On the particular day of the event, we’d been ‘tracting’ (as was our customary activity) in an area replete with streets of common dwellings. Having been ‘tracting’ that area for weeks (we always kept records of where we’d been to avoid repetition and undue interruptions to the populace) with virtually no success at obtaining interest from anyone; we were beginning to dishearten. It being my ‘door’ (we always alternated ‘doors’ to offer what variety we could to each other); I had raised my hand to activate the knocker (a common door accessory) to alert the occupant that we were at their door. Inches from the knocker, I paused and turned to my companion behind me. Anxious, I announced to him that we were “in the wrong place”. To his credit, he quickly reviewed our records and declared, “No, were in the right place” and he held up the record for me to confirm. I replied, I knew that our records were correct. I then proposed that we were not tracting the area our Heavenly Father wanted us to tract. He looked at me confused and wide-eyed as he continued to examine our notes. Standing in the doorstep of the house, I suggested we stop to eat our lunch and review our circumstances. To this he agreed and we found a rock wall as part of a nearby landscape; sitting atop it to eat our bland popcorn. Perplexed and distraught to think we were not where our Heavenly Father wanted us; we began to review the map of Leatherhead where we colored in the streets that we’d tracted thus far. Sitting there atop the wall; examining the map and munching our bland popcorn, we worried – not only that we might be in the wrong place; but that we knew not where to correct ourselves. 

It was a deeply disturbing shared experience! As we reviewed the map, I suggested we might go and look over a nearby borough named Effingham. Effingham was an extremely small borough composed of maybe five streets well outside our assigned area. As I suggested it, Elder Moore reminded me that it was outside our area and to examine it we’d have to disobey mission rules - we were not authorized to leave our assigned area. I concurred with his assessment. Nevertheless, I reiterated that we ride our bikes to Effingham; to examine it as an alternative to where we currently were. To Elder Moore’s credit he agreed. We completed our popcorn and mounted our bikes to cycle the 5 or so miles to Effingham. It took us about an hour of cycling to reach the main entrance from the highway to the few streets of Effingham. All the time as we cycled, I could not shake the anxiety that I could not explain what or how I’d declared our need to alter our location as I did at the door. I was very scared that I might be leading us in an incorrect way because I was distressed at our seeming ‘spinning wheels’ where we were. How would I explain myself if Effingham were a distinct ‘dead end’. How would I ever trust myself again should our long trip from our area and dismissal of mission rules prove foolish. I genuinely worried that my own trust of myself was seriously at stake as we neared Effingham. As we turned into the few streets of Effingham, we discovered it was a very small borough of ~5 streets connected and populated with neither poor nor rich dwellings. As was customary, we rode about the streets attempting to discern a valid reason for tracting the area. It would occupy us but a few weeks and seemed to not be entirely worth a concerted effort. Nevertheless, we continued and found ourselves straddling our bikes at the top of one of the streets leading to the highway and home. Standing there together, Elder Moore and I conversed briefly about our feelings and thoughts. Unable to arrive at a conclusion, I reasoned that our efforts had taken most of the afternoon and that we might head for home to our evening meal (of popcorn) and sleep ‘on it’ until the morrow. (I was primarily stalling for time.) With that we coasted down the street toward our exit. Near the exit was a short side street that rose to a cul-de-sac like intersection. Elder Moore was in front; and as we neared the highway, I found I could not leave and ‘peeled away’ from Elder Moore as he exited and began his journey to Leatherhead. Simultaneously, I coasted to the cul-de-sac bend and came to a stop in the center. Straddling my bike, I peered at the dwellings. Not knowing what else to do; I simply bowed my head and prayed the following. “Heavenly Father, we are here on your errand. We do not know what to do; and we need your help. Please let us know if we should be here or not. Otherwise, we’re not likely to return. In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen” With that, I raised my head and looked again at the dwellings surrounding the cul-de-sac. Feeling nothing, I considered that I had a ‘stupor of thought’ as represented in the scriptures; and decided to abandon the area.

