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My Adventure with God

David and Patty Hazen

David A. Hazen

My father was my hero! He had a quiet confidence that if he died he would go to Heaven. I always thought that if I could be as good as my dad, I would make it too. But even though I attended church with my dad and mom every Sunday, I really didn‟t understand what the pastor was saying. Not only that, I had trouble with my brother, and I couldn‟t control my thought life. I also feared death because I wasn‟t sure I would go to Heaven if I died. Not only was I unsure about where I was going, I really didn‟t know why I was here.

During my early teens, I attended a youth camp where I heard a speaker paint an awesome picture of the sufferings of Jesus Christ on the cross and that He died for me. I believed it!

Later, I realized that I was beginning to understand some of the things our pastor was saying. The Bible took on a new meaning to me. I got along better with my brother, and I began thinking about what I would do with my life. But one of the best things that happened to me was the knowledge that if I were to die, I would go to Heaven just like my dad. My dad has been in Heaven since May 2, 1970, and I know that when I die I‟ll see him again.

While I was growing up in The Dalles, Oregon, God gave me a Christian buddy, Donovan McVicker, whose birthday was December 2,1924. We had decided that after graduation from high school we would study to be osteopathic doctors. Don‟s father was an Osteopath. That summer after graduation (June 1943), however, each of us received a very gracious invitation from the president of the United States, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, to become members of his World War II armed services. We thought he was so considerate that we decided to take him up on his offer. Actually, we were drafted and I thought my world had come to an end! How was I ever going to become a doctor?

Don chose the Army because they gave him three weeks to complete his summer semester at Willamette University in Salem, Oregon. I chose the Seabees, a branch of the Navy, because they had blue uniforms (my favorite color) and I had heard that they fed a person well!

I was shipped on a troop train along with 200 other recruits from the Northwest to Williamsburg, Virginia for boot camp training. But I missed Don something awful. I began praying that God would give me a Christian buddy. One day I noticed a young fellow seated at a table in the middle of the barracks and he
was reading a Bible. I asked him if he was a Christian and he said,“Yes, are you?” I replied, “I sure am!” That day I got acquainted with Bob Griffin from Birmingham, Michigan. His birthday was December 2, 1924, the same as Don‟s. Amazing!

We were in a group of about 1,000 men. We were informed that they were going to divide the group into four maintenance units of 250 men each and that two units were going to the South Pacific and two units were going to the European Theater of War. We began praying that we would be in the same unit. We hadn‟t met another Christian among all of those men. When the orders were posted on the bulletin board, Griffin and Hazen were on the same list. And,because we were alphabetically listed near each other, we were bunked near each other for the duration of the war, two and a half years. We were the only Christians in our outfit.

Eventually we were shipped to Morocco, North Africa, in January 1944, to maintain a naval airbase in Port Lyautey, now known as Kenitra. Our U.S. troops had departed North Africa a few months earlier on their way to Germany by way of Sicily and Italy.

It wasn‟t long before Bob and I got together with eight other Christian fellows on the base for Bible reading and prayer each evening. That group grew to about thirty fellows. One of the men, Lt. Bob Hawley, contacted me one day and invited me to accompany him to visit a missionary, Emmagene Coats, and her colleague, Ellen Doran, ninety miles inland. He had received a telegram from Emmagene‟s mother informing Emmagene that her father had died. The only way that she could receive the sad news was to take the telegram to her personally.

On the way, I began thinking about missionaries. I had only met one missionary in my life. I was certain that only old people were missionaries. And when she read the telegram she would cry, and I hated to see women cry. I knew that she would be very thin, because anyone who lived by faith was always hungry. All these thoughts were going through my mind when we finally arrived at our destination. Bob knocked on the door, and two young ladies opened it. They weren‟t too big or too little, they were just right. I was impressed that they were so radiant. I had never seen women as radiant as they were. Then Bob handed the telegram to Emmagene. Tears did drop down her cheeks, but she said something that I never forgot, “Let‟s pray!” She began thanking God that her father was with the Lord in Heaven and that he wasn‟t suffering anymore.

