All Prayers are Answered

Note: This is an intensely personal post. If that kind of thing makes you uncomfortable, you may want to skip it.

“Charity is the pure love of Christ” (Moroni 7:47) said Moroni, concluding writer of the Book of Mormon, and son of the ancient American prophet-historian Mormon. This short and simple phrase opens the definition of charity, clarifies and enlightens. Never again can we read in any of the scriptures the word “charity” and visualize solely the giving of goods or money by one who has much to one who has little. That traditional definition is simply too narrow, too limited, to encompass the depth and universality of the love of Christ. Moreover, the word “of” contains within its two letters a duality of meaning. The word “of” allows you to read the phrase both as if it says “Charity is the name of the feeling we develop for Christ when our love for Him becomes pure,” and “Charity is the name of the type of love Christ has for us.” Thus Moroni simultaneously captures the depth and immensity of the love Christ has for us as evidenced by the atoning sacrifice of his own life, and the corresponding gratitude and love we should feel for our Savior. He has done something for us we cannot do for ourselves, and thus has rescued us from the perpetual darkness of death and sin.

It has recently been my privilege to be taught greater understanding about the principle of charity.

Some time after arriving in Ecuador as a representative of Jesus Christ and one of His missionaries, I began to wonder why I wasn’t overwhelmed with love for the Ecuadorian people. I was called by a prophet of the Lord to serve. I was set apart. I was obedient. And I was frustrated because frankly, I didn’t love the people. Looking back, it was as if I expected someone to bonk me on the head with a magic wand and fix me.

I studied the scriptures. I asked Heavenly Father for the spiritual gift of charity. I talked briefly to President Sloan about it. I wondered what was wrong with me. I prayed some more. I know Heavenly Father answers prayers, but He didn’t seem to be answering this one. I grew despondent, and then decided to continue to do the very best I could to serve the missionaries as secretary of the mission. I more or less grew resigned to serving a lesser mission, certain that I was missing a richer experience.

As I was embroiled in this angst, Elder and Hermana Curtis, of Sandy, Utah came to this mission in January of this year. One of their assignments from President Sloan was to provide leadership support to the branches and districts of the mission. The Curtises kindly invited me to travel with them on occasion to the district of Riobamba. Last weekend all of us traveled there to conduct welfare training and to meet with the branch president of the LaJoya branch to offer our assistance.

On Saturday afternoon, Hermana Curtis and I went visiting some of the sisters in the district at the request of the District Relief Society President. Hermana Reynolds was sent with us to help translate, as she speaks both English and Spanish fluently.

The first stop we made was to visit with the Relief Society President of one of the branches, Hermana Bella. She lives in a home much like the ones I described in my Christmas post. That is to say, as near as we could tell, there were two rooms without an adjoining door. One was used for the bedroom and the other for the kitchen/living room. There may have been a refrigerator and stove, but I didn’t see one. There may have been a bathroom, but I didn’t see one. Chickens roamed in and out while we were there.

Hermana Bella has a beautiful 17-year-old daughter with haunting green eyes—very unusual in Ecuador. Her name is Adriana. As we seated ourselves around a round table covered with a plastic tablecloth, I noticed two portraits hanging on the wall. They were old—they reminded me of the portraits I saw in my grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s homes. They appeared to be of Hermana Bella and her daughter. The younger woman also had haunting green eyes. Adriana later told me that the portraits were of her mother and grandmother.

I thought we were visiting Hermana Bella to get referrals to other sisters in her branch that we needed to visit that day. Instead, Hermana Reynolds turned to me and asked me what I had to say to Hermana Bella. I was completely unprepared. I thought Hermana Reynolds was a member of the District Relief Society Presidency and that Hermana Curtis and I were there simply to smile and nod—which is just about what the level of our Spanish allows us to do. It turned out Hermana Reynolds was only there at the request of the District Relief Society President and we were the main attraction.

I took a deep breath and started to listen for the Spirit. I had the sweet experience of feeling the fulfillment of the scripture in Doctrine and Covenants that says, “Therefore, verily I say unto you, lift up your voices unto this people; speak the thoughts that I shall put into your hearts, and you shall not be confounded before men; for it shall be given you in the very hour, yea in the very moment, what ye shall say.” (D&C100:5-6) Not only did the Spirit give me the words to speak in the very moment I needed them, but they came in Spanish. I don’t remember everything I said, but I recall telling Hermana Bella that I was in her home as a representative of President Sloan, the president of the mission. I told her that he loves the people of Riobamba and wants to respond to their needs. Hermana Bella started to cry. We sat quietly waiting until she was ready to share with us her story.

