This story offers the reader what it so states, a whisper of hope, a measure of faith. For ordinary people, caught in a darkness they did or did not bring on themselves, what is first needed, is a whisper of hope. They are so convinced that the darkness will never go away. It may be the darkness of grief, the darkness that comes from abuse and neglect, the darkness that fighting disease brings, the darkness of addiction, the darkness of depression. They need to know they are not alone. The stories of hope are told through the eyes of John Krayle, a retired Methodist Bishop, who is writing his memoirs in tribute to his beloved wife, Marti. These are fictional people whom I have met time and time again in my little span of time called my life. In this story, set in their early years of their ministry while John was still a Baptist Preacher, John and Marti strive to bring hope into the lives of the people of this community. They want to make a difference. And they do. There is humor sprinkled here and there, and a little romance, but generous on the seeking of hope and the clinging to a measure of faith. In no way do I mean to reflect negatively on my Baptist friends or the Baptist church and hope it is understood by my readers. The setting of the story is rural southern Indiana in the late 1930s and 40s, a time in which the shadow of war became a reality, and the peoples of this small community as well as the rest of the nation needed more than ever the flicker of light of the whisper of hope.