Finding my Mother

 Preface: Mike and I were serving as Service Missionaries in Houston, Tx. At first we were called as teachers, me as EnglishConnect 2 and Mike as a Computer teacher...but within a couple of months we were called as Directors of the center. The Center was called El Centro at first, but as ICE became a militant body, to capture immigrants or anyone looking or sounding like them and deporting them, the Area Presidency had us change our name to The Community Resource Center. We were housed in an inner-city LDS meetinghouse. We had 17 English classes a week, taking place on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. I wrote and taught the curriculum for a US Citizenship class, then President Trump said it was too easy, so the Test was made longer and harder, so I wrote and taught a curriculum for that test. I also designed, a library of English reading books for those students to use. We had wall to wall books donated for that library. We were released by President Nelson November of 2025, after serving 2 years, but the stake presidency asked if we would serve to May. Serving by teaching and directing, also meant feeding everyone dinner at first, then we went to once or twice a month, when I trained them, and every day for the missionaries.

They called a couple working as EnglishConnect teachers to take our  place, in April, but had not released us, since their calling had not gone through the red tape from Salt Lake City. Then, Brian called me and said mom would die shortly and she was streaming several stories together and didn't make sense when she talked. Linda called me the next day, afraid I would not make it in time for her death.

We immediately trained our successors and made a flight to leave, telling the stake presidency. Then my surgical procedure for the next week was canceled, so we moved our flight a week sooner. We had to schedule someone to take my choir to practice, and send all the information to our successors. We showed up to our last time at the Center and introduced the new couple to everyone, so they would know to give the rolls and questions to them. I had gifts for all the teachers, missionaries, and students. Some of my former students were in tears. I loved them all. Brother Haines' wife painted a watercolor of a lighthouse and framed it...for me because she said we were an example of sharing Christ's light. The staff had signed cards, took pictures with us, and the Goehrings brought a cake.

Ministering to my mother:

The first day spent with my mother was a shock. This wasn't my mother. She wasn't making any sense. She would repeat stories over and over, but would never finish them before she started another story, (which she wouldn't finish before she started several others.) We spent an hour of her pushing the chair button moving her chair up and down. When it moved her to a stand, it quit moving and she would say it was broken...to which we would say it was not...then she would push the down button and the up and down would start again. Whenever she wouldn't make sense or we didn't understand her and we would attempt to clarify or tell her what she said was not correct, she would angrily say "You're not listening....Listen to me." I left that night crying. She wasn't listening to US! 

Another thing that hurt my feelings was that she seemed to not want me to help her. Everything I tried to do, she didn't want me to do. "Move this closer". I did. "No, it has to be closer." So I moved the tray table to allow the walker to be closer. "No, don't move the table". The Kellee moved the table and she let her. One time, I wanted to put her eye drops in her eyes, and she wouldn't let me because only Brian and Linda do it right. Another time I was right in front of her and she called a lady from across the room to  put her barrette in her hair. I was wondering why I had even come. I played Bednar's conference talk and mom slept through the whole thing. After it was over, she cried, "because she slept through it, she considered herself as an idler, not fit to be in the Kingdom of God.

The 2nd say spent with my mother was spent much the same. The same story lines. The hour up and down in the chair. She wanted her hair washed. Everything I tried to do was wrong, or she didn't want my help. I managed to wash her hair for her, but after drying her hair, I was combing it and however I tried to put the barrette in her hair it was never how she wanted it. I spent so many times trying to follow her directions, but it was always wrong. I spent so long trying to do it, I couldn't take it anymore and asked Mike to do it. I went in the other room and cried, while Mike patiently spent 10 minutes trying to please her with that barrette before he did it to her liking. On the plus side, mom did take a nap (even though every 5 min. she would wake up to see if I was still there, and ask how many minutes she had left to nap. (She only allows herself a 30 min. nap.) I read her Brad Wilcox's article from the April 2026 Liahona. She stayed awake.