Hermana Bella is a doctor. Most recently she has been teaching. In January, due to an economic downturn in Ecuador, her teaching position was eliminated and she was thrown out of work. Despite the fact that there is a critical need for medical expertise in Ecuador, the public medical system could not afford to hire her and the private system demands that she buy into a clinic in order to practice. Even Hermana Bella’s efforts to find self-employment or to plant a garden had been frustrated. As Hermana Reynolds told me, architects, professors and engineers are driving taxis because there is no work to be found. It was clear that she was in despair and nearly bereft of hope.

Meanwhile, three months ago in the midst of this trial, Adriana had had twin boys. Adriana’s 18-year-old husband enrolled in a military school to try to prepare to make a living for his family, but cannot support them presently. Thus, Hermana Bella is responsible for supporting herself, her son, her daughter and two grandsons.

Our attention turned to Adriana. Before we stopped by, Adriana had called a family member who had promised to provide diapers for the babies, only to be told by the family member that she could not longer keep her promise. Adriana told us she had walked along the street between the telephone cabina and her home asking herself “What am I going to do?” When she arrived home and told her mother that no diapers would be forthcoming, her mother said, “We don’t really need sheets on our bed,” and cut up their sheets so the babies would have diapers.

At about this time, one of the babies woke up and Adriana retrieved him from the sleeping room. I could not take my eyes off of him. He had a shock of black hair and bright blue eyes--nearly unheard of in Ecuador.

We inquired about food in the home. Hermana Curtis asked Adriana if she was nursing the babies and she said yes. I asked if she was getting enough to eat. She did not answer. Both women were crying. We suspected that the answer was there was no food in their home. Hermana Curtis and I simultaneously reached for our purses and pulled out the same amount of money—small amounts by US standards, but enough to buy food for several weeks by Ecuadorian standards. I pressed the money into Hermana Bella’s hand. Through her tears she told us that she had told Heavenly Father about her plight in prayer, and here were two women from the mission in Quito sitting in her home offering assistance. Her daughter sobbed. Hermana Curtis and I cried with them. Hermana Curtis said, “Don’t spend any of that money on diapers. We’ll be back with diapers.”

We sang “I am a Child of God,” embraced, cried on each others’ shoulders, and Hermana Curtis and I promised to return with the diapers, which we did later on in the afternoon.

Throughout the rest of the weekend and into the week, as I thought about Hermana Bella’s situation, my emotions ran the gamut from anger to frustration to gratitude that we were guided by the Spirit to be in the right place at the right time, finally resulting in a meltdown in the mission office on Monday. Even as I sobbed in the enclosed file room in Hermana Curtis's presence, another part of me was asking why I was so emotional. A few days later, the Spirit helped me understand.

When Dan died, I did not complain to Heavenly Father, nor did I ask “Why me?” With the help, I’m certain, of Christ and his atoning sacrifice as well as considerable coaching from the Holy Ghost, I trusted that God knew what was best for Dan and our family. Words fail me when I try to describe what it was like (and is like) to lose Dan. His love and the way he encouraged me allowed me to accomplish things I could not have done on my own. He cherished me and made me feel like I was something special every day. Daily I learned lessons about putting others first, generosity and self-sacrifice from him. Losing Dan was like losing half or more of my heart. Every day thereafter I woke up wondering how I could live another day with the tiny little portion of my heart that was left. I was not conscious of the fact that one of the ways that I survived was by cauterizing what was left of my heart with the resolution that I never wanted to be hurt like that again and therefore would not love like that again. That was a subconscious decision (that didn’t apply, I hasten to add, to the people I already love). And that was the reason that my prayers had not been answered. I was holding back, holding onto what was left of my heart, trying to protect it, trying to save it, instead of putting it on the altar of sacrifice too.

An objective observer would say that Hermana Curtis and I performed an act of charity in Hermana Bella’s humble home. The Lord, “who looketh not on the outward appearance, but . . . on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7) knows that Hermana Bella performed an act of charity far more substantial than ours. Her pure love for Christ and her complete faith in Him led her to petition Him for help in prayer, and we were guided to her home in response to that prayer. Her desperate and unjust circumstances, the plight of her daughter and her grandsons, burst the scabs on my heart and allowed it to bleed freely again. I love Hermana Bella, Adriana, and the twins. Those women are my sisters in the gospel. Where I simply gave money, she gave me back my heart. She was the answer to my prayer.