The Vietnamese Woman at Temple Square

I wrap my shawl protectively over my shoulders as I see a sign that may have directions. It's my first day in Salt Lake, and I think I must have gotten off the bus at the wrong stop. I just followed the crowd and ended up here. I would ask for directions, but I just came from Vietnam and my English is not good enough. I read the sign, understanding enough to know that it just has event dates on it, not directions. It's no use. I just don't know where I am. I linger at the sign, praying for the first time in years that I will find my way.

As I walk away from the sign, I am approached by two young women with name-tags. One of them has a Vietnam flag on her name-tag. They start to speak to me in English, but I say in Vietnamese, "I don't understand." The woman with the Vietnam flag starts to speak to me in Vietnamese. I tell her that I am lost, and she is able to help me. But before we part ways, she asks if I have a moment to come somewhere with them. I say yes; I owe that much to them. They bring me to a place with a lot of copies of a book, all in different languages. They give me the one in Vietnamese. The cover reads, "The Book of Mormon." The Vietnamese girl asks me if I will read it. For some reason, tears fill my eyes as I am filled with an overwhelming emotion. I tell her yes, I will read it. She then helps me find where I'm going and we part ways.

I am able to find my way to the apartment building I was looking for, and my day goes as expected from there. But somehow, I cannot stop thinking of the kindness of the young women, and of the book they gave me. I open it that night.