A few minutes into our grace period (slash my internal rant), my demeanor changes entirely and I'm ready to bound onward, ever onward, glorying in His name. It's a strange change and it comes quickly, like a well that was dried and cracking is now more than full, splashing over the edges that were brittle seconds prior, not filled drop by drop, or even by flash flood, but just in an instant.
The amazing part of this story, and why I still remember it more than the other thousands of times I was weary and over the heat is that I knew, and I mean it, I knew that my resurgence of energy and vigor came from a prayer my mom said. It was just obvious to me, no question about it. As Sister Sopa and I made our way back down the stairs to whatever backup plan we were going to follow, I counted backwards the hours from here to there, there to here. It was about 5 pm in Thailand, something like 7 am Seattle time, right when my mom would be up and about, getting ready for her day.
I'm sure my mom prayed hundreds of prayers on my behalf while I was on my mission, and at other times in my life, and I'm sure many of them bouyed me up and kept me safe. But this one prayer I know, again I emphasize that I know, certainly and honestly, that it made a difference that day, in that moment.