On the way back to the base, Bob asked me if I would like to visit them again. Absolutely! That first visit resulted in a monthly trip by truck loaded with GIs to the home of the missionaries. We were able to take
supplies of food for them, but they would turn right around and feed it back to us. I began to see the unconditional love of the Lord Jesus through those ladies, and I wanted what they had. I had seen it in my parents, but I hadn‟t seen it in anyone else. One day I sat down in back of a Quonset hut and looked up in the sky and said to God, “Whatever they have, I want it! If you don‟t want me to be a doctor, that‟s all right. Whatever you want me to be or to do, I‟ll be it or do it.” I was nineteen years old.

The next time we visited Emmagene and Ellen, Emmagene came to me in the afternoon and asked, “What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” I replied. “I haven‟t been in any accident!”

“No, it‟s not that. Your attitude has changed. You aren‟t as restless as you were before.”

“Oh, I know!” And then I began to tell her about my prayer in back of the Quonset hut. Later the two of them came back and asked me if I would like to visit the potter with them.

“Sure, and let‟s take some of the other fellows, too!”

“No, we want to take just you.”

“Just me?”

“Yes, just you.” Wow! I couldn‟t get over that! Just me!

After visiting the potter and while returning home, Emmagene asked me,“Did you get anything out of that?”

“No, he didn‟t give me anything.”

“No, I don‟t mean that. Did you learn anything?”

“Not particularly.” And then she opened her Bible to Jeremiah 18:1-6, which talks about God being the potter and Israel the clay. She said tome, “David, God is the potter and you are the clay. What you decided several weeks ago was to be clay in God‟s hands and to let Him make you to be whatever He wants you to be.”

“Yes, that‟s what I want to be—just clay in God‟shands!”

That day began the wonderful lifetime adventure of walking hand in hand with the Lord Jesus and letting Him make me into a vessel fit for His use. Little did I know that ten years later I would be back in that same country of Moroccoas a missionary myself with a wife and three children.

Back on the base, we had a chaplain that didn‟t have a personal relationship with the Lord. He wouldn't permit us to have Bible study in the chapel, so we decided to pray him off the base and to ask God to bring us a born-again chaplain. Three weeks later, the chaplain came to us and said he was being transferred. We asked him if he knew who was taking his place, but he didn‟t know.

In answer to prayer, God brought Chaplain Sam Wiley, a Presbyterian pastor from North Carolina. He was fearless in his preaching of the Word of God. He opened up the chapel to us for Bible study, and also accompanied us when we visited the missionaries. He was with us for eight months and then was transferred.

Chaplain Stewart Ranking followed him. He also was a Presbyterian pastor,but from New York State. He was a quiet man and deeper in the Word. While Chaplain Ranking was with us, a young chaplain that had been serving on the front lines in Italy visited us on the way home. His name was Bob Evans.(Later, he founded the Greater Europe Mission.) He told us that as far as he knew, there were only three born-again chaplains in the entire Naval European Theater of War. We had had two of them, and he was the third. I was greatly impressed by the realization that God had answered our prayers and sent us a miracle. Our unit departed Morocco in December of 1945.

I was honorably discharged from the Navy in April 1946, and enrolled in Multnomah School of the Bible (now called Multnomah Bible College) in Portland,Oregon, that fall. During my first year, I began thinking about being a missionary to Morocco. At the end of that first year, I received a letter from Emmagene Coats stating that she would be at the Gospel Missionary Union headquarters in Kansas City, MO, for a missionary conference, and inviting me to attend the conference also.

My roommate Claude Leavitt and I were serving in camps and daily Vacation Bible Schools during the summer. I realized that I would have about three weeks free before school started that Fall, so I decided to hitchhike from Seattle, Washington, to Kansas City, Missouri, to attend the conference.

As I was saying goodbye to Emmagene at the end of the conference, she asked me again if I was going to return to Morocco as a missionary. I felt led to say to her, “As long as the Lord opens the door, I will go.” From that time on, my Bible and I were both “Morocco-bound.” The Lord never closed a door!

During my second year at Multnomah, God brought Patty Hall into my life. She was a year ahead of me. We became better acquainted during that year. During my last year, I asked her to marry me. Dr. Willard Aldrich announced our engagement on February 14, 1949. I graduated on Friday, June 3 that same year and we were married on Sunday, June 5 by Dr. John G. Mitchell at Central Bible Church where he pastored. During my last two years in Bible school, I had served Dr. Mitchell as his radio choir director. At Patty‟s request, I sang “Because You Come To Me” to her as she came down the aisle on the arm of her uncle, Grimcy Hallson.

