I was born two weeks early. Back in the 1970s, before many of the modern technologies hospitals have now to help premies, that was a big deal. My mother told me I came out so fast, the doctor barely had time to get his gloves on to catch me. It was determined that something was wrong with me and so tests were performed and it came as no surprise that my parents, especially my mother, were worried. My father immediately called my grandpa to come and help him give me a priesthood blessing. When they arrived at the hospitals nursery where I was, the nurses wouldn’t allow my grandpa and father inside for safety reasons regarding the other babies there. But they did permit them to take me out into the hall, just outside of the nursery. My grandpa said I was so small, he could hold me in the palm of his hand. So in that cold, empty hospital hallway, with the priesthood they held, my father and grandfather gave me a blessing of healing.

The next morning, when all the test results came back, everything was negative. I was healthy and able to go home that day. My mother firmly believes it was because of the blessing I was given that I was healed.

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