REMEMBERING PRESIDENT GORDON B. HINCKLEY

As a boy growing up on a horse ranch South of Pocatello, I often took trail rides up Gibson Jack, Scout Mountain, East Fork, West Fork and once in a while I even rode up to Lake Solitude in Teton National Park. Trail riding gives one plenty of time to think about your place in the universe and whether you even have one.

One of the things I thought about most was whether I would go on a mission for my church for two years when I turned nineteen. My parents never pushed me to decide one way or the other, but my father did tell me that if I did go, to make sure I was committed to giving my best effort for two years or I would come home disappointed.

To my Bishop’s utter amazement, I finally decided to go and spend two years giving my best effort.

In 1964, we all went to the mission home in Salt Lake City for a week prior to leaving for our missions. One of the highlights of that week was being set apart by one of the general authorities of the church to be a missionary.

Gordon B. Hinckley, then an Apostle of the church, was assigned to set me apart and my parents were invited to attend. As he placed his hands on my head and was about to set me apart, he paused for a minute then leaned over and asked me if I was a good young man? The question threw me and I was absolutely sure that he had probably been informed by the Lord that I was a typical cowboy and knew how to hold my own with the best of them. I was surprised that he didn’t ask if I planned on taking my revolver with me.

My mother didn’t give me a chance to answer his question, but stood and began testifying to Elder Hinckley that I was a very good young man. I thought he would say something like, “thank you for your assurance, but I would like to hear it from your son”.  He just smiled, set me apart, shook everyone’s hand and encouraged me to do the best I knew how to do. Years later I learned that President Hinckley had the utmost love and respect for the mothers of the church and felt that they knew their children better than anyone else. If a mother told him that her boy was a good person he tended to believe her. Maybe that love and respect for the mothers of the church came from experiences with his mother. Evidently, Gordon Hinckley’s mother had some heart to heart chats with him when he was growing up and he never forgot her influence in his life.

I only met President Hinckley two times after I returned from my mission, but was always impressed with his gentleness and sincere concern for people of all faiths. He even seemed to be able to relate to a young cowboy who had come to the decision that it was important to leave his guns and horse at home and go on a mission for two years.