dancing, and marijuana made my heart hurt for the people there.  The serving size of my lasagne dinner was huge. I ate half and planned to eat the next day for lunch but instead it got thrown away. I began feeling like a cold was coming on, a little scratch in my throat and some sneezing. I slept alright with some meds.

Thursday:  I woke up and showered, knowing it was my last nice shower for a few days. We then walked into town a couple blocks away for a breakfast of chocolate muffin and smoothie. We headed to the beach and enjoyed the warm sun and viewing surfers. We watched "King Triton" do yoga on the beach. We walked back to the beach house to check out then drove to meet the rest of our group in a Walmart parking lot to convoy to Tijuana's border crossing. They didn't even stop us! Easy. Difference in living conditions were immediately noticeable. This area of Mexico had garbage and rubble everywhere. Tin huts/slums abounded. I wondered, "how do people live that? How can their health tolerate it?" The roads were paved and then dirt and then paved. "On-ramps" were slits in divided roadsways. It was crazy, no rules driving. Shannone did great adjusting her driving.

We arrived the orphanage and got a little tour, unloaded our things in our rooms with 6 bunks each. Our room has one young man, a 17 year old with his mom and sister. All nice people. Many already knew each other but I was alright with that. The kids were shy around us generally. We had awkward, forced interactions, and I didn't speak their language. I brought out the ankle jump rope which some kids tried. Later, we saw girls crying and learned their dog of 3 weeks had not come thru the nuter operation. Lisa Page's sister, Linette, is one of the moderaters here. Lisa Page is from Blackfoot.

By fireside, we played a game to learn more about each other. "I have never ever... " Went to bed by 10:30. Somebody in our room snored, someone breathed loudly. Gratefully, I had benedryl that knocked me out some. Headache, tired, and sneezing!

Friday: Today we painted the library in the school. It had a "computer" room in bright green and the "book room" with all sorts of colors and shapes. In moving the book shelf, it broke, so we did some emergency unloading. We primed everything and then had lunch. A couple other construction projects were also going on. We left for a picnic in the park and followed our google pin-only that is not where everyone really went. So we made it at last and there was barely any food left. The park was not my standard of a park with barely any grass. I played games with the kids (Missionary tag) and did crafts. It was pretty hot. The first thing I needed to do was  use the public bathroom. But there was no TP! Thankfully, due to this cold, I had a kleenex in my pocket for the boogies I had advanced to in my nose. We were there until 4 pm. We tried to beat the traffic home because roads here are literally insane. We had a pizza party at the ophanage. Firside with our group at 8 pm with tea lights and "lighting the world" wherever we go. I snuck away for a shower after dinner and it felt great. Still have a headache and boogies. Miserable at times but gererally ok.

Saturday:  Woke up in the middle of the night for a potty run. We have 2 toilets for women and can't flush anything but what comes from the body. Otherwise, you fish it out with the hook. Surprisingly, I don't get overwhelmed by "poopy dirty paper" smells. I guess the trick is you turn it all face down.  I haven't had any forgetful moments, yet. We got up and went to the bakery distrubution down the road. We had gone over yesterday to inquire. We bought bread for everyone. It's weird to not be able to communicate with everyone. I can kind of guess what they are talking about, but can't really respond.

 We painted colors on the library walls today, scrubbed the floors, put it back together, etc. I was there until the bitter end. Had a yummy lunch of chocolate chicken. We went shopping for care baskets at a big grocery store. Like a big army with our red bags and matching T-shirts, we each bought the same supplies for a family. We also bought some clothes for 3 new orphanage kids that have very little, including lots of underwear! We returned to the orphanage and like an army again, walked down to the destitute area of plywood houses to delivere our care baskets to some extremly needy families. There was a shallow ditch and a smell...Elise says it is their open sewer and everyone said to avoid the water. It's surprising. 

One man, Alberto, looked so lonely watching all of us walk by that I wanted to go see him. Since I can't speak Spanish, Elise informed me that he moved here from the south 10 years ago, looking for a better life. He sells ice cream. He has lived with the family he is with now for 2 years. They had moved from one side of that stinky ditch to the other. a little fence around their cement structure. Not much of an upgrade, but Elise pointed out he has a roof now. Looked pretty awful from their courtyard where they were digging a 4x4 pit for some unkown reason. We gave him our bag.

