Gospel Story Finder

When my wife and I had only been married a year and a half, she was ready to deliver our first baby. We had decided that she would have the baby in the Chihuahua colonies, where she had been born. At that time I was working in Mexico City, and we decided that she would be there a month ahead of the delivery date. I was planning to join her later.
The delivery date arrived. I was at work when I received a call from my father-in-law. The news was good: “Octaviano, your wife has given birth, and you now have a little daughter who is beautiful.” So, in my happiness, I began to announce this to my friends and partners at work, who in turn asked me for chocolates to celebrate the birth of my little one.
The next day I began to give out chocolates throughout the four floors of our office building. When I reached the second floor, I received another call from my father-in-law. This time the news was different: “Octaviano, your wife is fine, but your daughter has passed away. The funeral will be today, and you don’t have time to come. What are you going to do?” I asked to speak with Rosa, my wife, and then asked her if she was OK. She replied that she was fine, depending on how I was feeling. Then we talked about the plan of salvation, remembering this scripture:
“And I also beheld that all children who die before they arrive at the years of accountability are saved in the celestial kingdom of heaven” (D&C 137:10).
I asked her, “Do you believe that?” And she said, “Yes, I do.” Then I replied, “We should be happy then. I love you. And if you are OK with that, I’ll take my vacation in two weeks, spend some time with you, and return back together to Mexico.”
We knew that one day we would be reunited with our daughter because we were sealed by the power of the priesthood in the temple. We ended the telephone call, and I resumed giving out the chocolates in my office building.
Seeing me do this, one of my co-workers was surprised and asked me how I could do this after such terrible news. I answered, “If you have three hours, I can explain to you why I am not feeling too sad and about my knowledge of what happens after death.” He didn’t have three hours at that moment but did later. We ended up talking for four hours. He accepted the gospel and, together with his mother and brother, was baptized into the Church after receiving the discussions.
I know that thanks to the power of godliness manifested in the ordinances of the temple, I will now be able to know my daughter. I will embrace her, and we will be with her for eternity, just as we are now with our three surviving children.

I had the privilege of spending four weeks in Kofu, Japan, with my good friend Yuki and her family. Having the Spirit as my guide helped me to share my beliefs with Yuki.
One day I purchased a small Church hymnbook in Japanese at the distribution center. A few days later I felt impressed to give Yuki my hymnbook. I thought about how weird this was because I had purchased the hymnbook for myself and not for her. Nevertheless, I gave her the hymnbook. I felt a little better, knowing I had done what I was prompted to do.
A while later, we were playing music downstairs, and Yuki told me she wanted to sing the hymns. I played some of the hymns on the piano while she sang in Japanese. I had a feeling of pure joy listening to my friend singing the songs I knew so well. Even though I did not know all the words to follow along, the Spirit was strong. I am very grateful I followed the promptings of the Spirit.

Many years ago a couple of fellow airline captains and I decided to fulfill a boyhood dream of restoring an antique airplane. Together we purchased a worn-down 1938 Piper Cub and started the work of returning it to its original form. The project was a labor of love. It had special meaning for me because I had learned to fly in a similar airplane when I was a young man.
This airplane was first built only 35 years after the Wright brothers made their famous first flight. Just thinking of that makes me feel very old.
The engine did not have an electric starter; as you were priming the engine from the cockpit, someone else on the ground would grab hold of the propeller and hurl it with might until the engine would run on its own. Each engine start was a moment of excitement and bravery.
Once the plane was airborne, it became clear the Piper Cub was not built for speed. As a matter of fact, when there was a strong headwind, it seemed as though we were not moving at all. I remember flying together with my teenage son, Guido, above the autobahn in Germany, and sure enough, the cars below passed us comfortably!
But, oh, how I loved this little plane! It was the perfect way to experience the wonder and beauty of flight. You could hear, feel, smell, taste, and see what flying was all about. The Wright brothers expressed it this way: “There is [nothing] equal to that which aviators enjoy while being carried through the air on great white wings.”1
In contrast, earlier this year I had the privilege to fly in a sophisticated F-18 fighter jet with the world-famous Blue Angels, the United States Navy’s flight demonstration team. It was like taking a flight above and along memory lane because exactly 50 years before, almost to the day, I had completed my training as an air force fighter pilot.
The F-18 flight experience, of course, was totally different from the one in the Piper Cub. It showed me a more dynamic beauty of flying. It was like applying the existing laws of aerodynamics in a more perfect way. However, flying with the Blue Angels also quickly reminded me that being a jet fighter pilot is a young man’s game. To quote the Wright brothers again, “More than anything else the sensation [of flying] is one of perfect peace, mingled with an excitement that strains every nerve to the utmost.”2 In addition, flying with the Blue Angels suggested a totally different way of having “angels” round about you and bearing you up.

