When we arrived, we found a tiny little chapel about the size of a Relief Society room. The burlap - covered side walls were slanted wide at the bottom and narrowing near the ceiling like the upside-down hull of a ship. A great white wall stood majestically at the apex behind the pulpit. It was a fast and testimony meeting and after the Bishop recognized us, or at least our tags, he invited us to offer our testimonies.
As we stood together at the pulpit and looked out at the congregation, the sweetness amongst the diversity took my breath away…A group of Pompeian saints dressed in colorful tribal robes sat in the back with earphones for translation, Spanish speaking members sat scattered across the congregation- the older ones also using head phones, a host of humble folk who looked like the cast of the Waltons TV show, but glowing with the spirit were interspersed. Five investigating friends sat sandwiched between the sisters who had found them -the challenges of life etched upon their faces, and a small army of transplants mixed about who could have been from our ward in Utah, but who have relocated here because they felt a pull to build Zion in this remote garden plot.
I don’t know what the group of humble saints looked like who were taught by the prophet Alma after having been cast out of the synagogues because of their poverty, but I imagine it might have looked like those before us that morning. The spirit was one of the strongest we have ever felt in a church building. It had nothing to do with us and everything to do with their love and care and genuine concern they had for one another!
It was there as some of the most unpolished people you can imagine shared their love for the Savior and for one another, including a grateful investigating friend; a self -described “biker girl,” covered in tattoos whose house, and all her earthly possessions, had burned to the ground weeks before.
She reverently came to the front of the chapel with all the charred remains of her life inside a metal box, which she had placed in large paper grocery bag that crinkled loudly as she carried it to the stand. As she gingerly unpacked it for all to see, she tearfully expressed gratitude for every person in that little chapel.
Immediately after the fire, she had gone from church to church in search of help and was turned away, asked to leave, or told they didn’t have time or resources to help her. At each church, she told herself, “That’s ok, God wasn’t there anyway. But when them two sisters came and found me” she said, pointing at our missionaries, “they brought God with them and promised they would return with an army of helpers.”
The next day the entire ward (men, women and children) showed up to help a woman they didn’t even know to pick through the charred remains of her homestead and recover a few precious items. Children found and polished little crystals from a chandelier and few pieces of jewelry which she held up one at a time, men brought bobcats and shovels to push the huge pile of wet ash and clear the land again, others provided sandwiches, homemade brownies and water to the workers, others brought clothing and supplies for basic living and somehow- they raised enough cash to help her rebuild.
It was a miracle, but not an unusual one. Church members have always had a mind-set of service and that service seemed to have bonded her to them as much as it did them to her!
They were no respecters of persons in this little group. All were valued and beloved; a Hodge- podge group of saints whose first priority was loving God and loving each other no matter how different.
Near the conclusion of the meeting, a tiny little boy with glowing yellow hair parted down the middle, the long sides swooping over each ear, stood radiantly at the pulpit. His little face barely reached the mic., but with the confidence of a seasoned adult, he bore witness that “no matter what hard thing happens in our lives, Jesus loves us and will help us through!
He introduced himself as Jonny Spender Taylor and held up little strips of torn paper on which he’d written some of the things, he’d heard others say during the meeting. He promised us that they were the words the Savior would have said to us if He were here and, in every way, I felt He was! It was as sacred an experience as I’ve had in any temple, and I will remember it forever! A piece of my heart remains in Anderson, Missouri!
Last night we had the privilege to spend a couple of hours with 150 youth of the Springfield South Stake. Sandwiched in between dinner and a dance, they had asked us to do a fireside for them. We were told by 3 different adult leaders that the youth leaders who planned it had made a short list of potential people they might like to ask. Their qualifiers were this: Can’t be too old, can’t be too young and can’t be arrogant. (Interesting parameters) Some of the others on the list were the coach of the Kansas City Royals, and the picher for the Kansas City Chiefs. Given how new we were, we marveled we had even been considered, even though we recognized we were probably the back up plan.
But according to the youth, the reason they thought of us, was because of the Sunday morning session of Stake conference back in August; the one I complained about being so unpredictable when we were asked by Elder Yaggi, as we left Saturday night session, to stand and teach at the pulpit together the next morning. And we did! Though we stressed the rest of the night how to turn the individual talks we had prepared into a duo and who’s to use. We can now see, that in addition to whatever that exercise was about for us, it hit a chord with stake members and the youth in particular.
So last night, we did it together again, volleying back and forth, interacting with the youth and inviting a revelatory discussion. We felt to put away our notes, and simply connected eye to eye, so not even a piece of paper would be between us. Their insights were so meaningful and their gratitude so great, I left a piece of my heart with them too!
