Mother’s prayers

My husband had been raised Catholic. His mother was devout but his father was agnostic. My husband started drinking alcohol as an altar boy. In college he joined a fraternity, TKE. He drank so often that he was kicked out of college.

He was working and living with a roommate in central Pennsylvania when two sister missionaries came to the door. He said they were a blonde and a brunette; he told the missionaries they could come in and talk about whatever they wanted to talk about. For some time his roommate listened to their teaching. My man sat back and listened, in his fun-loving, joking and making light way. But when his roommate told them not to return, my man told them he felt something; he wanted to know more. He met church members who welcomed him into their home to be taught. He read the Book of Mormon and prayed about it. He felt that it was true. He said it scared him to death, because he would have to change. With God’s help, he stopped drinking. He was baptized.

Soon after his baptism, a friend pulled him aside and said, “You need to go west. If you stay here, your buddies will return and you will be tempted to drink with them.” So he packed his army duffel and took a Greyhound bus to Idaho. He felt that his mother’s prayers had led to this change. He thanked God for her.