When Sunday came, I was so sorrowful for having to deal with mother. I prayed and prayed to know what to do. One of the speakers in Church talked about several miracles in the scriptures. When she mentioned the miracles of the Jaredites being able to keep their own language through divine assistance due to their prayers. I thought about my prayer being about the same thing. Mom and I were speaking different languages. 

My husband and I speak different languages. He sees and says things completely opposite of what I do. Even when we might be saying the same thing, the way he says it means the opposite of what I would say. For example: I always like to get to church early--way early. He once told the Sunday School class that being on time for me is being late. I would have said that to be on time for me is to get there early. Another example: He was changing a light bulb and wanted me to turn on the switch to make sure it worked. He asked me to turn on the 2nd switch. I was standing by a group of 4 light switches in a row on one plate. I count from left to right, and lifted the 2nd switch. I did. Nothing happened. After some confusion, it became clear that to him the 2nd switch was actually the 3rd switch on the plate, because he was counting from left to right. Another example: I asked him to get the keys that were inside my purse in the zippered compartment. He unzipped the outside of the purse because (he said the inside of the purse is the side of the purse closest to his body. To me. IT IS CRAZY. But because he thinks differently than me, we even interpret scriptures differently.

I have worked with those who speak a foreign language. For a few years, I have been trying to learn their language. We understand each other when the spirit intervenes, and we see each others' needs, we understand the requests.

Now, I have a mother, whose language is kooky. She is rambling things in MY language that don't make a lick of sense. She is frustrated that I don't understand her. I am frustrated that she doesn't understand me. How, I prayed, could we understand each other?

Another point made in the same talk was that before the miracle of the parting of the Read Sea, there was a storm--a strong East wind all that night, and made the sea dry land, and the waters were divided. and the waters were a wall unto them on their right hand and on their left. They wanted a miracle instantly, but what they first got was a wind so strong, that it would move and sea. After that came the miracle. 

I was reading the scriptures on Sunday, I read 'be patient.' Since I didn't write down the scripture, I have searched, but it doesn't matter. What does matter, was that as I read the scripture, I felt that if I was patient with my mother, we would come to understand each other. Mother took a 30 min. nap again, and then asked to watch the Bednar talk again. She was awake for the entire thing. It was a good day.

The next day was spent sorting through genealogy. Not perfect day, but better. Mom drank 2 cups of water in my presence. Brian and Kelly came by. (We went to see The Prince of Egypt the musical with Linda's family. I loved it.)

Tuesday, mom started her up and down in the chair. I was patient and let her do it. She told me that she got her feelings hurt when no one would listen to her. Before she went more than 20 mins. doing that, I pulled in another box of genealogy. I sorted through the box with her in the chair. A wonderful thing happened. I found cards and read them to mom, that were telling her and dad what good parents they were. Another thing I found was a summary my father had written of his miracles. I didn't know all that about him. Some of it, mom had forgotten, too. I felt I knew my father better than I ever have, after reading those stories about him.

Never Hesitate to Bear Witness, Through Solemn Testimony

I go to breathing therapy on Mondays and Fridays. On Fridays there is a tall, thin lady, with her long, straight gray hair up in a bun. I don't know her name; I didn't need to...but one day we were peddling on our stationary bikes next to each other and I overheard her talking to her therapist about her fear for cataract surgery. When her therapist left, I told her I had had cataract surgery, and it doesn't hurt. She then went on about how she had found out she needed it at the same time she was diagnosed with lung cancer, so she postponed the eye surgery because she didn't want them at the same time.

I asked her if smoking had caused the cancer, and she said, "Yes."

Awkward silence. Then she told me her story. She had heard all the statistics about smoking causing cancer, and just ignored them. She had heard all the statistics about it being addictive, and she ignored them. Then, when she was 30 she realized how much she was addicted. She wanted to quit, and she couldn't. She knelt down and for the first time prayed and wept. "I want to quit. If there is a God, will you please help me to quit?" 