A story from the National Baseball Hall of Fame may illustrate how a clearer vision gives us an edge in the fight for right. A generation ago, Ted Williams was a household name in America. The veteran slugger for the Boston Red Sox proved his talent, integrity, and commitment year after year. In 1941, after only three years in the majors, Ted was hitting an incredible .39955 entering the last day of the season. Few hitters have ever come near to batting .400 in a season. Ted’s manager, the legendary Joe Cronin, offered to bench him for the last day of the season so that his average would round up to .400, knowing that if he had a bad day he would miss the mark altogether.
Not a chance, Ted replied. If he couldn’t hit .400 all the way, he said he didn’t deserve it. So he played.
Williams got six hits in eight times at bat during a doubleheader on that last day and ended the season with a .406 batting average. That record still stands. During a career that spanned 22 years, interrupted by 5 years of service as a military pilot in two wars, Ted averaged .344 at bat and hit 521 home runs. Even in his last season, at the age of 42, Ted hit .316, an exceptional average for most baseball players.
Ted Williams’s secret was his keen eyesight. After the pitcher threw the ball, Ted could see the stitching on the ball and could tell by the direction the ball was spinning whether it was a curve, slider, knuckleball, or fastball.
Do not suppose that Ted Williams relied upon his exceptional vision alone. He was known as the hardest worker in the major leagues. He combined personal integrity and tireless preparation with his love of the game to become one of the greatest players ever.

About a month before the earthquake, the Relief Society had shown a film to the ward about the 1971 San Fernando earthquake. As a result of that film, many families had taken their own precautions.
James and Shirley Sirman had prepared small emergency backpacks for their whole family. The packs contained identification cards (in case the children got separated), a three-day supply of food, a change of clothing, flashlights, water purification tablets, and other emergency supplies. Although their children are young (ages 3 through 9), they knew the places in their house that are safest in an earthquake, and they knew where in the yard to meet after the quake.
The Fowkes family had been having emergency drills during family home evenings for several years. This training helped them instinctively do the right things when the quake hit. Nathan, 13, who was studying in the library, immediately dove under a table that protected him from being hit by a tall cabinet of books. His younger brother and sister ducked under the kitchen table at home and missed being hit by falling china. just three weeks before the quake, Sister Fowkes had shown her son Kendall, 9, how to turn off the gas, electricity, and water in the house, so he could earn a Cub Scout achievement. This knowledge saved the family from a flooded basement, since the quake caused a water pipe to break.
Ten years earlier the Fowkes had made some other preparations. Following two consecutive dreams about being in an earthquake, Sister Fowkes insisted that her husband string wire in front of the shelves in their fruit room before they left on vacation. Eventually their foresight paid off. While they had over 200 bottles stacked seven shelves high, none were broken.

Some of my friends in school use Heavenly Father’s name in vain. It had always bothered me, but now I thought about it even more. I wondered what I could do about it. I wanted my friends to know that Heavenly Father is special. I decided to ask my mom and dad about it. I wanted to say something to my friends, but I was afraid that they would be mad at me and not play with me anymore. My parents told me two stories that helped a lot.
After hearing that, I decided I would try to be like those I had heard about and stand up for the right. The next day at school when I heard one of my friends say something bad, I asked him not to say it anymore. I was still afraid, but it turned out OK. He agreed and is still my friend. I felt good inside because I had done the right thing, just like Jesus always did.

My mother, Stella Oaks, died before any of our grandchildren were born. So Sister Oaks and I had a “Stella party” to help them learn about her. I also wrote a book about her and about my father. You can learn more about your ancestors too. This will give you strength and direction for your life.

President and Sister Oaks had a “Stella party” to help their grandchildren get to know their great-grandmother Stella Oaks. Here are some things they did.
They decorated with Great-Grandmother Stella’s favorite color—yellow!
Everyone wore a hat, like she always did.
They looked at pictures and heard stories about her.