We were accepted as missionaries with Gospel Missionary Union after completing six months of candidate training at their headquarters in Kansas City, MO, in 1950.

Our first child, Barbara Sue, was born August 7, 1951 in Seattle, WA, and was six months old when we went to Switzerland in March of 1952 to learn the French language. While there, our second child was born November 5, 1952. We named him David Douglas, but called him Doug. In August of 1953, we flew to Morocco to begin our Arabic studies. Our third child, Mark Donovan, was born there on December 12, 1954. Mark was named after Donovan McVicker, my chum during grade school and high school days in The Dalles, Oregon.

We were just preparing to take our fourth-quarter exam in Arabic at the end of January 1955 when I became sick. At first, we thought it was some form of the flu and we treated it accordingly. During the day, a Monday, I had been reading Matthew 6 and enjoying it immensely when I heard a voice say to me,“David, would you be willing to go a little way with me?” I knew it was the Lord, and said, “Yes, Lord, I‟m willing to do whatever you want me to do.”

On Wednesday that week, Patty served me mashed potatoes and carrots, but I couldn‟t swallow them. The next morning, the severe pain in the base of my skull intensified, and I also had a slight fever. I told Patty that I didn‟t think I had the flu—it was something worse. She talked to the other missionaries at the breakfast table and shared my symptoms. One of the missionaries, Al Jessup, said that those sounded like the symptoms of polio. Our senior missionary‟s wife, Elizabeth Speight, was a registered nurse but at home in the States on medical furlough. Her husband, Marston,consulted her medical books and found that my symptoms did indeed correspond with the symptoms of polio. They called the local French doctor and he said, “Even if you only think he has polio, get him to the French hospital in Casablanca (250 miles away) as fast as you can.”

One of the Arab Christian men in Sefrou, Bouabeed, had a car and took us to Meknes, with me lying in the back seat. Pete Friesen was the only missionary on the field that had a “carry-all” sufficiently large enough to put a cot on the floor for me to lie on. He just “happened” to be in Meknes, so I was transferred to his carry-all.

When we arrived in the capital city of Rabat, 90 miles short of our destination, the missionaries contacted the American Consulate and they recommended that the missionaries take me to the American military hospital in Nouassuer, 15 miles south of Casablanca. While traveling, the right side of my face and my throat became paralyzed. We arrived at the military hospital nine hours after starting out that morning. We found out later that the French hospital had only one iron lung and it was operated manually. But the military hospital had three iron lungs, all operated electrically. It takes two husky men, rotating every 10 minutes, to pump an iron lung manually. I was in it for six and a half weeks. I would not have survived there. We realized that God had directed us to just the right hospital. It was the only hospital in Morocco that could have cared for me adequately.

Three young American military doctors examined me thoroughly and informed Patty that I had two types of polio, bulbar and spinal. Bulbar polio paralyzes the respiratory system, killing the person, and spinal polio paralyzes the limbs of the body. The doctors told her that the combination of the two is generally fatal. She immediately sent a telegram to her mother and my parents through the Red Cross. Her mother was attending a conference at Multnomah Bible College and she received the telegram just ten minutes before a scheduled hour of prayer. The entire faculty and student body went to prayer immediately. When my father received the telegram, he went to the Bible and to prayer. The Lord gave him Psalm 91:15,16. “I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him, and show him my salvation.” He had the assurance from those verses that I would live and not be permanently paralyzed.

I was placed in the care of two male corpsmen who constantly suctioned the mucus from my throat created by the polio. Later that night, I experienced excruciating pain in the base of my skull. It was like someone had a hammer and was hitting me there as hard as they could. I knew I was going to scream if I didn‟t get some help. I asked the corpsmen to give me a sedative. They called the nurse on the floor and she in turn called the head doctor. I found out later that he told her that if they gave me a sedative, it would retard my respiratory system and I would only die that much sooner. So the nurse returned and told me that there wasn‟t anything they could do to help me except make me more comfortable. I turned to the Lord and said, “Lord, these corpsmen can‟t help me and this nurse can‟t help me, and the doctors can‟t help either. I know I‟m going to scream, but that wouldn‟t be honoring to you. Would you help me?”

He helped me by causing me to think about the sufferings of Jesus Christ. I remember meditating on every one of His sufferings, from the time He appeared before the governor until He gave up His spirit on the cross. It occurred to me that no one has ever suffered as much as my Savior, and my suffering was nothing compared to what He had endured for me.

