Just as I awakened that weekday morning, the oddest thing happened. I saw a clear vision of a woman’s face. Snow white hair. A gentle smile. Sparkling blue eyes. I sat straight up in bed. I’d seen that woman before. Beverly Dotson. I’d been praying for God to send me someone I could love and care for—someone to marry. Was this her?
I believed in answered prayer, and I’d always been a romantic, perhaps because I was born on Valentine’s Day. But as a retired math teacher, I was of two minds. I was 86 years old. Was falling in love again realistic at my age?
First of all, I didn’t actually know Beverly Dotson. We went to the same church, a congregation of about 500 members in the
