My Testimony That God Answers Prayers

When I was nine or ten I lived in a small Utah community where there were no house numbers and there was no urgency to add them as everybody knew all the houses by sight. My brother, Jay, was the newspaper carrier and I often helped him with his route. He was sick one Sunday morning. I was alone on my bicycle with a stack of papers and the hand-written list. I got to Harvey Sorenson’s name, and I couldn’t remember where the house was. I was trying to decide between the pink one in front of me and the white one on the corner. I said a prayer. I heard a voice, not my own, speak to me in my head: “The pink house belongs to Harvey Sorenson.” The funny part about this story is, that I contradicted the voice, and said, “No, I think it’s the white one.” Just then, Harvey Sorenson walked out of the pink house and of course I recognized him and delivered his paper. But I knew then, without doubt that there is another unseen world, and that prayers are answered.