We would love to hear from you if you have stories of times when members of the Church who didn’t know you, helped you when you were far from home. You can send your stories to pr***********@ho*****.com to be part of our “No More Strangers” series.
The following story was contributed by Meridian reader Jean Callister.
A memory of miraculous proportions pops up every now and then when I think of a trip to the mid-west a few decades ago. Before boarding a sight-seeing boat on the Mississippi River, we had shopped at an art store and purchased a picture of the river with some boats. It was just a pencil sketch, but quite nicely done with an inexpensive cardboard frame. When the boat arrived at a spot about 25 miles away from the town, I decided to leave my package onboard and pick it up on the return trip. I just didn’t want to be encumbered with the package while tramping around the grounds of the historical museum that was our destination. We were instructed by the boat captain that he would sound the whistle on the boat two short and one long, which signaled that we had five minutes to get ourselves aboard.
We enjoyed the grounds and building very much. We were there a couple hours at least. There was quite a high levee separating the grounds from the boat dock and we could no longer see the boat from where we stood near the building. Eventually, we heard two short sounds from the whistle but no long sound. Nevertheless, we made our way up the levee and forward to the dock. To our amazement, the boat had already left, and was chugging its way back to town. What? We missed the boat? How could that be? Clearly, we expected to be earlier than required. Obviously, everyone else must have heard the entire signal because we were the only ones left standing on the banks of the river. Forlornly.
It was now well after 5 pm and beginning to get dark. The building had been closed and locked; the parking lot was empty, except for a single car at the far end. There was a forest of trees surrounding the parking lot from which we noticed a couple and a tot sauntering towards us. We asked them where we might find a telephone so we could call a taxi to take us back to town. They shook their heads. I don’t think there is a phone anywhere, they said. They proceeded to their tiny Volkswagen where they strapped their toddler into the rear baby seat. We wondered what we were going to do, being stranded in the growing darkness without a phone, a map, or a place to sit down, even.
The couple echoed our concern and offered to drive us back to our hotel, even though it was the opposite direction from their destination. We demurred and said we would be fine, somehow. No, they insisted. It just isn’t safe to stay here. Gratefully relieved, we crawled into the back seat of the already crowded car. I sat on my husband’s lap with my knees jammed into the back side of the front passenger seat. (Not comfortable for anyone, but safe enough.)
Amazingly, as we drove along, we discovered they were members of the Church too, and that opened many opportunities for discussion. Helping an elderly couple in a pickle, on a moment’s notice, seemed a routine part of this sweet and generous couple’s daily activity. We couldn’t help being awed at the timing of this situation and the tremendous service it provided. We surely felt the Lord’s protective hand in our destiny that day.
The next morning, we returned to the store where we had purchased the picture. Luckily, the boat captain had noticed the wrapping with the address of the merchant and had dropped it off. After hearing our story, the proprietor handed us our picture as a souvenir of our Miracle on the Mississippi.
We are still waiting for that last, long, boat whistle!
–Jean Callister