I slowly turned my bike and began to slowly coast down the side street (Norwood) along its right side. A few feet along, I observed a young man leave his front door on the left side of the street and stride toward his front fence and gate. At the same time, I became aware of the ‘voice you do not hear’ in my mind. It conveyed simply, “Ask that young man if the Mormon Missionaries had ever been through Effingham.” Requiring a few feet as I coasted, I ‘heard’ another voice saying “oh, why bother?” All this time, I was coasting and the young man was approaching his front gate. The 1^st voice was gentle, kind and entreating. The 2^nd voice was slightly confrontational, dismissive and seemingly expectant of obedience. To my own dismay, I simply determined that I’d oblige the 1^st voice and replied in my mind a simple “OK”; but was dismissed by the combative tone of the 2^nd voice. Coasting a few more feet; the 1^st voice repeated its first suggestion verbatim, “Ask that young man if the Mormon Missionaries had ever been through Effingham”. This repetition was accompanied with the same gentle, kind manner; but a slightly more urgent tone was present with its pronouncement. Again, the 2^nd voice presented its same message but with a much more intensified tone. It repeated “Oh, why bother?” However, this message was presented with a much more dismissive, belligerent tone and a more intensified expectation that it would be adhered to. Though I’d only coasted a few yards along the right side of the street (likely unnoticed by the young man) I became aware that two opposing influences were making themselves known in my mind; and intrigued, I became much more aware that I was a third party involved in the discussion occurring within my mind. Inasmuch as I had coasted very nearly directly opposite the young man at his gate, I received a final directive. Just as kind, just as gentle, the voice simply stated “Ask him!” and its directive occurred with such earnestness that I immediately swerved across the street arriving at the curbside immediately outside his gate. Surprised by my sudden appearance as he closed his gate behind him, he hesitated. He seemed a somewhat common looking middle-class young man dressed in workman clothes; as if he were enroute to his regular job. He was young, dark-haired and about 5’9” tall. He appeared to be between 18 and 20 years old. Because I’d experienced many such young men and endured their intimidation and ‘cat calls’; I expected something similar from this young man. Though I did not want to incur such ostracization; I nevertheless approached him in concurrence with the encouragement of spiritual influence. I immediately stated exactly as I’d been directed. “Excuse me, Have the Mormon Missionaries ever been through here before?” To this he asked, “You a Mormon?” Expecting a torrent of profane castigation, I replied, “Yes, I’m a Mormon Missionary.” To this he simply replied, “I’m a Mormon!” As he and I were discussing the extraordinary occurrence that had just taken place, my companion Elder Moore came riding up the street and stopped facing us; leaning against the curb. I’d been the only witness to the full experience; and its resulting introduction having taken place just moments earlier.

Suffice it to say that the young man was an elder son of the Whiteman family living at that dwelling. They were the only ‘Mormon’ family in the entire borough and had grown inactive because they were unaware that the Epsom Church as a short distance away. There were five children of baptismal age that had never been baptized. We taught the family and they were fully activated as all five children were baptized. 

Recognizing that a matter of hours earlier, we’d stood at a door knowing we’d need to alter our efforts but not knowing what, where or how. We’d proceeded to endeavor not knowing beforehand what to do. With all the dilemmas that had taken place; all the faith needed to overcome obstacles; and finally arriving at a strictly unplanned, fortuitous result; it had been a miraculous occurrence that few had experienced. The young man knew not of the prior dilemma, Elder Moore was unaware of the prayer in the cul-de-sac. I alone had been privileged to experience the fullness of the development. I alone was blessed to know of the miracle and influence of being led literally throughout that day to an experience that literally placed me within feet of the only member within miles around. I had heard of elders being so led, but had never experienced it for myself. Furthermore, the lives of five were transformed with the association brought about at his gate that day. Knowing the numerous experiences that needed to ‘dovetail’ that day is mind-boggling to me and a testimony that the spirit of our God directs this work. We only need be cognizant as we traverse the pathways we’re called upon to follow.

I should note that by the time I had gone to retrieve my son, Grant from his mission in the North of England, I was not entirely sure that I had remembered this event as accurately as I could. Therefore, as we arrived at the time where we could visit the locations of my mission in the South of England; we revisited this location. Together we reviewed the event, as my son recorded my recollections in the video camera we were using. Interestingly, we both discovered that I had remembered the event down to the very finest detail! As we recorded my recollection, one of the Whiteman men walked up Norwood cul-de-sac. As he approached, he naturally questioned my purpose at his front sidewalk. In response, I queried as to who now lived in the location of this home.  To my surprise (and delight) he replied that the Whitemans lived there! I briefly explained why Grant and I were there to which he stated he would go inside and retrieve his mother; and we could talk further. It turned out that the Whitemans never left that home! Mrs. Whiteman came to the door where she and I reunited, reviewing the events that surrounded her children's baptism. She, of course, had forgotten the events surrounding that day. (Not to mention the things of my remembrance she could not have known.) Unbeknownst to me, Grant was holding the video camera up and recorded the entire conversation. At the end of our verbal exchange, we wished them well and excused ourselves to go on toward Leatherhead and Southampton. I found this event to be of particular interest in that it reaffirmed my memory of the events surrounding the miracle! 

You'll have to decide at some point - To stay put or to risk it all, Following after God!