August 2006 Ensign - The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

that appeared almost inoperable, but
doctors insisted that without an operation
Betsy had no chance of survival.
My heart ached for Sara. Along
with the rest of our ward and stake,
we had fasted and prayed for a miracle.
Betsy underwent brain surgery
and amazed the doctors, who had
not expected her to survive the operation.
Still, only part of the tumor had
been removed, and Betsy progressed
slowly. Her parents, meanwhile, faced
impossible decisions on how to treat
the remaining tumor without
destroying her infant body.
The operation had taken place in
Indianapolis, the halfway point in my
journey to Louisville. Sara was still
there with Betsy, while her husband
had returned to South Bend to take
the final exams he had missed.
I checked my watch. I could think
of plenty of reasons to drive through
LATTER-DAY SAINT VOICES
without stopping, but none of them
did anything to silence the voice
inside telling me I needed to stop. So
I pulled off the freeway and called the
hospital from a pay phone. My call
was directed to Betsy’s room, and
Sara answered. I could hear in her
voice that she was happy I had called.
She would be thrilled to have me stop
by. I felt the peace and relief of having
followed the Spirit’s prompting.
As I drove toward the hospital
I realized I had my violin wedged
between a suitcase and a box of
books in the backseat. With a measure
of guilt I remembered that I had
not touched it in weeks, even though
I had studied violin from the age of
three. Music had always been a
source of happiness in my life.
The thought came that I should
take my violin with me and play for
Betsy. Normally I would never have
considered the idea. It seemed a
little arrogant to arrive unannounced
with my violin and subject all those
within listening range to an impromptu
recital. But I quickly recognized
the feeling that accompanied
this thought as the same Spirit that
had prompted me to make the visit.
When I arrived, Sara was weary but
happy to see me. Betsy had a large
tube in her head and another in her
throat. As I looked at her tiny body
and then into her eyes, I wondered
how much
For more
than an
hour I
played hymns,
Primary songs, and
classical music.
As I played, Betsy
stared at me
wide-eyed.