Everyday Members in Concert with the Three Nephites / Lloyd

everyday members in concert 

with the three nephites

introduction

My first 6 years of life were cast in the 1940’s, a time of great  upheaval worldwide, a time of war and need for miracles.  In my early life I heard many stories regarding the Three Nephites helping members in need, but I haven’t heard such stories at all for many years now. They were similar to tales about “Eliyohu hanovi” (Elijah the Prophet) that I encountered studying Yiddish at the YIVO in Manhattan.  The Three Nephites and Eliyohu hanovi are translated beings (beings who didn’t taste death) who minister to God’s children in times of exigency and need.

Then I heard about Lara Kerr and Marina related below. I’ve thought perhaps the Lord’s people have reached the point where they are sufficiently sensitive to the Spirit’s prompting to bless others in need that the Three Nephites aren’t called upon so much.  For that reason the original title for this blog was “Everyday Members Instead of the Three Nephites.”

But just today a friend quietly shared a very personal and sacred experience that attested to the continuing reality of translated beings administering among us. Perhaps our people have learned that sacred things from the Lord are not to be shared at all without permission or spiritual prompting. Perhaps the Three Nephites and Eliyohu hanovi are as active as ever, especially when circumstances require the heavy lifting. They are now joined by many spiritually attuned men and women of faith who reach out in sacrifice and love.

At any rate as you read this account of the Lord prompting Lara to bless a stranger in her time of great need consider the Lord’s desire that His people be the salt and leavening to all God’s children to make life bearable and give hope in darkening times.  Seems very appropriate to share this account of God, Lara, and Marina at this season of the year — the season of lights.

marina

[A true account taken from Lara’s personal journal without editing except for the change in Marina’s name to honor privacy.]

     Years ago when I was building a house, I made a weekly trek down to a building supply store an hour away because the prices were better. One night as I left the store, I had the distinct impression to go back inside and give fifty dollars to the cashier. I tend to get odd promptings at times, but this one seemed even stranger than usual. Mine was a very familiar face in that store, but I still felt uncomfortable about obeying the prompting.

     First, I was on an extremely tight budget. Fifty dollars would be sorely missed from my budget. Second, I wondered if the young cashier would think I was hitting on her. Third, I didn’t know how I could explain promptings to someone who looked so very tough. Marina had gang tattoos on her arms and on one hand. Her clothing, jewelry, language, and hair suggested a lifestyle far different from my sheltered life. I didn’t want to offend her.

     I drove away from the store, but the prompting kept returning. I argued with the Lord, offering all my objections and fears. Each “but, Lord” was answered with a quiet “Give her the money.” Finally I protested that I had the fifty dollars cash in my wallet, but I didn’t have anything to put it in. I was hesitant to have anyone see me handing her cash. I felt the urge to go into a Staples store and ask for an envelope. Feeling foolish, I did, explaining that I had a bit of an emergency. I returned to Marina’s work and hesitantly approached her, my hands shaking. She smiled, but her face said, “What did I do wrong?” I waited till there were no other customers in her line and then I handed her the envelope.

     “Don’t take this wrong, OK? I don’t know how to explain it to you, but I had the undeniable feeling that I should give this to you.” Her jaw dropped, and she opened the envelope. When she saw the money, her eyes filled and she looked at me with shock—and with obvious relief.  She counted the bills, and then she asked me how I knew.

     Tears streaming, she whispered, “You just saved my life.” By that time, I was crying, too. I said it was hard to explain, but I couldn’t deny the feeling. I told her I was nervous and feared she’d think I was being inappropriate, or that I was crazy.

     “I asked my family. I asked my friends. No one would lend me the money. I didn’t know what I was going to do. Then you walked in, a stranger—well, you’re not really a stranger, but you know what I mean...” She told me thank you, but I kept telling her to thank God, because He let me help her.

     “I’ll pay you back,” she whispered. Just then another customer came up to her checkstand, so I left. She never got the chance to explain why fifty dollars would save her life, but it didn’t really matter. I drove home, choking up every time I thought about the softening of her ordinarily hard and street-wise face as she whispered, “You saved my life.”

     I was in that store every Friday night for months, and I usually saw Marina. From time to time, she’d discreetly hand me two dollars or five dollars; and eventually, she paid it all back. She even sent me a small bouquet of flowers with a florist’s card saying she that hoped I wasn’t offended that she got my name and address from my check. No; I wasn’t offended. I was touched. I kept the little blue vase as a reminder of how much we need to listen to promptings.

     I saw Marina a few years after my house was finished. She was dressed in a soft blouse and her makeup was subdued and pretty. Her hairstyle was flattering and no longer extreme. She ran up to me, beaming, and extended her arms to show me something. Her very dark Hispanic skin bore swirly, cloud-like scars left by the tattoo removal. To me, it was so beautiful. It spoke of humbling; of safety; of change.

     “There’s a doctor here who lasers off gang tattoos for free,” she explained. “He took them all away for me.” She told me she had stopped hanging around with her gang-affiliated friends. She went back to school and became a medical assistant. She was working in a doctor’s office and she was happy.  This chance encounter—this “payback”—was a greater gift to me than the repaying of my dollars. I felt as though I’d been allowed to be a part of a transformation, a rebirth, an act of saving someone who clearly was precious to her Heavenly Father, because He didn’t let up until I listened to His plea to help rescue Marina.

— Lara Kerr  August 2013