dad's turn

I've been thinking about young Jackson this Sunday. In December, he gave a talk and told of the time they got locked out of their car at Mammoth, home of the ornamental lawn elk, and that he offered a prayer that his Dad would be able to get the key without breaking the window, and that Heavenly Father answered his prayer. Our Father in Heaven does answer prayers, and thereby our faith in Him is increased. These are not inconsequential matters. To learn something of the spirit world, the one we do not see, the one we came from, and to have contact with that world, makes a deeper impression on our minds and hearts than just about anything else can. The great seer, Joseph Smith, wrote, "Could you gaze into heaven five minutes, you would know more than you would by reading all that ever was written on the subject." And believe it, Joseph knew what he was talking about. Answered prayers, it seems to me, are a way of gazing into heaven. They are miracles, and not small ones. Thanks for teaching these sweet children to have faith. I hope I can have the faith of a child.

Barbara and I were in a temple session a few weeks back, and I started to get that familiar tickle in the throat and began coughing, and it wouldn't go away, and I figured I would have to leave. I offered a silent prayer that the cough might be taken from me so I could finish the session. It didn't stop, however, and I thought, well, that prayer wasn't answered. I started to leave, but I noticed the brother sitting next to me fidgeting around in his pocket. He pulled out a Hall's cough drop, nicely wrapped, honey-lemon, and handed it to me. I whispered a thank you, and it took care of my problem, and it tasted pretty good too.

A cynic might say that this was a happy coincidence, that the man who happened to sit next to me, happened to have a cough drop, and would have given it to me, prayer or no prayer. I'm one to believe however that the man carried a cough drop that day, and sat where he sat, because God knew that another man would need it, and would offer a prayer, and that simple prayer would need an answer, and the man with the cough would have a spiritual experience that day in the Temple, and, more importantly, a brother in the spirit world would have his endowment completed.

I remember losing my glasses at our reunion in Idaho, and my brother, Clark, suggesting that we pray, and when he finished the prayer, the glasses were found within minutes. Clark is a man of great faith, I hope you know, and he teaches me spiritual lessons. Over the years, I have had many such experiences. These are the kinds of things, seemingly small things, that stay with us, that build our faith.

Now on the lighter side. We were blessed to hear Bishop Edgeley of the Presiding Bishopric speak in our conference yesterday and today. He told of a man, a C.E.O. and a Stake President on the east coast, a very busy and important man, who consented to accompany his wife to a small town in Idaho to her 30th high school reunion. He was, after all, interested in seeing some of the folks she was friends with in school, especially one male friend of hers, an old boy friend. He was secretly delighted to discover that this fellow was bald and pudgy and had never left this small town where he now owned an ice cream parlor.

On the flight home, he asked his wife if she was happy that she had married a C.E.O. and Stake president, rather than the small-town, ice cream guy. She looked him in the eye, and said that he just didn't get it. If she had married that fellow, he would have, no doubt, turned out to be a C.E.O. and a Stake President, and that the guy sitting next to her on the plane would probably have not amounted to much. We all had a good laugh at this story, but we priesthood brethren in the audience knew there was truth in it.

So, ladies, thanks for making us all that we can be. We'd be lost without you, and likely wouldn't have become the fine fellows we are today. What do you say to that, Sisters? And by the way, if any of you, men or women or children, have had spiritual experiences you would like to share, I would like to read them.

May the Lord bless you and keep you. Love, Dad a.k.a. Grandpa.