A Miracle & Small Successes

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Sunday was interesting. In Utah, Sacrament meeting is first and generally has around 200 people there. This time, my first Sunday in France, the Alençon branch had a total of 6 people not including the two missionaries. President Oliver and his wife were there, an elderly man, Frère Borgeaud and his daughter, Floriane, and two of the three Boixel sisters, Marina and Delphine.

Church started with a combined Priesthood and Relief Society because of the size of the group. Then it was Sunday School, which was together once again. After that was Sacrament, where they made me introduce myself because I was new. That was rough.

After church, we ate and went out looking for people to talk to, but with no avail. We had no luck. The next day was P-day, which went quickly. We just hung around the city and got some good bread and a pastry. I stuck with an éclair because it looked so good. We ended the P-day by again looking for people to talk to, but once again didn’t get anywhere. I felt like it was getting ridiculous, we seemed to talk to so many people and nothing came of it.

Tuesday was interviews with the mission president. In the morning, Elder McQuay and I got ready and got to the train station to catch a train to Caen. I was excited to travel a little bit and see another city. I had been to Caen before, but it was dark, so it will be nice to see it in the daylight.

We arrived in Caen after an hour long train ride. We exited the gare (or train station) and headed to the above ground metro. It took us up past a huge cathedral that seemed to sit in the middle of town. Then we were headed up toward the university. There were a lot of college students on the metro and hanging around.

“That’s my church,” someone said in English with an accent. I was a few steps away from Elder McQuay because of the flux of people getting on and off the train. I looked over at Elder McQuay, where the voice was coming from.

“That’s my church,” the man repeated as he pointed at Elder McQuay’s black plaque. He was a tall, skinny African man. “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.”

“Oh yeah?” Elder McQuay asked. I made my way over to them and the man was also joined by a smaller African man who had a big grin on his face. “When were you baptized?”

“Well, my baptism was going to be yesterday in Greece, but I had to leave,” the man said. “I know Joseph Smith is a prophet.”

“Wow, really?” I said in awe. “What’s your name?”

“Muhammad. And this is Saladin.” the man said simply and pointing to his friend.

“Muhammad?” Elder McQuay repeated. “Are you Muslim?”

“Yes, that is why we had to leave,” Muhammad said. “My family found out I was a Christian, so they chased me away. That is why I was in Greece. But they found me again.”

“Where are you from originally?” I asked.

“Sierra Leone,” Muhammad said.

“I know Joseph Smith is a prophet and Jesus Christ is the Son of God,” Saladin kept repeating.

“I just got here yesterday. I prayed last night that I would find the missionaries. Then I saw you here today,” Muhammad said. “God answers all of my prayers.”

I didn’t know what to say. These men were incredible. I just looked over at Elder McQuay and caught a similar glance back.

“Well, we are headed up to the church right now to meet with a group of missionaries,” Elder McQuay said. “You can come with us if you want.”

We arrived at the stop and walked for minute up a hill to arrive at the church. The whole time we walked, Muhammad and Saladin continued to testify of Jesus Christ, prayer, and Joseph Smith.

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