We had Shannon's bag to give away too so we kept looking and ended up back tracking to the first corner house. Wow. So many-10 people!- lived in this..."fort". They had bunkbeds and a toilet with new cement around it...but no "official" plumbing. We tripped in over a pile of rubble which may never be moved based on what I see around here. A grandma had a son and his girlfriend and 3 kids, a daughter and a friend. Dogs, chickens, dirt floors, a fridge--I think. clothes hung around us, a puddle in the middle of a dirt floor. One lightbulb-possibly a TV somehwere-a stench. Dirty feet, flip flops. It was messy and the grandma was embarrased about that. They were very grateful for the bag of food and necessities. (We have it so very good in the US.) An at least partial open roof. They came to the area 20 years ago to make a better life. In Chappa, she still has 2 children she hasn't seen since, but what do you do when you can't affort life? A young woman (20-25?) walked in as we were leaving. Her face was pretty caked with makeup but she smelled good and looked surprisingly very clean. How do they do that living here? I guess we could all live with much less than we have.

We came back to street tacos with the orphanage. So very good. Made friends with Angel, Angelica, Bernardo because they delivered with us. We were asked to pray with the homes we visited, but the second home was ackward about it, according to Elise. It was inspiring to watch Elise communicate with these people today. She has a way and loves these people. I do too, but not the life here. I will gladly go home.

Sunday:  Today we went to church at a branch. The building was in like a strip mall. There were 40 of us and 12 of them. The man giving one of the talks ended up being from Elise's mission way down south! She said she had dinner in his home several times and his relationship with his wife was always weird. He is separated from her now so I don't know his actual status. People have a hard time getting married or divorced in Mexico because you have to go to the town you were born in and people just don't have money to live let alone travel. Again...so grateful for the USA!!

Hidden Lake

 One July 4th weekend during my 13th year, my family of 9 took an overnight hike to a place called Hidden Lake. It was the first time I had done a hike like this let alone the fact that I was also going to be carrying a backpack with my provisions for sleeping and eating.

The morning started out well. We had spent the night in our little trailer in the parking lot of the trail head. It was a lovely morning and as we started down the trail, the meadow smelled fresh and lovely. The only immediate down-side was the thrash of mosquitoes following us.

The flat trail very soon turned uphill. It overwhelmed my body. I was not accustomed to this type of physical exertion. I was not accustomed to the freshly hatched swarms of mosquitoes that landed on me every time I tried to catch my breath. My pack felt so heavy, my muscles were tired, I felt hopeless that we would ever arrive at our destination.

At one point, my two older brothers asked for and were given permission to forge ahead of us to the lake. I guess we were traveling too slow for them. I was embarrassed and a little peeved that my younger siblings weren't struggeling like me. They headed off with the older brothers. Along the trail I trudged, begrudgingly. Wishing I had never agreed to this. My older sister tried to distract me with singing. I couldn't sing! I could hardly breath! There was no getting a smile out of me because I presently hated life. I was utterly miserable.

After some time, voices caught my attention as I realized my brothers had returned with big smiles and empty backs. They had found our destination. My brother, Eric, stopped in front of me and asked if he could take my backpack. As he lifted it off of my shoulders, I restrained a sob. I was so grateful! 

We continued on our journey, much relieved and my mood much improved. As I walked, overwhelmed at the kindness of my older brother, I related his actions to what Jesus Christ does with sin: An elder brother relieving us of the burden.

The Final Blow

 One night I came home from a youth fireside where I had been given a picture of Jesus Christ to hang in my room and serve as a reminder of who I wanted to become like. I went down the stairs toward my bedroom and found my younger sister dressed in some of my clothes. Immediately I became enraged.  I grabbed her smaller frame by the shoulders, pushed her back against the wall, and gave her a very satisfying undercut to the belly. Her belly wasn't expecting this becaue it felt like very fresh play dough. There was no resistance from her muscles at all. It was too easy. Until this moment, our physical fights had only included pinching, hitting, and pulling hair. This was definitely an acceleration to our physical confrontations, or rather MY confrontations with her.

She fell to the floor groaning, probably over-reacting in her writhing about and with hollaring that would naturally bring a parent. Deathbed repentance was kicking in. Had I overreacted to her helping herself to my closet? As expected, Mom appeared on the stair landing with a hand on her hip and a very disappointed look. She sternly uttered, “I hope you are satisfied.”

She had glanced at the pool table behind me. Why? I glanced over my left shoulder. Sitting just where I had left it to free my hands for that upper cut, was that picture of Christ that I had just been given. How could I have forgotten Him so quickly?  All over stupid clothes. I felt embarrased and ashamed. I made a private/personal decision that moment that I would never again hit or punch or kick or upper cut my sister again. No matter what. That was in 1984 and I can report now in 2024 that I have kept that promise. It took some restraint initially, but it has been pretty easy the last, oh, 39 years or so. She is a dear, best friend to me.

