The Power of Prayer

The untold story leading up to the Nepali Festival we attended a few weeks ago:

On Fridays, I am generally out at my parents' house working on the accounting for my dad's business.  Knowing that the evening's activities were in Daybreak, the kids and I decided to just kill time in the Sandy/Draper area between work and play.

First we headed to Southtowne Mall to get the needed hats.  That went quickly, so we opted to stop and play in the Dinoland play area.  But when cheeks began to turn red as overheated boys continued to play, I decided we'd better head elsewhere.  We still needed gift bags, so we set off in the general direction of Daybreak with instructions to look for Walmart, Walgreens, or Target on the way. 

Spotting a Target, we also spotted the Jordan River Temple ahead.  Knowing we'd still have plenty of time to kill, we made the quick Target trip, then planned out a quick visit to both the Jordan River and Oquirrh Mountain temples on the way.  A quick check of my nearly-dead cell phone revealed the texted address to the night's destination.  "11567 I..." I caught as I quickly glanced before turning off the phone to save just enough battery for the GPS to get us there.

We stopped first at the Jordan River temple.  I asked the boys to point out things they noticed.  "It's tall."  "The Angel Moroni."  "The colored glass windows."  We sat along the edge of the fountain, and I reminded the boys this was a place to be reverent because this is Jesus' house.  "Oh, is that why I feel him here?" asked Alex, just recently returned from his tour as the-kid-who-pushed-the-emergency-stop-button-on-the-mall-escalator.  What a perfect reminder that he isn't rotten.  He's just Alex, and sometimes my sweet boy happens to push or pull things that shouldn't be pushed or pulled.

The next stop was the Oquirrh Mountain.  No colored glass.  Same angel.  We discussed the similarities and differences, and once again visited the front fountain.  After a family vote, it was decided that the Oquirrh Mountain temple has the superior fountain.  Not sure how this applies in the grand scheme of things, but it was information duly noted before we headed back to the car. 

We quickly placed the correct hat in each chosen gift bag, and I powered up my phone to GPS our way to the Festival.  But as soon as it powered up, it immediately shut down.  I calmly explained to the rambunctious boys that it was going to be very tricky for me to find the house for the party, because I could only remember part of the address.  11567 I....  With instructions to be very quiet and keep a look out for Grandma's car, Grandpa's truck, Aunt Michelle's car, or Daddy's truck, we headed out on our search.  Unfamiliar with the complexities of the area, I decided to aim for about 11500 South and then drive carefully on an East to West path looking for any street that started with an I.  My hope was that when I saw the street name, I'd recognize it.  Soon after beginning this approach, I realized it would  not be enough.

"Adam," I said.  "Could you please say a prayer?  I think we are going to need help to find this house."  He was hesitant.  "I've never said that kind of a prayer before.  Could you help me?"  Worried that my own lack of faith (and general reliance on that which can be proved) might get in the way, I was really counting on his faith to get us through.  "I'm driving," I explained.  "I would really like it if you could say this prayer for us." 

He said a short, sweet prayer, asking that we'd be able to find the house.  I became worried that all I'd done was double the stakes.  Now we wouldn't find the house AND I'd have shattered my son's faith in prayer.  So I said my own silent prayer.  "Please let me have the faith to see this through." 

After every passed non-"I" street, I fought the urge to go knock on the door of a stranger to use a phone.  The boys were strangely quiet and the car for once still enough to invite the spirit.  I fought back the pull toward "proven" methods and relied on my children's faith.  For fifteen minutes we canvassed the general 11500 S area.  We arrived at the western edge of the Daybreak community without having found the street, but we'd emerged around 11600 south.  Wanting to give up, I felt prompted to head the additional block north and begin traveling east again.

In two streets, we found the street beginning with "I," and as I'd hoped, I recognized it immediately.  Sure enough, the house marked 11567 had cars in front of it, suggesting we'd arrived at the right place.  The prayer story, recounted once to the hosts, once to Grandma, and once to Daddy was quickly strengthened as everyone agreed that it was only because of Adam's prayer that we arrived at the right place.

Chances are, Adam received a small testimony of prayer that night.

Either way, I gained a testimony of faith.