And then that same voice spoke to me again. “David, would you be willing to go a little further with me?” I hesitated at this point and said, “Lord, I don‟t think I could take any more of this pain.” And then, I realized that I didn‟t feel any more pain, so I said, “Yes, Lord, I‟m willing.”

He began to talk to me about death. The first verse of scripture that He brought to my mind was Psalm 23:4: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for THOU ART WITH ME.” All of a sudden, it seemed like the entire room filled with the presence of Jesus Christ. He was there! I didn‟t know whether to laugh or cry. I was so full of joy and ecstasy that I thought my heart would burst! Then another verse of Scripture came to my mind. Philippians 2:21 says, “For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” I remembered how my father quoted that verse, “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is more Christ.” But then it seemed to me as if there was a veil in front of my face, and right on the other side of that veil was Jesus Christ. I knew I would see Him if I could just remove that veil. I tried and tried to remove the veil, but I couldn‟t.

I didn‟t realize until later that the veil was death. I was trying to die, but I couldn‟t. And that was the most disappointing part of the whole thing—I didn‟t get to see the Lord. I knew then what death means to the Christian. Here we are walking hand in hand with the Lord Jesus by faith. He‟s here right now. He‟s more present than we are. He fills this room with His presence, but we don‟t see Him. Now when we die, do we wander around wondering what‟s going to happen next? No! When we die,we‟ll see Him! There He is! And we begin the eternal adventure of walking hand in hand with the Lord Jesus by sight. God forever took out of my heart the fear of death. In fact, for years after that when I conducted a funeral, I cried! Not because my friend had died, but because he got to see the Lord before I did!

Patty had come to the hospital to be with me the next morning. She had gone to the Lord that night to seek His face concerning me and He had led her to read Psalm 27. She received her confidence from verse 2, which says,“When my enemies, even my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell.” That verse was for me. Patty knew that my adversary was the polio virus. But God gave her assurance from that scripture that I would not die, nor would I be permanently paralyzed. The last verse in that chapter was for her: “Wait on the Lord, be of good courage, and He shall strengthen thine heart.” The Lord gave her amazing peace and confidence that I would recover. This was a further testimony to those around us of God‟s grace!

While Patty was with me, I began to have difficulty breathing. She called the nurse, who immediately pushed the panic button. Everyone came running. They brought the surgery table to my side and placed me on it. The surgeon on my left said to the pediatrician on my right (both of whom were my age—29—and just out of medical school), “I know right where I‟m going to cut him open—right here,” as he felt my throat. I saw the black corpsman‟s eyes in back of me get bigger and bigger, and I almost laughed out loud as the surgeon performed the tracheotomy on my throat. They placed me in an iron lung and instructed me to let it do the breathing for me.

For the next three or four days I was unconscious. I was paralyzed on the right side of my face, my neck muscles (I couldn‟t hold up my head), my throat (I couldn‟t swallow), my lungs, and the deltoid muscle in my right shoulder (I couldn‟t move my right arm away from my body), and I was partially paralyzed in my legs.

When I became conscious several days later, Pete Friesen (the missionary that had transported me and Patty to the hospital) leaned over and said to me,“David, I‟ve been calling the missionaries regularly and telling them how you are getting along. I‟m just getting ready to call them again. Do you have anything you would like to say to them?” Oh yes, I had so very much to tell them, but I didn‟t know how to say it. Immediately averse of Scripture came to my mind. I didn‟t know that I would have great difficulty speaking, so it took me a long time to tell him. “Te—llth—em Ac—ts two twen—ty five!” He got his New Testament out and read, “For David speaketh concerning Him, „I foresaw the Lord always before my face, for He is on my right hand that I should not be moved.” I couldn‟t have found a more appropriate verse in the Bibleto tell them exactly what I wanted them to know: “the Lord is right here with me and I‟m not afraid.” And it even had my name in it!

During the next few weeks, God literally poured Scripture into mymind—Scripture that I had memorized ten years previously a few miles up the coast while serving my country in Port Lyautey. Now, He was applying that Scripture to my life, with passages like Romans 8:28-29, as well as verses 26,27, and 34. I remembered verse 28 that says that “all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to His purpose.” And that His purpose for me is “to be conformed to the image of His Son.” Then I remembered verses 26 and 27 which say,“the Holy Spirit prays for me with groanings that
can‟t be uttered, according to the mind of God.” And on the other side of verses 28 and 29was verse 34, which states “the Lord Jesus also makes intercession form.”