There is a story in the Book of Mormon about a group of people (The Anit-Nephi-Lehis) who after learning about Jesus Christ, not only repented of their many murderous sins, but also burried their weapons of war so they could not ever retrieve them again. If their enemies came upon them, they would rather lay down and die than offend God by staining their swords again. They burried their weapons of war, FOR peace. And so did I.

He Hears Me

     I am much like those who have “just always believed.” However, that “believing” didn’t come magically or without any effort.  It was built upon, line upon line, and over years of religious living in my home. 

    I never felt like we were overly religious.  We were just doing the things that I was taught to do at church.   We observed the Sabbath Day.  We held FHE on Monday nights (complete with lesson, game, and refreshment).  We had our family prayers, family meals, and family scripture reading.  I was privileged to receive father’s blessings when needed and watched my father and mother serve in their church callings and be visiting and home teachers. Home teachers showed up nearly monthly with a message for my family.  I said my prayers at night and relied on the power of prayers whenever it was needed.  For many years, I assumed all homes were like ours.  That said, I wasn’t a perfect child nor were we a perfect family, but with my parents and family I learned the value of prayer. We prayed for my friend after a horse accident; for my mom in the hospital, for our broken down jeep in the middle of nowhere, for siblings on missions, for lost pets, keys and shoes.  I knew early on that when you needed help, you prayed.

    When I was a sophomore in seminary, I had a particularly motivating lesson on the Atonement of Jesus Christ and repentance. I knew I had things to repent of. For several years, I had been trying to ‘heal’ myself before repenting because I thought I had to be “over it” for it to be sincere. Then I learned about the enabling power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Through sincere efforts to correct and change my life by turning to Christ, He would strengthen me in my effort to keep his commandments. I learned that I could repent as many times as was needed.

    So one evening I knelt by my bed, alone in my basement bedroom, and confessed my sin to the Lord. I spoke out loud, though quietly, with tears streaming easily down my face. I felt very humble before Deity.  He wasn’t just a figure of my imagination, but very real and almost tangible as I pictured myself at his knee as I had been taught to do by my young women leaders.  As I proceeded with my confession and my desire to be rid of it and make things right, a warm feeling began to engulf me and I knew He was listening. I knew there was more I needed to do before my repentance was complete, but the experience was so moving, I did not delay and more importantly, I knew for myself that all I had ever been taught was real. 

    When I was a little girl, I was often afraid of the dark. I did not like waking up at night and finding the shadows in my bedroom reaching out to me. I had been taught to pray during these times, which I did, many times. Partly because my pitifully quiet cries for my mother didn’t seem to arouse her from sleep. Eventually, I figured out a “proactive” bedtime prayer: “Please help me that I won’t see things or hear things that aren’t really there.” 

    As a freshman in college home for Christmas break, I found myself the last to bed following a date. I was staying in my 16 year old sister’s room, across the hall from my parents.  I knelt for prayer before crawling into bed next to her. Soon after doing so, I heard an odd sound outside the bedroom window that caused my heart to skip a beat. I bravely knelt again and offered my childlike preventive prayer real quick-like.  I tried to settle myself in the sheets but again heard something faint and distant yet out of the ordinary. I am not sure how, but my body knew. For the first time ever, I experienced REAL fear. I found myself literally frozen to my bed. This was different than any of the dozens of times I had woken up as a child. My tongue tripled in size, my body became hot, my heart raced. My ears became keener and my mind alerted to desperately account for these faint noises. Again, I turned to the only source I felt I had and prayed. I begged the Spirit of the Lord to wake up my parents and bring them to my rescue.  No one came. I prayed more, but felt very alone. How could this be with my sister was asleep right next to me and a house full of family? 

    The floor board outside of my room creaked. That was no imagination. This spelled real danger.  The open doorway was darker than my bedroom. I could not see anyone, but I could feel someone standing there.  I began planning evasive maneuvers. I considered yelling out. But something stilled me and my massive sized tongue and said simply, "wait." So, I waited, silently, and repeatedly pinching my sister. I thought if I could get her to say something, the intruder would know WE (as in two of us) are awake and he would leave. But she was no help. I heard the brushing sound of denim or corduroy against itself and in my mind could see him turning to leave. Again, I heard a faint noise and assumed it to be a departure through the front door. Still seaking companionship, I pinched Becky again, a little more skin between my fingers.  This time, she muttered something sleepily. I answered as nonchalantly as I could, “Becky, you are snoring.” With another muffled response from her, I bounded out of bed, turning on the light and waking her fully. I told her what had happened then bravely ran across the hall and woke my parents.

