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    Lucy's Song: A True Story of Happiness, Heartache, and Healing
    Lucy's Song: A True Story of Happiness, Heartache, and Healing
    Lucy's Song: A True Story of Happiness, Heartache, and Healing
    Ebook133 pages1 hour

    Lucy's Song: A True Story of Happiness, Heartache, and Healing

    By Lucy L'Amour

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    About this ebook

    This is a true story of the author’s life from the time she returns from her mission to what happens when she meets a young man from war-torn Amman, Jordan. The miracles that happen to him as he tries to get out of the country are spectacular and no doubt were divinely inspired. It is the most unlikely of meetings between a Latter-day Saint and a Muslim and the subsequent blessings and consequences of their decisions. It is a testament that no matter our circumstances, we can survive, forgive, and find renewed purpose in living.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLulu Publishing Services
    Release dateMay 23, 2019
    ISBN9781684704156
    Lucy's Song: A True Story of Happiness, Heartache, and Healing

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      Book preview

      Lucy's Song - Lucy L'Amour

      L’Amour

      Copyright © 2019 Lucy L’Amour.

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

      ISBN: 978-1-6847-0416-3 (sc)

      ISBN: 978-1-6847-0415-6 (e)

      Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

      This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

      Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 07/08/2019

      Many thanks to:

      Jason M. Webb, LCSW, who helped me work through my depression and anxiety and find renewed purpose in living.

      My family, who have been my rock and support throughout all the trials of my life.

      My friends, who have listened to me cry too many times, for their endless unconditional love.

      Dedicated to my wonderful son, Elijah.

      You are the best thing that ever happened to me. You are my miracle.

      CHAPTER 1

      On My Way Home

      The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.

      —Mahatma Gandhi

      I was born in the spring of 1958 in Oakland, California. By the time I was 3-years-old, my parents moved to Idaho. They had six children, first three girls and then three boys. I am the middle daughter. My parents raised me in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I was blessed to gain a strong testimony at a very early age.

      My parents bought a home in Boise. I never veered far from home. Mom had strict rules and I was eager to please her with my obedience. That might fall under the category of middle child syndrome, I’m not sure.

      Our family used to take vacations to visit my grandparents in California every few years. That is as far as I ever went away from home. I enjoyed being at home with my family. As far as I was concerned, my life would be in Boise, always.

      When I got a little older, I started looking at maps of the United States. For some reason, I was drawn to the state of Texas. I had a yearning to go there someday. It stayed with me for many years, but I didn’t do anything with it or realize it meant anything.

      Life went on. I did all the things a young lady growing up in the church should do. I was baptized, confirmed, received my patriarchal blessing, attended seminary, and held callings in the church. After high school I worked full-time for a few years and then decided to go to BYU in Provo, Utah for a year. If I didn’t find a husband within that year, I intended to go on a mission. I didn’t find a husband.

      My parents travelled to Provo with my unopened mission call in hand. They wanted to surprise me. They let my roommates know they were coming and while I went to dinner with my parents, they decorated our apartment for the celebration. My parents then handed the envelope to me to open. I read through it quickly to see where I was going. I couldn’t believe it, it said The Texas Houston Spanish Mission. The realization of why I had been preoccupied with Texas maps for so many years suddenly hit me. I was so excited and happy.

      When I arrived in Texas, everything was different. I had never been outside of Idaho except for on a few vacations to California. It might as well have been another country for me. I was like a fish out of water in this beautiful state. I wasn’t used to the humidity and the searing sun. My hair frizzed up, my drawn-on eyebrows melted, and my skin suffered second degree burns. My hands and fingers swelled up to the point that I could not hold on to the discussion books. Ultimately, I had to wear sunglasses, a brim hat, long sleeves, gloves, and a whole lot of sunscreen, all in over ninety-degree weather. I looked a little out of place walking down the streets as we tracted, but it peaked the curiosity of many onlookers and it was a reason to get in the door to give our message.

      You could say I was a little culture shocked when I went on my mission. Albeit I was still in the good old United States of America, I had never seen the world like I did in Texas. There was an incident that frightened my companion and me. For some reason someone was stalking her. One evening we were running a little late from our appointment. We hurried home to our apartment. We passed a dead body lying on the road which was covered with a sheet. There was a shoe nearby. The police were looking in the ravine for evidence. That shocked us, but we kept going.

      Next, we came upon a group of barely clad prostitutes who were stopping the cars ahead of us. Their pimp was swinging his billy club urging them to get work. I had never seen anything like this before in my very sheltered life. Yet, we carefully maneuvered our way around them and continued driving.

      Soon my companion turned down a street because she thought someone was following us. At the same time, someone else was coming the wrong way down the same street. We missed them by a hair. We got to the apartment complex and were ogled by the men there as we swiftly walked to our apartment. As soon as we entered, the phone rang. It was an obscene phone caller.

      We took some deep breaths. We were grateful to be safe and sound at home and we thanked God for our safety in our prayers that night. We later told a family in the ward about the experience. For our protection, the father gave us a knife. Of course, we couldn’t keep it (nor did we want to), so we gave it back to him. My mission president asked me to share that experience with all the elders that were leaving their mission at the same time as me.

      On another occasion while serving in Houston, I had a dream. It was such an odd dream, but very vivid. I dreamt I was in the middle of a war and I had to deliver a Book of Mormon to someone who lived in a tiny home at the top of a lot of stairs. First, the Book of Mormon had to be licked by a camel, then I ran through a hail of bullets to knock on the door and gave it to a man who lived there. The bullets missed me every time. The dream took all night and by morning I was exhausted. I knew that this dream had some significance to me, but I didn’t know what it meant for many years.

      I met a wonderful member family in Houston. They had a daughter who was disabled. She could not walk, talk, or eat. They fed her through a tube. She had long brown hair usually kept in braids, and dark brown eyes. She was beautiful. When I met her, she was about 10-years-old. She had a full-time nurse attending to her needs. We baptized the nurse’s son. During this time on my mission, there was a riot that broke out

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