I was with President Lee on one occasion in New York City, where he had an interview with George Cornell, the senior writer of religion for the Associated Press. As we sat there, George Cornell said to President Lee, “I’d like to talk to you about some of the controversial aspects of your Church.”

As he mentioned one or two of them, Brother Lee said, “George, your readers do not want to hear about that. What your readers want to hear about is the great welfare program of the Church and the outstanding education program of the Church.” Mr. Cornell began to take notes, and as a result an almost full-page story from the Associated Press described our educational effort and our welfare program. No mention whatsoever was made of the controversial subjects of that time. This was the persuasive ability of Harold B. Lee.

Story number two:
“When I got married,” says Consolación Pilobello of Pasay City, “I didn’t know how to cook, and I was too superstitious to go to a doctor and get prenatal care. Our first baby died.”

She begins to cry. “If only I had been a member of the Church then, we could have saved that baby!”

After baptism, she learned in Relief Society about water purification, sanitation, nutrition, first aid, and immunizations. “I learned how to take care of my children, myself, and my family,” she says. Her next seven babies were healthy. [pp. 11–12]

The youngest of those babies now serves as a full-time missionary in the Philippines Baguio Mission, which I recently toured before returning to America.

Let us trust in our leaders. Trust in our leaders can be lost very easily. In fact, let me illustrate how easily it can be lost with another situation. There was a young man with whom I grew up in a Mormon community. He was active the same way I was. His parents were active and strong, but there was a situation that developed in that home. After every Church meeting on the way home and at home in that little farming community, the parents played one of their favorite indoor games:
He would say, “Honey, did you notice that the bishop made a mistake? He had to be corrected by his counselor in that announcement.”
And he would say, “Yes, and did you notice that the Sunday School superintendent made a mistake and announced the wrong hymn?”
And she would say, “Yes, and did you notice that the Sunday School teacher could have used better scriptures, and also got a little bit off the subject?”
Then she would say, “Did you notice so-and-so’s hat?”
In the process they diminished the efforts of the people who were there. It didn’t affect them. He went on to be called into the stake presidency. In fact, after that, I don’t think they commented very much about other people’s personal failings and weaknesses because they were then on the other side of the line. They later became temple workers. But that son—hearing the human frailties of the leaders—when he went into the service, when he continued his life, strayed far from the paths of the Church because he had not developed a full trust and respect for the leaders of the Church in spite of their human frailties.

Like many of you, I have shared the gospel with some who are soon baptized or activated, and others—such as my nonmember friend Tim and his less-active wife, Charlene—take much more time.
For over 25 years I engaged Tim in gospel conversations and took Tim and Charlene to temple open houses. Others joined the rescue; however, Tim declined each invitation made to meet with the missionaries.
One weekend I was assigned to preside at a stake conference. I had asked the stake president to fast and pray about whom we should visit. I was shocked when he handed me the name of my friend Tim. When Tim’s bishop, the stake president, and I knocked on the door, Tim opened it, looked at me, looked at the bishop, and then said, “Bishop, I thought you told me you were going to bring somebody special!”
Then Tim laughed and said, “Come on in, Merv.” A miracle occurred that day. Tim has now been baptized, and he and Charlene have been sealed in the temple. We must never give up.

Shortly after my baptism in August 1984, I heard about a fun activity with music and barbeque not far from where I lived in Kwekwe, Zimbabwe. My friends and I were excited to go, but it was on Sunday. My friends were not members of the Church.
I told them, “I’ll go to church but sneak out after sacrament meeting and join you.”
My friends, who knew my weakness, said, “If you do that you will miss out. By the time you come, the barbecue will be over.”
I had a decision to make. Do I go to church or the barbecue? I chose the barbecue but found out Sunday morning that it had been canceled. By that time, it was too late to go to church, so I just stayed in my little rented room.
Early that afternoon, I heard a voice: “Does Eddie Dube live here?”
It was my branch president, John Newbold, with his wife, Jean. I wanted to hide under my bed! But before I could do anything, they stood by the curtain that separated my room from the rest of the house.
“Oh, Eddie,” they said, “we missed you at church today.”
We talked a while, and after they left, their kind words, “Eddie, we missed you,” continued to go through my mind. I am grateful for John and Jean Newbold. Since that day, I have been blessed because they helped me see, in a personal way, our Savior Jesus Christ’s love and concern for the one.
To this day, I am still in touch with John and Jean Newbold. Over all these years, I feel joy because of the love they extended to me. And they have felt joy in seeing me progress in the gospel. This is what can happen when we minister—we and those we serve become closer to one another and more connected with the Savior.

