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Daughters of God
I have just read your letter. I will not delay writing, for perhaps a
few lines may relieve your mind.
My husband died in Battle Creek in 1881. For a year I could not
endure the thought that I was alone. My husband and I had stood
side by side in our ministerial work, and for a year after his death I
could not endure the thought that I was left alone, alone, to carry the
responsibilities that in the past he and I had carried together. During
the year, I did not recover, but came near dying. But I will not dwell
upon this.
While my husband was lying in his coffin, our good brethren came
to me and urged that we pray that he be raised to life. I told them, No,
no. While living, he had done the work that should have been shared
by two or three men, and now he was at rest. Why call him back to life
to endure again that through which he has passed? “Blessed are the
dead which die in the Lord from henceforth; Yea, saith the Spirit, that
they may rest from their labours; and their works do follow them.”
The year that followed my husband’s death was filled with suffering
for me. I did not think I could live, I became so weak. The idea came
to members of my family that there would be a spark of hope for me
if I could be induced to attend the camp meeting in Healdsburg. This
meeting was to be held in a grove about half a mile from my home in
Healdsburg. They hoped that on the campground God would reveal
to me distinctly that I was to live. There was at the time no color in
my face, but a deadly paleness. They took me to the campground one
Sunday in an easy carriage. That day the large tent was full. It seemed
as if nearly all Healdsburg was present.
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A lounge was placed on the broad platform that served as a pulpit,
and on it I was made as comfortable as possible. During the meeting,
I said to my son, W. C. White, “Will you help me up, and assist me to
stand on my feet while I say a few words?” He said that he would, and
I got up. For five minutes I stood there, trying to speak, and thinking
that it was the last speech I should ever make—my farewell message.
All at once I felt a power come upon me, like a shock of electricity.
It passed through my body and up to my head. The people said that
they plainly saw the blood mounting to my lips, my ears, my cheeks,
my forehead. Before that large number of people I was healed, and the
praise of God was in my heart and came from my lips in clear tones.
A miracle was wrought before that large congregation.