Last Sunday, a member of our ward stood at the pulpit to bear his testimony and told the story of a woman, one of his clients (I believe he is a physical therapist). The woman was from Flatbush, a neighborhood in Brooklyn, New York. She was born and raised a Jew.
The man sharing his testimony had been on his mission in New York and lived only a few blocks away from where the woman grew up in Flatbush. He then asked her how a Flatbush Jew wound up in Salt Lake, and she told him her story.
After she married, she moved away from New York to Texas where one day her husband left her “high and dry” with three children. She prayed for help—over a period of years, I think—without getting an answer. One day she said to God, “If I have to pray to Jesus, that’s what I’ll do.” She was reluctant, having had her mouth washed out with soap for saying the name Jesus when she was young. Well, pray she did.
She got an answer. “Be patient. Help is coming soon.” The answer came when one of her daughters called to say, “I met a guy. We went on a date and I really like him. The problem is, he’s a Christian.”
He happened to be a Latter-day Saint. They were married. In due time the woman and her daughter were baptized into the Church and are still faithful today.