Then we have here a sister who tells about her experience. Her husband passed away, and then she writes, “After the funeral services were over, I took my five children and went home, and was left to sink or swim. And I sank; I was all alone. How was I going to look after those five children? Oh, sure, the bishop would see that I didn’t go hungry and that we were taken care of, and we had enough food to eat, and so on, but we needed something more than that.”
And then she said this, “I need Special Interests because I need to know that there are other people in the world with feelings like mine. I need to meet other widows who have managed to raise their children alone successfully, without the hang-ups psychologists insist they will have. I need to know that some people’s problems are worse than mine, so I can recognize and count my blessings. I need people to talk to who fully understand my problems and needs. I need Special Interests because I have to learn how to handle my own problems. The first thing I learned as a widow was that no one else will help except in emergencies, and sometimes not then. As soon as the funeral was over, I repeat, I was left on my own either to sink or swim.
“Then,” she said, “your classes geared to the whole families don’t help us a bit, but a class I took this fall with the Special Interests showed me how I can communicate with my family and friends. There is no way you can fully understand our needs or problems, except you go through it yourself. Do you know what it is like to lose your wife or husband in death? It is nothing like losing your father or even your daughter. I know; I lost both before I lost my husband. Do you know what it is like to go through the hell of a divorce? Do you know what it is like to be a girl over 26, and still be single? You can’t know. We need each other. Some of us need small group activities. Some of us need large group activities where we can go and have to talk to people and visit. Sometimes we don’t feel like talking. Special Interests is not a dating bureau or a marriage bureau. As such it would be a complete failure. There are women in our stake who like to go places, but not alone. They come to our small activities hoping to meet other women with similar interests to go places with. One lady buys a season pass to the symphony every year, and she is still looking for someone to go with her.
“We resent being invited to the Young Marrieds activities. To me it is like a slap in the face to have the Young Marrieds or elders announce that Special Interests are invited to their party. I know you may not understand why I feel so strongly about it, but other Special Interests I have talked to understand, and most of the others feel the same way. I feel like this new Special Interest program is inspired of God. It is what we need, if it is done like it should be. I needed it eight-and-a-half years ago. Thank the Lord my president is working hard on it to do his part. Will you recognize us as a special group of people, long ignored and neglected with special problems and special needs and special interests? Some of us are raising special children, boys without fathers, girls without mothers. They have special problems and special needs. If our needs aren’t met, you are also neglecting some of their needs.”

