President Clark told me that the Lord had been pleased with my service and that He knew the intentions and desires of my heart. My thoughts during the blessing were, “please let me stay.” Then I heard these words in my mind, “Are you willing to devote your life to me?” I remember saying “yes” many times; acknowledging that I would devote the remainder of my life to Him.
My mom, Chandra Chapman Evans, always knows when something is wrong with her children. In southern Oregon on the morning of December 10, 2016, around 7:00 a.m., my mom woke up in a sweat and feeling anxious. Some may call it a mother’s intuition, but she calls it her “spidey sense.” She felt something was wrong and proceeded to check on her kids. Everyone was okay. But she couldn’t check on me. I was three thousand miles away serving a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Orlando, Florida. She thought, “it can’t be Sierra.” She brushed it off as a nightmare and got ready for the day.
It was my mom who encouraged me to serve a mission for the Church. She is my rock and the most faithful woman I know. She loves her Savior, Jesus Christ. I had recently graduated from high school, and I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I wasn’t super active in church anymore even though I did go to seminary while I was attending school. I met a sister missionary, Sister Mandy Bennett, who was serving in our ward, and she was such a good example for me. Between my mom’s encouragement and Sister Bennett’s example, I decided to serve a mission. I submitted my mission paperwork a few months later and was called to serve in the Orlando, Florida mission. I was nineteen years old and felt like I was taking the next right step in my life. I was excited to serve in Orlando, partly because I’m a big Disney fan. I left home in March 2016. Little did I know what awaited me on my mission.
My excitement turned to a feeling of defeat during my time at the Missionary Training Center (MTC) in Provo, Utah. I caught the flu or a stomach bug and was sick the entire time. On top of that, my MTC teacher was critical of me. He chastised me for not having a strong testimony and not knowing the scriptures very well. I must admit that he was right. I also went out on this mission without having a testimony of Joseph Smith’s First Vision or the Restoration. My MTC teacher told me to go home if I didn’t have a testimony, and at one point, I did consider going home. I knew I wasn’t “getting it” and felt like I was a subpar missionary. But I’m not a quitter, and I don’t give up when things get hard, so I stuck it out and finished my training.
I arrived in Orlando and had an amazing trainer, Sister Brittney Johnson. She helped me through my feelings of inadequacy. But I still had this lingering feeling and wondered why I was on a mission.
When I was sixteen years old, I received my patriarchal blessing. The Patriarch had pronounced the verbal blessing when I was in his presence, but when the written blessing arrived in the mail, I never bothered to read it. Now I was kicking myself for not having read it before I left home to serve my mission. Maybe if I had, it would have given me the confirmation I needed that this is what I’m supposed to be doing. A couple days after arriving in Orlando, I was rummaging through my suitcase. In one of the pockets was an envelope. I hadn’t put it there. I opened the envelope and inside was my patriarchal blessing! My faithful, inspired mother put it in my suitcase knowing that I would need it at some point on my mission. All my doubts about serving a mission were gone as soon as I read my blessing. It said, “It will be your great privilege to be called to serve in the kingdom, to teach and lead in the Church, and to prepare those whom you serve for their own growth in the Church.” After having this confirmation, it was my turning point. I no longer thought of myself as a subpar missionary. I was going to be a great missionary and a wonderful representative of my Savior, Jesus Christ. I was now “all in.”
About seven months into my mission, I met Keylimar Cabello. She was investigating the Church, and my companion and I were teaching her the gospel. Keylimar is a professional ponderer, always asking questions and questioning everything. Lessons with her made me dig deeper into the scriptures so that I could answer her questions. Some of the most spiritual lessons I ever taught were with Keylimar. I began to connect with her, and we became very close, and I could feel the Spirit testifying through me to her. I became stronger in my testimony as I taught her. I came to realize, through the promptings of the Holy Ghost, that Keylimar and I had been friends in the pre-existence, and she was the reason I was sent on this mission. She was “the one” I was supposed to teach and share the gospel with. Keylimar decided that she wanted to become a member of the Church. Her baptism was set for January 2017.
On December 10, 2016, my companion, Sister Smith, and I were riding our bikes near the University of Central Florida campus. We were heading to a member’s home to do a service project. It was about 10:00 a.m. (Note: the time zone for Orlando is 3 hours ahead of southern Oregon). I was riding in front of Sister Smith. We were biking on the sidewalk of a busy road and came to an apartment complex entrance. I stopped at the entrance because a car was there waiting to merge into traffic. I motioned to the driver to see if I could proceed in front of her because I could see there was no break in the traffic. I thought she gave me a nod, but just as I was biking in front of her car, she accelerated quickly to take advantage of a small opening in the traffic. She hit me hard and sent me flying off my bike into oncoming traffic.
Thank goodness the first driver in the oncoming traffic saw what happened and slammed on his brakes. I could hear the screeching of his tires, and he stopped just in time to avoid hitting me. He positioned his car to protect me from being hit by other cars. I knew immediately that I had a serious injury to my left leg. I was in excruciating pain. I grabbed my leg and noticed that my foot wasn’t where it was supposed to be. It was at an awkward angle and was twisted grotesquely under my leg. I could see bone pushing against my skin from under my jeans on the outside of my leg. The only concern I had at that time was if I was going to be sent home from my mission. I was crying from pain and disappointment. I had a feeling that my mission was over.
