[WillowTheWhisp]

Well one of the best ones was when the LDS chapel was being built in Rawtenstall. Most of the work was done by the local members in those days. (late fifties/early sixties) supervised by "building missionaries" (people who knew what they were doing and were there on a voluntary basis to supervise proceedings).

The ground had all been dug and levelled and what have you ready for the foundations and they needed ready mixed concrete. They rang up local firms but non of them could supply any that day which meant the work ground to a halt. Now you have to remember that people were doing this in their spare time so Saturday was the only really good day to get all the concrete down.

So they prayed about it and gradually they started to get phone calls from concrete people asking if they still wanted the ready mix. It had started to rain in the valley and other people had begun cancelling their orders at the last minute. In the area round where they were building (near the college) it was fine. Concrete was delivered and poured. They got all the concrete they needed and got all the covers over and weighted down and just as they were leaving the site the first drops of rain fell.

OK not earth shattering or life saving but pretty dramatic at the time nontheless.


Another occasion was quite personal when an elderly friend of ours was in hospital and we'd been to visit her. We had not long been back in Accy and going to Asda to do a bit of shopping when Peter (my late husband) suddenly got the feeling we should go back to the hospital. It may seem silly but I'd learned to follow his instinct on things like that. When we got there the door to her side ward was open and she looked up with a beaming smile on her face and said "I knew someone would come!" She'd just been told they were re-scheduling her operation (a leg amputation) for that afternoon and she was naturally worried about the outcome and had prayed for someone from church to come and give her a blessing before going down to theatre.

I had a good one when I was doing some family history research and got really stuck with a place of registration which we thought was in Suffolk on account of my Grandad had always claimed his family came from Suffolk. I'd tried to find it and I'd prayed about finding it. It wasn't in any Gazeteer and the nice man at the register office couldn't understand it. He thought it was me not looking properly so he had a look in his books - it wasn't there. In a slightly exaggerated pretend huff he flung the book down on the desk and it fell open in the middle of Norfolk - King's Lynn to be precise and there was the registration place - a sub-district of King's Lynn!