I Had My Wealth

A few years ago I had an experience that I was reminded of when I read my journal recently. At the time, I was living in Morgantown while Matt was in dental school and I was pregnant. I was among about 16 girls in our ward who were pregnant at the time. Many of us shared the same doctor, a wonderful man who was not a member of our church.

One day, while I was reading my Ensign, I felt a gentle prompting to share the gospel with my doctor. As I began to think more and more about it, the prompting grew to a strong feeling of what I should do. My mind opened up to a scene where I was sitting in the doctor's office holding my Ensign in my hand. The doctor would walk in, ask what I was reading and we would share a conversation about my faith. I resolved to take my Ensign with me to my doctor's appointment, which I had that very afternoon. As I considered further what I might say, I wished I had some enticement to invite the doctor to church. In fact, what I most wished was that I was giving a talk in church that Sunday so I could invite him to come and hear me speak.

Just as this thought process was happening, my phone rang. It was a dear friend, Holly Ashby, who was also pregnant and shared this particular doctor. Her call was unrelated to the issue, and upon hanging up, I regretted not mentioning the prompting to her. I was just pondering calling her back, when the phone rang again. Holly. I quickly told Holly everything that had been running through my head over the past few minutes. I concluded by telling her that I wished I was giving a talk on Sunday so I could invite our doctor to hear me speak.

"But I'm giving a talk on Sunday!" Holly and I were both very excited by now. I promised to invite our doctor to come and hear her speak when I went to my appointment that afternoon.

Armed with my trusty Ensign, I headed to my doctor's appointment. And, just like the scene in my head, everything played out how I had imagined. I was reading my Ensign, he asked what it was, we talked about my faith. And then I said, "Holly Ashby is actually speaking in church this Sunday. Would you like to come and hear her speak?"

And he said no thanks. That's it. End of story.

Well, not exactly the end of the story. When I got home that evening I spent a lot of time thinking about it. Was I crazy? Did I not understand how to recognize promptings from the spirit? Did I make it up in my head? And then the gentle voice of the spirit again.

I spoke to you.

I am so grateful to have a loving Heavenly Father who communicates with me. Surely, he knew how that story would end. It wasn't about my doctor that day. It was about me. He spoke to me. What a rare and precious gift! It reminds me of a poem my Grandpa Emery wrote:

Life # 1

The mountain stood like a desert crown,
Green and red, then yellow brown.

With thirst cracked lips and blistered face,
I searched for water at its base.

But when I could stand no more,
I raised my arms, God did implore.

Through desert wind and summer heat,
He told me, “Dan, dig at your feet.”

I dug down and found a pool,
Drank my fill of water cool.

Then I saw beneath my hand,
Yellow nuggets in the sand.

But one, I put them back the same.
I had my wealth, he knew my name.


Dan D. Emery
Idaho Southwest 1947

I'm grateful to know that Heavenly Father knows my name. My Grandpa's right, that's all the wealth any of us really needs.