Sister Smith (who is always very calm) was panicking. She took one look at my leg and started hyperventilating. The gentleman who blocked traffic got out of his car to assist me. He exclaimed that he was a helicopter paramedic. He told me that he needed to get me out of the road. Though I didn’t want to be moved because I was in so much pain, he insisted, and with the help of Sister Smith and the woman who hit me, they moved me to the sidewalk. Because of his training, he knew how to move me without causing further injury to my leg.
A passerby saw the accident and called 911. The police and ambulance were there in just a few minutes. The EMT gave me pain medication, which helped to calm me. He also put a stint on my leg. I was asking the police officer, Brian, to call my mission president. He had no idea what I was talking about and looked to my companion, who said “I’m on it.” While the EMT worked on my leg I asked him if he thought my leg was broken. He responded with a smile on his face and said, “Yeah, you broke your tibia and fibula!” (As if that would make me feel any better). I was crying all over again and just praying to God that I would be able to stay on my mission. I didn’t want to stop teaching Keylimar; I felt that she was so close to baptism. Also, I was only half-way through my mission and had nine more months to serve the Lord. My work wasn’t finished yet.
After being rushed to the emergency room I was met by my bishop, Dennis Hunt, who arrived at the hospital first. He looked at my leg. He tried to cover his shock but told me, “Sis, it’s pretty bad.” I was taken to get my leg x-rayed. It was when the technician lifted my leg that I saw it for the first time. (I was too afraid to look at it before.) What I saw turned my stomach. It was then that I knew for sure that I was going home. My mission president, David Clark, arrived after my x-rays were done. He, too, looked at my leg. I asked him if I was going home. With tears in his eyes, he nodded, and said I would have to go home; the injury was just too severe. I was so upset. Everything had been going so well. I loved my companion. I loved everyone that I was sharing the gospel with, especially Keylimar.
My mission president asked me if I would like a blessing and I said yes. Both he and the bishop gave me a blessing. President Clark began the blessing. As he spoke the words, I kept repeating in my mind, pleading with God, to let me stay on my mission. I told Him repeatedly that I would do whatever He wanted me to do if I could just stay and finish my mission. President Clark told me that the Lord had been pleased with my service and that He knew the intentions and desires of my heart. My thoughts during the blessing were, “please let me stay.” Then I heard these words in my mind, “Are you willing to devote your life to me?” I remember saying “yes” many times; acknowledging that I would devote the remainder of my life to Him.
After I made this promise with God, President Clark pronounced these words, “I command your body to be healed.” A warm, comforting feeling started at the top of my head and worked through my whole body and into my left leg. This feeling lingered in my leg at my injury site. Though the morphine had worn off, I had no more pain in my leg. I thanked God for the time I had on my mission but was still thinking I would have to leave. I still hadn’t looked at my foot or leg under the blanket.
As soon as the blessing ended, a doctor came into the room and told me that there were no broken bones, only a serious contusion and swelling. We all looked at him in disbelief. I even remember asking him if he had the right room. He confirmed that he did. It was then that I looked at my leg. My foot was back where it was supposed to be. There were no bones pressing against my skin internally. Everyone in the room was amazed. Before the blessing, my leg was broken in multiple places. After the blessing, only a contusion and swelling.
My foot was put in a boot, and I was sent home on crutches. I only needed the crutches for three weeks. The wonderful and joyous outcome was that I got to stay on my mission. I was pleased to be a part of Keylimar’s baptism, and we remain friends to this day. I was released from my mission in September 2017 and returned home to southern Oregon.
As for my mom, her “spidey senses” were right on. One of her children was not okay. It was at the same time that I was hit by the car that my mom awoke from her nightmare. Everyone is grateful that God spared my life, healed my leg, and allowed me to stay on my mission. After returning home, I had another x-ray because I thought I had broken my ankle at college. The doctor asked me if I had broken my ankle before because he saw that there was new bone growth that had repaired an earlier break. That confirmed what I already knew – I had indeed broken my ankle on my mission. I’m sure if an x-ray was taken of the other bones in my left leg, it would confirm the same thing.
I will never forget the promise I made with God on that December day in Orlando, Florida. He entered my story that day and met me where I was - a hurting and heartbroken young missionary. I know that He is in control. I have learned to let go of my own expectations and plans and allow His will to govern my path. I have learned to trust His timing. I can’t deny my testimony. I can’t deny the power of the priesthood. I was given this miracle, and I will never turn my back on God.
I am now married to Alex Hanson, and we live in Rexburg, Idaho. I have found an eternal companion who will walk beside me as I keep my covenants with God. I made a promise to devote my life to Him. Whatever God wants me to do and wherever He wants me to go, I will follow Him for the remainder of my life.
Submitted by Sierra Evans Hanson from Rexburg, Idaho
June 2021
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