The Wrong Room at the Right Time

Hide Footnotes


“The Wrong Room at the Right Time,” Ensign, Apr. 1999, 22

The Wrong Room at the Right Time

The two men weren’t intending to see my husband, but their visit changed everything.

Not much good had come as yet from my husband’s surgery. Although the procedure itself had gone well, nausea and vomiting had set in, making Glenn feel quite uncomfortable.

The surgery had been performed on Wednesday. It was now Sunday, and still Glenn was ill. As I sat at his bedside, I felt as if a dark, persistent cloud of despair hung about his hospital room.

Voices were heard in the hall, and two men opened the door ever so slightly and peered hesitantly into the room. Glenn recognized one of the men as an acquaintance from work and bid them both to come in. Meanwhile, questions raced through his mind: Why has he come to see me? We barely know each other. How did he know I was in the hospital? Who is this with him?

While they were conversing, my gaze fell upon the trays of bread and water the men held in their hands. My husband, lying flat in bed, could not see what they were carrying. Their conversation continued.

Not wanting to interrupt but feeling I must, I quietly asked, “Are you going around passing the sacrament or something?”

“As a matter of fact, we are,” one of the men smiled. “We were looking for someone from our ward, and we thought he would be here. Guess we got the wrong room, though.”

As if he had just discovered gold, my husband gasped: “Oh! Are you really passing the sacrament? If you are, could you please pass it to me? I really could use it right now.”

“Certainly,” came the reply. “We’d be glad to.”

An opening prayer was offered, the sacrament prayers were said, and the sacrament was passed to my teary-eyed husband and me.

As we partook of the sacrament in the moments that followed, the dark cloud seemed to retreat and the room felt bathed in a warm cloak of peace and serenity. My husband and I will not soon forget that wonderful, uplifting feeling.

Afterward the two men shook our hands and left the room amid our “thank you’s.” Glenn continued to improve, and the following Tuesday he was able to return home.

The wrong room? I don’t think so. Those two men brought just what we needed at just the right time.

Illustrated by Nathan Florence