It seemed that the Godhead had had a little meeting up in Heaven and one of them said, “How can we make David more like Jesus Christ?” Another member said, “I know! Let‟s give him polio!” And so, ordered out of Heaven was polio just for me! Wasn‟t that great!

Later the Lord brought Hebrews 12:6 to my mind. “Whom the Lord loves, He child-trains.” The thought that He loved me so very much entirely overwhelmed me! I was informed that I was the only polio patient in all of Morocco, and I was impressed that because He loved me so very much, He singled me out to have polio.

One day, my nurse, Grace, sat down beside me and said, “Mr. Hazen, I have taken care of six other men with polio just like yours, and all of them have complained, screamed and swore. But you have never once said boo!I‟ve just got to know what causes you to lie in that iron lung so quietly?” For the next thirty minutes or so, I shared Christ with her though I wasn‟t supposed to be able to talk. I could only say a few words at a time as the lung breathed out.

A week later, Irene Dew, an British missionary, came to visit. While she was with me, she said to Grace, “We‟ve been praying for you.”

“What have you been praying?”

“I have a class of Arab girls, and we have been praying that you might have a personal relationship with the Lord Jesus!”

Then Grace said, “Well, when you go home, you can tell your girls that their prayers have been answered!”

“What?” I exclaimed, “When did that happen?”

She answered, “That night when you shared the Lord Jesus with me, I couldn‟t sleep. The next morning at the breakfast table, I shared with my husband what you had told me and both of us bowed our heads and prayed to receive Jesus into our lives!” Wow! Wasn‟t that great?!

Later, an Air Force sergeant from the Port Lyautey Air Force base visited me. He had attended a Bible study that I had led on the base. He said to me,“I wouldn‟t have given you a chance in the world during those first few days.” I said to him, “I‟m getting better because people have been praying for me.”

“You know, that‟s right. I have a two year old daughter and every night before she goes to bed she prays for Daddy and Mommy and for that man over in the hospital!”

I was so touched by what he said that I asked him, “Do you mind if I tell you what the Lord Jesus meant to me while I was dying?”

“Not a bit!”

So I began telling him about the sufferings of Jesus Christ. He interrupted me and asked, “Doesn‟t it say somewhere in the Bible that none of Christ‟s bones were broken?”

I didn‟t quite know what that had to do with what I was talking about. But then it dawned on me and I said, “That‟s right, sergeant, and its significant too. Do you know why?” He didn‟t know. So I said, “ In order to hasten the death of the two men on each side of Christ, they broke their leg bones. But when they came to Christ, they didn‟t need to break His leg bones. He was already dead! Do you know why, sergeant?” He didn‟t know, so I said, “It wasn‟t the nails in His hands and feet, or the spear in His side that killed Him, sergeant. It was your sin that killed Him! The Bible says, „all our sin was laid on Jesus Christ.‟” Another verse says, “he gave Himself for ours in.”

About that time, my day nurse, Grace, came into the room and reprimanded him for talking to me. She had direct orders not to allow anyone to converse with me. Furthermore, I wasn‟t able to talk. But God had enabled me to talk to that sergeant for about twenty minutes in order for him to hear the gospel. Amazing!

I said to him, “Sergeant, before you leave will you promise me two things?”


Would you promise to do what I‟ve told you to do, and then would you come back and tell me all about it?”


I recuperated so rapidly that he wasn‟t able to visit me before I left. But later I received a letter from him and he told me that when he left my room he went down the hall and entered a dental clinic, knelt down by a dental chair, and did exactly what I told him to do! I received a letter from my nurse and she told me that she had seen him on the base carrying a Bible. Amazing!

Another day, Pete Friesen asked me if I would pray for him. I said, Sure, Pete. What do you want me to pray?”

“Pray that I will be willing to do anything God wants me to do!”

Three weeks later, after I had been released, we received word that Pete had taken his pregnant wife, Elsie, to the hospital and she had died because of too much albumen in her system. Why? Why would God take Elsie, but leave me? It was then that I learned something about the sovereignty of God. It helped some to realize that even the Lord Jesus asked, “Why?”

