The Lost Pocket Knife

When  I was a boy, about five or six years old, my father gave me an inexpensive pocket knife. It was a simple folding lock-blade--a wooden handle and brass on the ends--but it was a gift I cherished.

Months later on a spring day a friend of mine asked to borrow the knife as he and a few others were going to cut asparagus that grew wild on the roadsides near our homes. To my dismay, after some time, my friend returned without the knife. It was lost!

That knife was one of my prized possessions. I loved it and I was heart-broken. My dear mother, not to be deterred, and not one who was happy about losing things, mounted her yellow Schwinn ten-speed and rode to the place the boys had been. However, her best efforts were fruitless. She could not find the knife. She was about to return, but had the distinct feeling that she should pray. She knelt and offered what I think was a simple, but sincere prayer. She asked God for help to find the knife. When she opened her eyes, they settled upon a clump of wheat grass in front of her there on the roadside where she knelt. She looked behind the clump and there was the pocket-knife. 

When she returned with the knife, I was overjoyed! Before she gave it to me, she said that I should thank Heavenly Father. She shared with me the story of how she had almost given up, but felt a prompting, prayed and found the knife.

In the grand scheme of things, what does a little boy's pocket knife matter? I will tell you what it matters. From this experience I learn that God knew me, a six year-old boy in Palmyra, Utah. He knew my heart. He knew my little-boy sorrow. He knows all of us. And he loves us as a tender parent. And he hears our prayers. He knows our sorrows and our concerns. If we will call upon him, he will answer us. It will be in his own time and in his own way, but the answer will come. And, if we are persistent and faithful, we will be the grateful beneficiaries of his grace. 

Lessons from my Mission

12/31/2011 9:05 a.m.

Over the last month or two, I've been reading from Elder John H. Groberg's memoir In the Eye of the Storm about his time as a missionary in Tonga as a  young man. I've been thinking for years that I would like to write about my mission in Southern Germany. I kept a pretty decent journal. I would like to go back and revisit my mission experiences. I would like to learn and gain more from the many experiences I had, and the companions I worked with. So, without further ado . . . Episodes from the Life of Bryce: My Mission.

Take-home lessons from my mission:
1) Understanding and doing what God wants is all that matters. This is the summary take-home message I got from my mission.

When I went out into the mission field, I had clear ideas of what I wanted to happen. Shortly before embarking on my mission, my family and I read together in Alma 17 in the Book of Mormon. I read that the sons of Mosiah were going to preach the gospel to a wicked, hardened, and ferocious people. I thought that with my obedience and labor, I would have experiences similar to those had by Ammon. I believed I would find success. Few things could be further from the truth. In spite of my very best efforts, all of my labors seemed to fall flat.

In retrospect, some of the most important experiences I had on my mission were those I shared with mission companions, church members, and a few investigators who eventually embraced the gospel, repented and were baptized. To this day, some of my most significant and lasting relationships are with those who were already members of the church before I met them.

At this end of the spectrum, I am grateful. It has taken me quite a while to feel comfortable with what my mission was. I went on my mission in August of 1998. I returned near the end of July of 2000. In the 11 1/2 years since I have returned, I have thought of my mission nearly every day. As Elder W. Christopher Waddell of the Seventy taught at the last General Conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, "your mission is a training ground for life," and, "there is no returned missionary for whom it is too late to consider the lessons obtained through faithful service" (Ensign November 2011, p. 50-51).

So, between Elder Waddell's words, Elder Groberg's memoir, and my own desire to treasure more deeply the experience I had a s a missionary, I am starting this section of my blog.

Episodes from the life of Bryce

Monday 8/29/2011 19:57

I've been thinking for a while that I'd like to start writing down anecdotes from my life. I love my children, and they, in turn, love stories. Our memories seem to be built around events. If I get in the right frame of mind, I can journey through the past and recall many stories from my youth and life to this point. I have kept journals, it is true; I am glad for that. But, I think, when told in retrospect, life can be interesting and entertaining, and perhaps even instructive.

I don't know if I will write or share everything I can remember. Some of my memories are dark. What's the use of sharing those? I think I would much rather focus on the good things of life, the happy experiences, and the experiences that have helped me become who I am today.

So, without further ado, sit back, relax, and enjoy. . . . Episodes from the life of Bryce