Together, we all entered the living room area where we found the pathway of our unappreciated guest. His snowy footprints testified on our plush, golden carpet. The sliding door drapes eerily floated away from the outside current.  I wondered out loud why my prayers had not been answered; why no one had come to my rescue.

Recently I heard Elder Bednar speak that if we are being "good boys and girls" we are in reality being led by the spirit and we won't even know it most of the time. As I have had years to refect on this experience, I know my prayers were answered in the Lord’s way and in His timing.

1. My parents had prayed for protection before going to bed that night. We had been protected. No one had been touched, nothing had been taken, and “he”, with his size 10 ½ shoes, had left on his own accord.  

2. I had HEARD things that REALLY WERE there. My spirit knew it and had responded before I had even fully processed what was happening.  

3. My dad did not need to come to my rescue and have a hallway confrontation with whomever it was, which might have led to irreversible consequences.

4. I had dismissed a trip to the basement to find my mouth retainer. I had considered doing this just before crawling into bed.  Had I done this, I would have done it in relative darkness because I know the route well and was wide awake. Had I done so, I would not have heard the first “alarm” and might have even met the intruder face to face at the top of the stairs as I returned to my room.

5. There was a literally a vision granted to me of the intruders feet and legs turning to leave. 

In retrospect, this was divine protection and intervention. I didn't know it at the time, but I do now.

    I share this experience because it was a HUGE moment for me and I was afflicted for many years by the after effects of it. As much as I acknowledge that the Lord was there to protect me, as much faith as I wanted to have that he would continue to bless and protect me, I had still encountered a very frightening experience.  For ten years, I suffered off and on with fears of someone coming into my house at night time. Prayer was always my go-to when these moments came.

    I have had multiple experiences with prayer that testify to me that the Lord hears and answers prayers, in his own way, in his own timing, and ultimately for our learning and growth.  Those nights I stood with a prayer on my lips, trembling, trying desperately to find the courage to move my feet and check for locked doors myself were moments that taught me courage and reliance on the Lord. Fear paralyzes and is the devil’s tool.  PTSD is also real, and that is what I was experiencing without knowing what to call it. Though I feared for a long time, I do not anymore.

    I know He hears me! 

Whatever Floats Your Boat

    Sometime during our summer of 1990 engagement, Bryce invited me to Grant to float the canal. It was a lovely summer day. We drove several miles east from their home and put someone’s new 2-man inflatable raft in the water. The canal was nice and wide and we settled in for an enjoyable, cozy float. It was exciting to be off doing something with just the two of us, especially something I had done little of.

    We admired the fields we passed, moo’d at the cows, and enjoyed the tree-lined banks that provided shade from the summer sun. We noted some tree branches ahead of us completely encroaching the width of  our path. Trees over water can be dangerous so we worked quickly to prepare for its challenge by working together hanging onto branches to swing us around into clearer currents. That added a little charm to the day and was quickly and safely navigated.

    Not too much later, another problem presented itself. A fence strung across the canal became visible. It was mostly underwater but too far above the water to go over. There was a small area on the left side that we might  “just fit” through if maneuvered skillfully. To complicate matters, an additional barbed wire hung threateningly across the canal too. Bryce explained the game plan. He would stand in the raft and step over the fence and barbed wire as I was to flatten myself out in the bottom of the boat.  As Bryce stepped over the fence , he pulled up on the barbed wire so the raft could pass through unscathed. It was tricky business and would require a steady hand.. Silently and with tandem effort, we somehow managed to make it through.  Bryce didn’t fall in or tip us over!  I was ready to celebrate our success but just then Bryce let go of the barbed wire. As the wire sprung back into place, it punctured the back of the raft and we heard the dreaded sound of air escaping rapidly. Working very quickly “MacGyver” style, Bryce asked for my chewing gum. He placed a temporary patch on our boat and we proceeded without too much loss. I think one of us kept a finger close to our patch the rest of the trip.

    Our troubles were not over though. This float was only supposed to take an hour as it was, but somehow obstacles kept finding their way in our path! We soon came to a bridge that crossed the expanse of the canal with head room only for fish or maybe some swimmers not afraid of tight spaces.  As both of us were dressed in shorts and t-shirts and did not plan to get wet, we paddled over to the right side of the canal, carefully exited, walked around the bridge, and then re-entered the waters. We began to wonder if this trip was worth all this effort!

