German would be the death of me. I couldn’t understand anyone
and it was hard for anyone to understand me. On one particular afternoon while
me and Sister Christopher were street contacting I once again was reminded how
much German I didn’t speak.
We had stopped this lovely lady, very elegant looking. We
had been talking about prayer with her and it came for me to bear testimony of
prayer. I gave my all, and butchered every word. I couldn’t even get every word
out. I was stumbling over every syllable and had to ask Sister Christopher multiple times
for the translation of a work. When we finally ended the women just stood there
looking at us. Finally she said, in very broken English, ‘I don’t understand
you, but I know here (touching her heart) what you are saying.
I had cried and thanked the women. Giving her the Book of
Mormon I had written my testimony in. She probably will never know how much she
did for me that day. How she changed the way I served my mission. My German
wasn’t good for many months after this experience but I knew that it wasn’t was
I was saying that was important but what the spirit was testifying to their
hearts that was important.
mit freundlichen Grüßen
Jenessa Jensen
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