The next morning she woke up and didn't need, or even desire to smoke. She made it through the whole day and didn't need to smoke. Then, after dinner, she automatically picked up a cigarette, because that was what she always did after dinner. Her husband, said, "I thought you were going to quit." "Well, I was, but I'm bored." So she smoked.

And she smoked addictively until she was 70, when she was diagnosed with lung cancer. She said she has quit smoking now. All those years she had been afraid to pray about quitting smoking, because she had asked God for help, and had received it, then she had failed. Now, she knew she needed to quit and didn't know where to go. She knelt and asked for forgiveness...and once again pleaded for help, not only to quit, but to know where she should go. She had the thought "Go to MD Anderson. Caner is all they do." So she got up from her knees, got in the car, and drove straight to MD Anderson. She was greeted by a lady, who, when she heard she had cancer, took her hand and asked if she could pray for her. It was then, she knew God had answered her prayer. She was living with the consequence of her choice she'd made to continue smoking, but she knew that God knew her, and had given her a 2nd chance. She knew He would be with her during the surgery.

I turned to her and bore testimony about God listening and answering prayers. Part of her story reminded me of my covenant to go off sugar, so I shared my experience with his helping me go off sugar--that was my addictive substance. As weeks went on, we continued to share our testimonies of faith in God and Christ.

I entered today, Monday. She came the hour before me on Mondays. I knew it was her last day because she has cataract surgery tomorrow. I saw her and waved at her before I went to the restroom. When I came out she was gone. I looked everywhere. I checked the parking lot. I was so sad, because I wanted to tell her goodbye and how much I loved her. I sat down to read before my session started, then I felt a tap, tap on my shoulder. I looked up and saw her.

"I couldn't leave until I told you goodbye," she said.

I told her the same, and assured her that the surgery would go well. 

"I want you to know how much you have changed me for good. I want you to know how much I love you," she said.

"I love you, too." I returned, and we just hugged each other with teary eyes.

I have since thought of all the people who are struggling with addictions. I thought of social media, video gaming, smoking, drugs, overeating, sugar, vaping, gossiping, pornography, more...and how she had first tried to quit, and with God's help she could have, but when she failed, she was too afraid to ask for help again, so she went on without the help she needed, AND COULD HAVE HAD, if she had just realized God does not give up on people.

Because of Christ's atonement for us, we all have 2nd, 3rd, and more chances. He never gives up on us, even when we fail and fall short. None of us are perfect, but God's plan included a Savior for us...and in Isaiah 9:12 and 17. 'For all this his anger is not turned away, but his hand is stretched out still."

What else did I learn from this experience? My patriarchal blessing tells me I will have many friends in and out of the Church, and to "Never hesitate to bear witness, through solemn testimony to your friends of the truths of the Gospel." I may never see her again, but I made a difference in her life (and she in mine) because I shared my testimony with her. 

I Was Blind, but Now I See.

PROLOGUE:

My husband often tells me I have a fault, that I don't know how to say, "No." Example: I'm asked to play the piano for many people and I always say, "Yes." I say 'yes' because I feel that if I ever say 'no' that I am burying the talent God has given me. I have a service missionary that is a vocal music major at BYU and I asked him to sing at the graduation of the English 2 class he teaches. Of course he said, 'yes' BUT he chose the song. He chose Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me that he had previously sung for a BYU recital with a professional pianist. He asked a sister missionary to accompany him, but she said she couldn't play it, so he asked me.

"Oh, it's easy. You can play it," he said...so I agreed.

Oh, my goodness. The accompaniment was mimicking the rolling and crash of the waves all the way through. The right hand was playing s series of rolling triplets all while the bottom hand was playing a series of eighth notes, punctuated with octave crashes up and down the keyboard and accented notes that urged intensity. Then it breaks out in total 16th notes at one part. It was so beautiful that when I actually played it well, I could feel the wave action that accompanied the lyrics and I cried, but before I got there, I was near tears because it was sooooo difficult. 