I recuperated very rapidly, so much so that the doctor came to me one day and said that they needed to send me back to the States for further therapy. They didn‟t have the facilities in their hospital for further therapy. I resisted that by saying, “Doctor, I‟m getting better right here. I don‟t need to go home. I‟ll get well right here and go back to Sefrou to continue my Arabic study. You go back and tell the other doctors that I don‟t need to go back to the States.” He said he would, but he was confident that they would not change their minds.

Then God began to work in my mind. “How many people on this base know that there is a missionary here dying of polio, but he‟s still alive?” I realized that all of them knew it. A picture of me in the lung was on the front page of the base paper with quite a lengthy article about me as a missionary. People walked by my room and stopped to talk with Patty.“Well, don‟t you think, David, that there are a lot of people back in the States that would like to hear what I‟ve done for you?”

“Oh, okay,” I said, “when do we leave?”

They ordered a Military Air Transport Service plane out of Germany just for me. I was placed on a bed in the rear of the plane and attended by a nurse and a doctor with a chest respirator on me. They filled up the rest of the plane with military personnel going home on furlough and flew us to Boston, Massachusetts, where an ambulance was waiting to take me to the Boston Children‟s Hospital.

While in the hospital, I remembered what Dr. John Mitchell had taught me:“If you‟re ever in suffering, read First Peter.” I read through the book once, but didn‟t find anything, so I started reading it through again and came to I Peter 1:6: “Wherein ye greatly rejoice though now for a season if need be you are in heaviness through manifold trial.”Three little words stood out like a neon light, “IF NEED BE.” For the first time, I asked God, “Was it necessary for me to have polio?”

Immediately, Philippians 4:19 came to my mind: “For my God shall provide all your need according to His riches in glory, by Christ Jesus.”“Yes, David, you needed polio.” Wasn‟t that wonderful! He gave me polio, and I didn‟t even ask Him for it!

At the end of two weeks, the doctor informed me that I could go home. I was released from the hospital, able to walk, talk, and swallow, with the exception of a little residual in my throat. I flew to Portland, Oregon, by commercial airline all by myself to be reunited with my wife and family. God not only gave me my life back and returned me to my family, but He also blessed Patty and me a year later with a daughter we named Christine Louise, born February 11, 1956. To God be all the glory!

* * * *


There are several observations of God‟s leading that I would like to make after this experience:

1. God laid it on the heart of a novice to diagnose my illness as polio.

2. If we hadn‟t left for the hospital that day, I would have died the next morning, without the iron lung to keep me breathing.

3. Pete Friesen just “happened” to stop for a cup of tea in Meknes (the town next to us) for half an hour before going on inland. He was the only one of our missionaries with a van who could take me to the hospital, 250 miles away. Our phone call came while he was there.

4. Had I been taken to the hospital in Casablanca, I would have died because of the prolonged need for an iron lung. God was very skillfully caring for and leading us.

* * * *

In June of 1955, I was well on the way to recovery and we began to think about going back to Morocco. But we were immediately arrested in our thinking by something that Patty had told me in November 1954 in Morocco. She had been somewhat depressed for a month or more, but hadn‟t shared it with me. She told me one day about the depression and that she was confused about her call to Morocco. I simply said, “If you are doubting your call, let‟stake it to the Lord in prayer and leave it with him as to what He wants us to do. If He doesn‟t want us in Morocco, He will send us home.” As we prayed, Patty‟s depression immediately left her, and I was relieved. So we went right on with our Arabic study to prepare for our ministry in Morocco. We had forgotten all about the prayer we had prayed until now—and now we were home! Not because of our doing, but because God had brought us home. We realized that God didn‟t want us to go back to Morocco, and later, other circumstances confirmed this decision. Amazing!

* * * *

Dr. Jonas Salk introduced the Salk vaccine for polio in June 1955, six months after I contracted polio.

* * * *

Emmagene Coats died December 19, 1995 and was buried in Meknes, Morocco. She served as a missionary for 50 years in Morocco. Her colleague, Ellen Doran,arrived back in the US December 23, 1995, and resided at the Redeemer Residence in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

* * * *

Donovan McVicker died in 1979 while pastoring in Washington State.

* * * *

Bob Griffin is serving as a deacon in a Baptist church in Birmingham, Michigan.

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