I was born into the family of Mr. and Mrs. Gabriel Mamody Oyegwa of Ojantelle in Apa local government of Benue state. I usually attended the Methodist church but because of my zeal for Jesus Christ, I would often fellowship with numerous churches. However, there were some encounters that led me to decide not to take my children to church anymore. For a year we were home praying on our own. I told God that I wouldn’t go to any church until He showed me the one I should go to. I didn’t know how He would show me but that’s how I felt.
One day, I was coming from a neighboring household and saw two young men that were nicely dressed, clean and had tags on their shirts talking to my daughter Habiba and her friend. I shouted to them from a distance and asked them “What have I done to you that you gave them a Bible and you didn’t give me one or speak with me?” These two elders were Elder Ohenhe and Elder Okoko from the Nigeria Enugu Mission. They joyfully told me “Mama, we are here because of you”.
They took their time teaching me and never seemed to mind the uncomfortable state of my house. They asked me to pray about what they shared and left a Book of Mormon with me. I was instructed to read the introduction, which I did with much eagerness. I had two questions that I wanted to know the answers to. The first had to do with my ancestors and the second was about marriage. The answers they gave me brought me hope.
Before they came back again, I took the time to speak with my children who were all as eager as I was to hear more. All except one. He told me “Mummy, never open that Book of Mormon or else you will die”.
I asked him why he thought that. He told me that the leaders of other churches had told him it was an evil book and that the day that someone opens that book, they will die. I reminded him what we had decided before about staying at home and not going to church for a year. I suggested to him that perhaps the missionaries coming to us now is an answer to prayer.
He did not agree and did not want to see the missionaries. I then told him that I had read the Book of Mormon. He was shocked and still didn’t want anything to do with the missionaries or the Church. The other children and I kept praying for him with the love the missionaries showed us by helping us with our domestic work, not minding if we are poor nor rich. One day, his younger brother said to him, “Brother, let’s read this book and die for mummy”.
I told them that they wouldn’t die because I didn’t die. They decided to read it privately. Now, that son is fully prepared for a mission. He loved the missionaries more than I did and would go proselyting with them and served as a district clerk. My family has all been baptized.
Introducing the gospel to my father was important to me. He attended another church and was an elder in that church but had been denied baptism because he was married three times. My mother was the first wife. He visited us and I told him about the missionaries. He did not think there could be truth anywhere else but in his Methodist church. As he learned more about the Church, he decided to be baptized. He had been sick off and on for a while. After he was baptized, he felt better and went home.
My hope was that he would stay strong in the Church. Every Sunday he would sit with the Book of Mormon and sing hymns. He especially liked hymns 44 and 45— “Beautiful Zion, Built Above” and “Lead Me into Life Eternal.” Some of his family members deserted him because of the truth that he embraced. They said that I took him from the family church. He told them that God brought the Church to him for his sake. He was given a blessing by President Albert Mutariswa, of the Nigeria Enugu Mission.
A branch was established in Ojantell and my father gave his own house to be used for the Church and there were many baptisms because of that. Before his death, he said that the Church would have access to his house for meetings until they no longer needed it. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints gave him a befitting burial. I plan to go to the temple and do the baptism for my mom and seal them together with his children.
My goal is to share the gospel with the help of the missionaries all over the Apa and Aguati local government area. The love the missionaries showed us made such a difference in our family. We were able to accept this truth for ourselves. I know that the Book of Mormon is another testament of Jesus Christ. God loves us and so we ought to love others by doing the needful, especially teaching about the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. I know God will perfect what He started. I know that this testimony is true, and the love of the restored gospel binds us with all brethren all over the world.

I joined the Church when I was 13 years old. I had a testimony of the gospel, yet I had a nagging feeling that I didn’t quite fit in at church. Everyone else knew the songs and the scripture stories; I didn’t. Everyone else had memories of Primary activities or family home evening lessons; I’d never done either of those things.
But beyond that, everyone seemed to have the same interests and opinions—sometimes very strong opinions that were the opposite of mine—about everything from movies and politics to the interpretation of certain scriptures. I would look around at all of the nodding heads and think, “You’re nice people and I am a nice person. But we are just too different. I don’t belong here.”
I struggled with those feelings for several years. Then I recalled and reread the story from Luke 19 about Zacchaeus. Because he was a publican, he was unpopular and considered a sinner. But when Jesus passed through his city, Zacchaeus climbed a tree to see over the crowd. He didn’t care what others thought of him. It was this act of climbing the tree—separating himself from the crowd—that enabled him to have a very beautiful and personal experience with the Savior. As I read, I recognized that my feelings of being an outsider were not coming from Christ. Jesus was inclusive and forgiving. He actively sought those who were judged and cast aside—those who seemed different.
I can’t say I’ve never felt out of place again. I have. But I’ve learned that the things that make me different—the way I look, the way others look at me, the things I’m passionate about, the way I think about the world—these are not reasons to fall away. These are the reasons the Church needs all of us, with all our different talents, strengths, and perspectives.
Elaine Vickers lives in Utah, USA.

All through school, I had had the same group of friends. But one year, a new student started at our school, and unlike me, he was popular. But I still somehow became his friend. In the months following, we became closer until we were best friends.
I was in the habit of going to seminary immediately after school. One day he asked me where I went every day. I decided to explain all about the Church, but from the look on his face, I realized this wasn’t the best way to talk to him. So I stopped talking so insistently.
A few months later the elders were coming over to my house at the same time some friends and I were meeting there to do homework. This friend was one of them, so I asked the elders to talk a little about the Church. He was interested in what they were saying. He realized that some things in my life were different from what he and other friends were doing, and he wanted to find out why. He started coming to church, Mutual, and seminary, and he saw that all my Church friends were like me, with the same principles. Soon he decided to be baptized.
At his baptism, the bishop asked him to bear his testimony. He stood and said: “I am here today thanks to a friend and how different he was from other people. I hope that everyone will see the differences in all of you too.”