He sung it for both his classes, in Spanish. I was so glad when we were done. A month later, one of our students was being baptized, and she wanted him to sing it in English. He asked me again. I said yes... again. It took a bit less practice because I had played it before, but I was so glad it was over. I was ready to throw it away...and I think I did.

But, once again months later, a lady in his home ward was getting baptized and he was asked  to sing. He thought he would choose another song, but last minute said he felt he should sing Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me. One day to practice and I couldn't find the music. I searched for an hour and never found it. Luckily, I had downloaded it from his text, so I copied it again. We couldn't practice until right before the baptism, so we both headed to the church 15 minutes early. 

THE BAPTISM:

I walked into the stake center and it was dark inside. I hurried past a mass of unknown people, including a crippled black lady who greeted me, and hurried into the room to turn on the lights. They didn't turn on. "Why won't the lights turn on?" I asked.

"The power is is out in the whole building," the crowd of missionaries, standing around a dark table of goodies, answered in the baptismal room.

The baptismal room had every curtain open, but it wasn't very light in the room because it was cloudy outside. It turned out there had been a tornado early that morning, and many members' homes in that area, as well as the stake center were without power.

After a quick run through of our song in another room with windows, I sat down and waited for the baptism to start. There were several African-American ladies sitting up front. I saw one of the sister missionaries in white, leading the same 'black' lady who had greeted me. She had a cane, but she was being led by the missionaries. SHE WAS BLIND!

They paused in the hall, where she wept, because she was afraid. There would be steps she couldn't see or navigate with a cane. There would be water she would be in and she couldn't see and hadn't ever learned to swim.  She thought she would drown. The sisters calmed her, wiped her tears, her hands. "We will be your eyes. We will carry you," they said.

The opening hymn was not typical for a baptism--Rock of Ages. (It was common for nonmembers; I didn't even know it was in our hymnbook.) There were no hymnbooks, but I don't know if I would have been able to see the words if we didn't see it on our backlit phones. But the blind lady was belting out the words, beaming with joy. What were those words?

1.

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in thee;

Let the water and the blood,

From thy wounded side which flowed,

Be of sin the double cure,

Save from wrath and make me pure.

2.

Not the labors of my hands

Can fill all thy law’s demands;

Could my zeal no respite know,

Could my tears forever flow,

All for sin could not atone;

Thou must save, and thou alone.

3. 

While I draw this fleeting breath,

When mine eyes shall close in death,

When I rise to worlds unknown

And behold thee on thy throne,

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in thee.

The Baptism talk was next. The lady giving the talk couldn't see her handwritten talk very well because of the darkness, so the talk included her heartfelt testimony, adding to the words she could see.

Next, was our musical number. Elder LeCheminant opened by by talking to her personally, that this hymn compares us navigating the storms or trials that come into our life, and that we can fear not, because God is at the helm. The piano was wonderful. Usually I get a loud, unresponsive, clanging piano, but the soft pedal worked. I could go from loud, crashing, to soft rolling waves. It was incredible. I particularly liked these verses.

1.

Jesus, Savior, pilot me

Over life’s tempestuous sea;

Unknown waves before me roll,

Hiding rock and treach’rous shoal.

Chart and compass came from thee;

Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

3.    When at last I near the shore,

       And the fearful breakers roar

       ’Twixt me and the peaceful rest,

        Then, while leaning on thy breast,

        May I hear thee say to me,

        “Fear not; I will pilot thee.”

When I heard Elder LeCheminant sing, "Fear not; I will pilot thee." I recalled her crying in the hall, saying she was afraid, and I knew Elder LeCheminant was supposed to sing this hymn.

Next was the testimony of the sister being baptized. This was the sweetest moment of the baptism. She had to be pulled up and held up by the sisters and bishop. She told of her faith, her desire to be with God, and how no one in her entire life had accepted her--and now she felt accepted and loved of the Lord and the members of the ward. At one point she was so over come by emotion she couldn't breathe. I literally thought she was going to die. She was choking as she tried to breathe. The sweet sisters, who had been holding her up were calming her and telling her to breathe, and wiping spit that had been exiting her mouth as she choked. The elders ran to get water from the bathrooms because the water fountains didn't work. People were fanning her. She recovered. At the end, she asked for a "Hallelujah, Jesus!" and she got it.

