I don’t remember how old I was when I got really sick. So sick that they thought I was going to die. Mom took me to a whole bunch of different doctors, and nobody could figure out what was wrong with me. I remember pulling into the garage with mom one night. She turned off the van, and just started crying. I looked at her and thought, “Gee, this must really be bad. Am I really going to die?” I got so sick that I could no longer walk. Spence and Tenille would pull me around the house in our little red Radio Flyer wagon. When Dad saw the wagon in the house he get pretty mad, though. So I either had to crawl or be carried. One night our home teacher and bishop (Bishop Bateman) came over and he and Dad gave me a blessing. Immediately after the blessing I stood up, and I could walk! And for the first time in a really long time, I was hungry. And I gulfed down plain white rice (normally I needed ketchup on it, but it tasted so good the way it was). It really was a miracle. To this day we still don’t know what I had. They thought it could have been scarlet fever, but nothing’s for sure.
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