The Reason I Came

One year ago, I was serving as a missionary in Townsend, Montana. Townsend is a small town, about thirty-five minutes south of Helena, the state capitol. I loved Townsend. When I think about my mission, and what it has meant to me, Townsend always comes to mind.
I will never forget one Tuesday afternoon. My companion, Elder Roerdanz, and I were in Helena for meetings. We were finishing up, and preparing to drive home. We were headed down the State Highway 12, still in town, nearing East Helena. I had the strongest impression: "Go find the Heffelfingers,"
(name changed).
I didn't know anything about the Heffelfingers, really. They were to me a name on a page at that time. If I remember correctly, Theirs was the last name on a long list of names we were to try.
I had asked about them to those in Townsend who had met them. I found that they lived way up on the border of our area, near Helena, and that they were often busy with work. Sister Heffelfinger worked at the capitol building. I had already tried to call, but never got through. In attempting to locate the home, I had also failed, for as I later found out, our records had the wrong address recorded.
So, I knew we had to find them, but the only option left was to search the capitol building.

We turned the car around and went back. I still remember walking up to the massive, old building. We entered, and all sorts of stares came our way. People would look at us, and at first they wouldn't seem to care; after all, we were in suits like everyone else; but then they would see the name tags, and quickly glance away, frown, or turn.

Others were busy, involved in heated discussions, or running quickly to get to some other office, carrying papers and pens and looking very stressed out. It was a fairly busy day in the capitol.

The side we went to first was, naturally, the opposite side of the building from where Sister Heffelfinger was working. But having learned her location, we set forward, hoping that we would find her.

As we approached the office, some interesting thoughts began running through my head. "How in the world did I end up here? I'm a missionary, in Montana, wearing this black suit and walking determinedly through the state capitol building, drawing attention and making a scene. I'm going to find someone who I have never met. For all I know, she will be annoyed and disturbed that we would stalk her down at work to try to proselyte to her. I think I felt impressed to come here. I'm pretty sure. Well, whatever. Here it goes."

The Spirit filled the room. It was like we understood that there was something incredible happening, even though we had no idea what it could be. She looked up from her desk, smiled, and we introduced ourselves.
We didn't stay long, but we set up a time to meet with the whole family. We left, on fire.

I didn't know then that she had been praying for help, direction, and peace.
I didn't know that she had been searching for spiritual guidance.
I couldn't have planned that perfectly-timed event.

It's hard to describe the feeling of being a tool in the hands of God.

This family has become to me the reason I'm serving a mission. Though there have been many others whom I have loved and known, helped and baptized, finding this family is the central purpose of my mission.

In the next few articles, I am going to recount some of the lessons we had in the Heffelfinger home. I will try to remember the things we all felt as this process of conversion began in their home.
Continued in "Leah's Conversion".