Next was her baptism. Again, she was afraid. The bishop entered the water first and waited for her, while the sisters led her on either side to the font, where the sister dressed in white was at her side to help and direct her into the water as the bishop carried her down each step. She squealed about how cold the water was...and it was...as the water heater didn't work without the electricity. As I saw them carrying her, I couldn't help but think how we all do what we can and Heavenly Father does the rest...but sometimes he does it through other people, like the bishop and the sister missionary. Again, tears ran down my face.

Unfortunately, she had to go under twice. She had faith that the sister would not let her go, but help her back up. Again, I thought of the 2nd chances we all get when we are not perfect. Those 2nd, third, and many more chances come because of Christ's atonement. Again, tears were running down my face.

After the baptismal ordinance, while the sisters dried, held her up, and dressed her, we listened to a set of missionaries give the 1st discussion. When the sisters came back, another set of missionaries gave the talk on the Holy Ghost and then she was confirmed. When they pronounced for her to receive the Holy Ghost, I knew she felt it because she again was overcome with such emotion that she couldn't breathe. When the bishop, mission president, and ward mission leader surrounded her, the mission president looked over all the elders there and called none of them up, except for Elder LeCheminant...a service missionary who was from her ward.

The closing hymn was The Lord is My Light. How ironic, that we were all in the dark and she couldn't even see, and here we were singing about light, then I read the lyrics in the 2nd verse as I sang: 

The Lord is my light; tho clouds may arise,

Faith, stronger than sight, looks up thru the skies

Where Jesus forever in glory doth reign.

Then how can I ever in darkness remain?

and the 4th verse:

4.

The Lord is my light, my all and in all.

There is in his sight no darkness at all.

He is my Redeemer, my Savior, and King.

With Saints and with angels his praises I’ll sing.

The Lord is my light;

He is my joy and my song.

By day and by night

He leads, he leads me along.

The baptized lady was singing every word. She knew the words by heart. Needless to say, I was crying again.  I would have missed this sacred experience if I had not said 'yes' to accompanying Elder LeCheminant! It was one of the most spiritual experiences of my life! And I truly believe the building was meant to be dark for the rest of us...just to let us know what she had been going through.

Where My Shepherds Are, There am I Also

 Sister Jones is an assistant Matron in our temple. She had a dream the other night where she saw the words, "Where my shepherds are, there am I also," and then it was gone. She didn't know what it meant, but she pondered about those words as she went on her vacation to Vegas and Utah to visit family.

Her vacation ended in Missouri...in prison. She sat in a line of chairs with her husband, waiting to be called to visit her brother. Every so often, she would hear a loud buzz, then a door would click open and a prisoner would come out, look around to see who had come to visit them, till he saw a brother, sister, parent, spouse, or church visitor he knew, then the joy on his face would be so palpable, anyone seeing it could feel it, too. Then they would run to each other and hug. 

As sister Jones watched this happen over and over, waiting for her turn to hug her brother, she thought of the spirits in spirit prison, and the joy they feel when they are set free. The joy they feel when their work is done.

Then she realized, "I have seen that joy before. Where have I seen it?"

She knew. She sees it whenever temple workers meet each other or someone they haven't seen a long time in the temple...and hug. And the words, "Where my shepherds are, there am I also, came back to her mind." We are shepherds when we do the work to save others. 

There is a God

 Our Sunday School topic was on Trials and Tribulation. The teacher opened the class by asking, "Why do some people not believe there is a God? Among the answers was the question: "Why do bad things happen to good people if there is a God?"

While we discussed the answers to that question, I recalled the time I was in the hospital for 5+ weeks and nothing was working, so I was sent to a nursing home to die. Everyone thought I would die. My family came to visit because I was going to die.