When the two FBI special agents spotted Illinois license plate number 639-578, they began a chase that ended in a rapid thunder of gunfire, leaving them bullet-ridden with their targets fleeing in their government car. A nearby observer rushed to aid one of the wounded agents who whispered, “I’m a Federal officer. Help me, but take care of my partner first.”
Hours later both were dead.
The following day “Public Enemy Number 1” was also.
Nelson was next.
In April the 25-year old prison escapee had shot and killed an FBI agent, an act that put a $5,000 price tag on his head. He had devoted over half his life to crime and joined ranks with Dillinger in terrorizing the country.
It took Sam nearly six months to corner Nelson. Actually, it was two agents he had pulled off other cases to assist in the manhunt who first spotted Nelson, his wife, and a cohort in crime, John Paul Chase, as the three headed south on a highway near Fox River Grove, Illinois. The two turned to follow Nelson, who immediately spun his car around and began chasing the agents. Armed with only their service revolvers, the officers were no match for Nelson, who opened fire with a high-powered automatic rifle. The agents were forced to step on the gas and draw away. But one of their shots had found its mark on the gangster’s radiator, causing it to overheat and slow up.
Samuel Cowley hadn’t expected to find “Baby Face” Nelson under such conditions, but he immediately recognized the cars of both Nelson and the agents. Sam swung his car around to follow Nelson, who drove off the highway onto a side road. Both cars stopped. His car failing, Nelson was forced to shoot it out with the agents head on. Nelson and Chase took cover behind the stalled car; Nelson’s wife threw herself into a nearby ditch for protection.
Accompanying Sam was Special Agent H. E. Hollis, who unloaded ten shotgun cartridges before collapsing under fire. Sam discharged 50 shells from his machine gun before falling. Nelson, his wife, and Chase fled in the agents’ car.
Hollis was dead. Sam was taken to a nearby hospital where he required surgery, which he refused until he was able to meet with his boss, Melvin H. Purvis, head of the Chicago bureau of the department.
“Did you get Purvis? I must talk to Purvis before I die.”
Sam identified Nelson and the woman he believed to be his wife. He told Purvis he did not know the identity of the other man.
The following day the body of Nelson, with 17 bullets in it, was found abandoned in a roadside ditch. His wife was taken into custody two days later. Chase was picked up the following month.

One priesthood bearer remembered as a young boy a meeting at his home in which Eliza R. Snow, Zina D. Young, Clara Kimball, and other leaders of the Relief Society were present. While he was playing on the floor, he heard Sister Snow, by the gift of tongues, and Zina D. Young, by interpretation, promise that he should grow to manhood and become an apostle of the Lord. The man recalling the incident was President Heber J. Grant.

Sabrina, age 18, remembers the sister missionaries coming to home evening when she was 10. “They taught me simply but firmly that God reveals truth through prayer,” she says. “They said I needed to kneel down and ask Heavenly Father in humility to give me a testimony. ‘Me kneel down?’ I thought to myself. A few days later, Mom wanted to go for a walk with my sisters and me. Even though the sun was shining and I wanted to go with them, something stopped me. I knew it was the perfect time to pray. I knelt down in the dining room. I pleaded with Heavenly Father to let me know if the Book of Mormon was true. I asked Him if the principles I was taught in church were true. Five minutes went by. After I ended my prayer I remained on my knees. Suddenly a ray of light illuminated my face. I could not understand this, because the house was dark. But there was a small window in the kitchen without a curtain, and the light was coming from there.

“I felt so happy. I realized my Father had answered my prayer in this way. Now I have a testimony of all these things, and I know they are true. I know prayer has tremendous power.”

In Paris he was called as a regional representative. Annie reflects on one experience they shared during those years: “My husband often had to be away all weekend to participate in stake conferences. One conference Saturday the alarm clock rang very early. Half asleep, I became aware of Gerard’s presence at the edge of the bed as he knelt to pray. He stood up and asked how I was feeling. I told him I felt fine. After a moment, he came back to ask about my plans for the day. He kept questioning me and even asked if I would like him to postpone his departure. Puzzled and completely awake by then, I decided to get up. When I got out of bed, I was overcome with dizziness and could not stand. My husband delayed leaving for a few hours until I had recovered. I’ve always appreciated his sensitivity to the whisperings of the Holy Ghost.”