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