I even believed I would die, but BECAUSE I BELIEVED IN GOD, I DID NOT FEAR DEATH. In fact, I believed my life to be in His hands, and regardless of what happened, it would be all right. That belief, that hope, brought me peace and calm. The Spirit of God was with me.

I cannot even imagine what life's trials would be like if I did not have a belief and hope that there is indeed a loving God, and that He is aware of me and all I endure (regardless of tribulation), that He loves me unconditionally, and that I will be with Him again.

Because I have that hope and belief, I act on that belief. That is why I pray to God...and interestingly enough, those answers, feelings and directions have been manifested in miraculous ways in my life. So yes, the evidence comes AFTER a trial of your faith. Don't ever give up. There is a God. Have hope and faith to believe in Him.

When Angels Play

 I've already written in my autobiography about the time I prayed for an angel's voice for my solo, and after it was over, the bishop came to me in awe of my singing voice. "I knew you sang, but I didn't know you sang that well. It was the voice of an angel, " he said.

So, here I am at 70 years, and I play the organ in church, usually with slight mistakes (mostly pedals) and usually only I know, but it bothers me anyway. Because I am also the music chairman, I accompany many people on the piano, but the pieces are usually fairly easy. Occasionally it might sound perfect, but every once in awhile, I skip a note or two. One time I made it all the way through perfectly and on the last note, I played an obvious wrong chord. Well that broke the spirit real fast.

Three weeks before the temple-worker fireside, I received an unknown text telling me, she got my name as a pianist to accompany a soloist at the temple-worker fireside. She was the one who was supposed to be the accompanist, and now she couldn't. She had to leave the next day and asked if she could come and bring me the music. Well, I was going out of town for 2 weeks, so no time to rehearse...but she assured me that the soloist was a professional singer and the accompaniment was easy. Well, she didn't play the accompaniment, but the first page was simple, and what she played was simple, so I said, 'yes', and the soloist agreed we could get together when I came back from my vacation.

After coming back, I went to my temple shift on Wednesday and a worried temple matron came to me to ask how the piece was coming. I could see her anxious eyes when I told her we hadn't practiced, yet. (I had gotten back the Monday night before the Sunday fireside, and as the soloist and I went over my schedule and her schedule, there was no night we were both free before Sunday unless she drove an hour to the Fallbrook building during our English lessons on Thursday.) That didn't seem to calm the matron's troubled demeanor as she said they had asked this other lady and she now wasn't doing it, but I told her we were going to practice the next day.

So Thursday it was. The soloist drove all the way down to inner North Houston from New Caney. I did my best, which I must say was not perfect, but it was pretty OK. See, the first 2 pages were very easy, the next two were a little harder, then boom, the hard, speedy stuff hit. It was going from 16th notes to 8th notes, back and forth with a syncopated left hand as it rose in volume to her climax, and back down to soft again. 

The piece was called, Ancestor's Plea. It was a very moving piece (in more ways than one) with a person pleading from the Spirit World for us to do the work for them. I practiced and practiced, but never could make it perfect. The 9-page piece also needed Mike to shift it and pull the top sheet off as I played. 

We have over 1,300 temple workers. I knew they all wouldn't be there, but I knew about 700+ would be there. Enough to frighten an average accompanist, so that Sunday morning I prayed that I would play well at church, and specifically asked that angels would take my fingers to help them move so fast over the keys when I played for the fireside. Well, church came and went, and horror of horrors, I was playing the song all the way through because it was a new song, and the audience started singing 2 lines through, without the chorister. I kept playing and the chorister didn't know what to do, so halfway through, she just led and they found they were two stanzas behind, and quit singing until we started the 2nd verse. Couldn't have been worse. I kept thinking of how I had prayed for help on my temple piece and specifically asked for angels to play for me. Would it be a disaster, too?

