“Mother and I Prayed Together,” Ensign, Jan. 1983, 31–32
As third from the oldest in a family of nine children, I learned early the great value of loving and sharing. I also learned the value of the dollar.
When I was seventeen and a junior in high school, I began working as a waitress in a well-known restaurant. I was new and unskilled, and made very little in tips at first.
One afternoon as I was getting ready for work, I noticed that my mother seemed very worried and unhappy. I took her aside where the younger children could not hear and asked her what was wrong. Softly, fighting tears, she began to tell me the problem. She was worried about getting enough food for the family for the evening meal. The small shop my father operated had failed to bring in any money for several days, the groceries in the house had diminished, and now there wasn’t enough to feed eleven hungry people. None of the children had any money saved up to lend her for supper that night. Even I had none.
At this point we were both weeping. Lovingly I pressed her head on my shoulder, trying to comfort her. Then came a reassuring urge to pray. It was our only recourse. “Mom,” I said, “let’s have prayer together. Heavenly Father will help us.” Smiling, she said “okay.”
We knelt together and each offered a prayer. The Spirit was overwhelming, and when we finished we put our arms around each other. We knew something would happen.
Later that day, after I had gone to work, mother called me, her voice cracking from emotion. It seems that someone had come into the shop only minutes before closing time and made a purchase; then someone else had come in and paid his bill early! She had enough money for supper. Fighting the lump in my throat, I replied that I too had made more money than usual—close to $14 in tips in only two and a half hours. Usually I went home after five or six hours of work with less money than that.
After hanging up the phone, I found a quiet corner and humbly thanked my Father in Heaven for his goodness and for sustaining my faith and that of my mother.