    Before our journey ended, we  encountered a check-point “dam.” The water fell noisily over the boards in front of us. To  the side bank we went yet again. Except this time, we exited the float. Our excitement had been enough for one day.

    Despite the disruptions in our “restful afternoon float”, this is a favored memory of mine because we worked together to get through these little trials and lived through it without injury.  I also learned a few things about my future husband.  First, and most impressive to me was the way he took the lead  and the way he took care of me!. He was a gentleman who always took the harder part.  He took responsibility ultimately for our safety, as I thought he should. His behaviors in a stressful situation were calm and quick. I was pleased to be engaged to such a man.  I was so grateful to see he did not have a short-fused temper, that he was able to take each obstacle in stride and think creatively. His quick thinking led us safely to our journey's end.

    I literally decided on this day, this hour, that this was going to be a great man to be attached to in life.  This little float trip mirrors real life. Our expectations may be “happily ever after” with smooth waters and relaxed sailing, however, life is not always smooth. There are always inconveniences and obstacles to deflect. After 33 years of marriage, I can honestly say Bryce has been the best captain of our little fleet I could have ever hoped for. 

I Feel Your Pain

    One spiritual gift I have been blessed with sometimes feels like a curse. I have an ability to feel sympathy for those in severe circumstances, sometimes to an extreme degree. I dream about them, I lose sleep over their tragedies, and I feel their pains. 

    The first time I noted this was as a young school girl. I read in the paper about a grandpa accidentally running over his toddler grandchild. I dreamt that night that I was at the funeral for this child, who was laid in a large casket with the lower half of her body in a closed jewelry box. I couldn’t imagine what sorrow this grandpa felt. I was sure he didn’t mean to hurt his grandbaby.

    After moving to a new area, our new friends were in a car accident . Because my husband was also their family physician, we got a call that one of their children was not breathing. I felt devastating sorrow and panic. At the time we were traveling to see a Christmas play and were 30 minutes from home. We turned around and headed for the hospital. Within the traveling car, we prayed for our new friend’s. When we reached the hospital, Bryce and I literally ran up to the Emergency Room entrance. My husband ran behind the ER doors and I was left with the other concerned family members in the lobby. Tears were everywhere. I felt so helpless. That night at home, I could not fall asleep. Every time I closed my eyes, the pain of their loss was in my chest. I felt almost as if I had lost one of my children.

    One evening I was watching our local news when I heard a story of a 6-year-old boy who received a fatal blow to the head by his father in the family kitchen. As the details surrounding his abuse emerged, my heart grew troubled with compassion for this child and outrage at his father's use of force. He was severely treated by the one man who was supposed to love and protect him. I imagined what the boy’s brief years on this earth were like: a loveless life filled with unkindness, physical abuse, and chaos. I wept bitterly for a child I had never met. 

     Following this report and between heaving sobs, I imagined this boy’s final moments in detail, filling in the blanks with my overactive imagination. I hoped the “Dad” would be given the death penalty. He must be an absolute monster.  My sorrow had never been quite as vocal as it was this night. This grieving, so real and emotional, would have been embarrassing if someone had come into the room. I decided I needed to gain control of myself before my kids saw me.  I decided to hide in the adjoining bathroom and pray.  I knew the boy was in God’s tender care. He was saved from any harm ever again. I also prayed this man would get the justice he deserved. When I finished, I felt a bit better but still needed som perspective so I returned to my bed and opened my scriptures to a passage I believe was not by accident: 

“And now... I desire that ye should let these things trouble you no more and only let your sins trouble you, with that trouble which shall bring YOU down unto repentance.” Alma 42: 30

    On a very few occasions in my life, when it has been really important, I have received direct answers to my deepest concerns in specific verses of scripture. Surprisingly, this was one of those times and this is what I took from it. 

1.  The only person I can control is myself. 

2. The only one I can repent for is myself. 

3. People will receive their justice according to God whether in this life or the next. Wallowing in their mistakes is useless unless it reminds me of my own and motivates me to repent. 

4. Rather than worrying about what someone else has done, I need to “first cast out the beam out of (my)  own eye.” Luke 6:41

    With this new perspective, I have been able to handle disappointments with more grace. Everyone is on their own journey and no one is perfect, most especially me. Since that day in 2012. I have, been able to apply this scripture multiple times. Before I judge, I need first ask, "Lord, is it I?"