Just about the one

I spent today in Malad, Idaho.
(Just saying "Malad" makes me grin. I also want to say "Ma-lady" after it. Get it?)
A city that my BlackBerry GPS says doesn't exist.
But, my heart sure knows it does.

I was there to meet a couple of times with some young women and then finish the day with an evening fireside for the girls and their moms.

Well, that's why I THOUGHT I was there.

In all of my travels, I have the chance to enjoy Sunday worship in lots of different places. And every now and then, I can't help but feel that the Lord has orchestrated a moment...in a city I don't belong to...just for me (like in Kansas City, remember?).

Today was another one of those days.

There was a missionary returning to report on his mission experience so the chapel was full and into the overflow. As the Sacrament water was being passed, I noticed two of the priests at the Sacrament table having a quiet discussion about whether or not there would be enough of the little cups of water for each member of the congregation. I could tell one was worried and one was sure what they had prepared would be sufficient.

As the deacons returned to the table with their trays, one by one they each took their turn to pick up a small cup of water from the last tray with cups.

But there weren't enough.
They were short.
By one.
One little deacon was standing at the table in line with all the others.
And there was nothing for him.

The two priests walked back into the room where the Sacrament is prepared.
They filled one little cup.
They brought it back to the Sacrament table.
One priest knelt and recited the prayer.
And then the little deacon partook of the water.

In that moment, it was as if the entire congregation was assembled just so one little 12 yr old boy could partake of the sacrament and renew his covenants.

And it was as if I heard in my mind:
"Sometimes it's just about the one."

That experience stayed with me all afternoon.
Through the rest of the meeting.
Through dinner with some of the most remarkable girls I've ever met.
Through a drive back to the church past the beautiful lush green hills of Malad.

And as I walked into the chapel and sat on the stand before the fireside began, those words came back into my mind:
"Sometimes it's just about the one."

I had this overwhelming sense that while I thought I knew why I had come to Malad, I did not.
But, the Lord did.
And it was for one girl.
I told them about the experience with the sacrament.
And then I shared my impression.
I invited everyone else to just sit there and listen if they'd like.
Only the one girl would know who she was.

I wasn't sure of her identity until the very end.
Our eyes locked in a moment of testifing that God knew her.
And then it happened.
He was testifying to me too.

I knew He had heard my prayer on my drive up to Malad.
I knew He was aware of what was in my heart this morning.
And I knew He knew I knew.

Sometimes it really is just about the one.
And sometimes that one is me.