This week, I’d love to share another little story of a time when I felt that I had brothers and sisters across the world by being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You can read the introduction to this series HERE and read some of our readers’ stories of their own HERE. We would love to hear from you if you have stories of times when members of the Church that didn’t know you, helped you when you were far from home. You can send your stories to pr***********@ho*****.com.

I was on my way to start my very first term of graduate school at Oxford University. I was excited. I was alone. And I was on a shoestring budget. I was in London, riding the underground, clutching my carefully printed confirmation page for the bus ticket I had pre-purchased to ride the “Oxford Tube” bus out to Oxford from Victoria Station.

Having since been in London and Oxford so many times, it seems silly that I was so anxious in this situation. The Oxford Tube leaves frequently and you can buy a ticket as you step on the bus. But I had pre-purchased a scheduled ticket and I if I didn’t make it, I would have to buy another ticket with money I didn’t have and for all I knew, there wouldn’t be another bus to my destination for hours. I was worried, staring at my watch, willing it to slow down or willing the train to go faster.

I was overheated with the stress and the crowds of people quietly sharing the train car. I was already sweating–it was going to be razor thin margins to run to the bus when we pulled into the tube–and then I realized something even worse. The underground, true to its name, is deep under the city. There are stairs and the longest escalators, but rarely, rarely an elevator. I looked at my two overstuffed suitcases and thought, “how can I possible move quickly up stairs or escalators with these?”

It couldn’t be done. Or at least, it couldn’t be done without help. We were going to pull into Victoria station with maybe 3-4 minutes before the bus was to leave. I needed somebody to help me and I didn’t know who it could possibly be. I whispered a desperate prayer to Heavenly Father that He would send me a way to move these suitcases quickly. I had no idea what the answer to that prayer could possibly look like.

That is, until two young men in white shirts and ties boarded the tube at the stop just before mine. That was what an answered prayer looked like. I quickly went up to the Elders and explained my situation. I didn’t even know if they had planned to get off at Victoria Station, but they quickly agreed to each take a suitcase and we three would run as fast as we could.

Sure enough, the doors opened and we ran out, I ran ahead and asked for directions as they slowed only slightly to wait for my signal. I can still hear the rumble of my suitcase wheels on rough pavement and see them trotting along quickly in their formal missionary clothing as we ran to catch the right bus. And sure enough, I caught it. I was the last one on. The Elders handed up my suitcases and we waved goodbye.

I don’t know their names, I don’t even remember their faces anymore, but I’ll never forget the feeling that the Lord had heard my prayer in a foreign city and sent me two of my spiritual family members to come to my aid.

We call each other “brother” and “sister”, but it’s times like that, that it feels true.

And knowing now that there would’ve been another bus and I needn’t have worried so much, but the Lord answered my prayer anyway, makes me appreciate how much He has compassion on us even when our limited, mortal perception makes us worry about things that we don’t need to worry about. Jesus knew that he could raise Lazarus and he still wept.

Do you have a story of when a “brother” or “sister” in the gospel, that might otherwise have been a stranger, connected with you or helped you when you were far from home? Submit your stories at pr***********@ho*****.com.