We got there 45 min. early and the singer luckily did a mic check (I say luckily, because they had a separate mic for her and it had no batteries.) We decided that she would sing from the podium mic. and did a short few measures. (She didn't want to give the song away ahead, because at that time half the congregation was already in place. 

Because I had NEVER played it perfectly, even though I had gone over the rough places, and because we hadn't gone over the entire song, I was kind of worried...until the opening prayer was said. The person who gave the prayer, asked that angels would accompany the music. When I heard that in the prayer, I felt the spirit warm my heart. I knew they would be with me as I played.

When it was time to play the piece, I started, and the soloist sang. I made it through 7 and a half pages pretty well, then when the speed picked up, I noticed she was way ahead on the phrase. Did she miss the rhythm? Did she skip 2 measures? I somehow played that chord she was on, then she went to the next line and I don't know what happened, but it was the same thing. How could she be a whole two measures ahead? I don't know what I did, but I skipped ahead to the chord she was on and we finished the last page together.  

I was devastated. I felt I had let her down. It was the worst I had ever done. The notes didn't sound bad to me, but I had no idea what I played to catch up to where she was, because it for sure wasn't the notes written in the music; I was just hearing where she was in the music and making sure I made it there.

It was the perfect song to sing before the temple matron spoke. She told of her experience with an ancestor coming to her aunt to get his work done...and how they looked and looked and couldn't find the person, until a divine 'coincidence' (call) came from a living person who had never called them before, and knew that the person they were looking for was called by a nickname, and the person not only told them the man's real name, but gave permission to do the work. Then she told of doing the work a week before it was planned, and called the aunt to tell her, but she already knew (because the man had come to her prior to the call, thanking her for having him baptized.) Then the matron read a statement from President Nelson, who said we should not say people are dead when they die, because they are very much alive. The Spirit was strong...so strong, I hoped no one would remember the horrible mistakes I had made.

After the meeting was over, I was a bit embarrassed to be talked to, because of what happened, but Mike turned to me and said that was the best he had ever heard me play, that 'it was flawless'. Huh? Then, one after another came up to me and said similar things. One lady said, 'it was as if you and she were one.' 'Your playing was totally in sync.' 'Her music she sang came out of the piano the way you were playing, you were so together.' 'You played that perfectly.' 'You had such a delicate, light touch, it brought the Spirit out as she sang.' 

Now I was totally embarrassed, because these were music people talking to me. How could they not know?  They were not hearing how I lost track of 2 entire stanzas of music. Had they heard someone else playing in my place? It was in the back of my mind...that I had asked for angels to play, and the temple matron had asked for that, too. How could I take the credit for what angels had done? When I mentioned what had happened to Mike (without telling him what I was thinking) he said, maybe there were angels playing on those quick stanzas. And, my sneaky suspicion was confirmed. The congregation had not heard me or my blunders, but they had heard the angels playing. And I knew it.

When Heavenly Father Trusts You to Give to Others

 

You will never believe what happened to me yesterday! I was in line at Walmart and a man was in front of me. I looked at him and he was dressed like he was poor. He only had 4 bananas and a package of toilet paper, but he didn’t have enough money. He was $1.78 short. He took out his wallet, but he didn’t have the money. He didn’t know what to do, because even if he put away the bananas, there wasn’t enough money for the toilet paper. 

I told the store clerk I would pay the $1.78 for that man. He accepted, and thanked me. As I stepped up to the clerk, the man behind me in line, came up and handed me a hundred-dollar bill. “This is for you,” he said.

“Oh, no, I can’t take your money,” I responded.

“I fix air conditioners and just got paid $5,000.00. I saw what you did. The spirit told me that if I gave you this hundred dollars, you were the kind of person who would pass it on if you don’t need it. You can use it for yourself, or you can give it away…but it is yours to do what you want. Take it.” 

I did take it. It is sitting in my wallet. I have been praying to have eyes to see and ears to hear who needs money. I felt so happy that Heavenly Father would tell that man that he could give me money and trust me to give it to someone who needs it more than I do.