TWO DEAF ELDERS

My spiritual maturity began in earnest when I chose to serve a full time mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints at age nineteen.  I was called to serve in the Western Canadian Mission which encompassed all of Saskatchewan, Alberta, and a northern portion of British Columbia.  My last area of service was in Dawson Creek, British Columbia.  It was a beautiful place to serve but not very productive in finding people who wanted to investigate the Church.  We knocked on a lot of doors until, in our minds at least, we had knocked on them all with nary a single soul interested in learning more about what we had to offer.  We were discouraged.  We didn’t know what to do.  Dawson Creek was part of the agriculturally blessed Peace River region.  Gorgeous farms spread as far as the eye could see.  We had contemplated visiting those farm houses but decided against it.  They were so far apart that most of our time would be spent driving which seemed fairly non-productive.  Also, it seemed to me that every farm had at least one large dog that was surely bred from a long line of northern Canada’s fiercest wolves.  Given my past experience as a newspaper delivery boy, those farm dogs were the ultimate deal breaker.  So we decided to avoid those who lived on farms.  That decision, combined with the lack of success within the town, left us with absolutely no prospects with whom to share the gospel.  Unbeknown to us, but not to God, a more spiritually sensitive man, by the name of Bob Critchlow, was pulling into his driveway in Ogden, Utah at the conclusion of his annual two week vacation with his family.  Bob had served as a missionary in Dawson Creek some twenty odd years before us.  As Bob parked his car, happy to be home after a long drive, he had the distinct impression he needed to drive to Dawson Creek and that he shouldn’t delay the trip.  He explained to the Lord that he had just returned and that he didn’t have any additional vacation time.  He felt constrained to go into the house and call his boss to ask for an additional two weeks, which he did.  Surprisingly, he was given the additional time off.  So the next available morning, Bob loaded his family into the station wagon and began the 2000 mile journey to Dawson Creek.  It should be noted that his decision most certainly could not have been welcome news to his children as they faced those long hours on the road while confined in the car.  Shortly after they arrived in Dawson Creek they found us.  He asked how the missionary work was progressing and we sheepishly replied that it had ground to a standstill.  He asked if we had visited the farms in the surrounding area.  Of course we had to admit that we hadn’t, though we didn’t elaborate on our reasons.  He suggested we do so.  He said that during his time in the area, the farmers often were more open to the message of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ than were those who lived in town.  We nodded and assured him that we would while secretly dealing with our personal reservations.  He spent a few days visiting and then he and his family crammed back into the car and headed home.  I’m certain he had to be wondering what that prompting and trip was all about.  He deserved to know why he had been prompted to come to Dawson Creek and what resulted in consequence of not only his sensitivity to the Spirit’s prompting but his obedience in following it, even at such an expense.  After they left Dawson Creek, things returned to normal for us.  We were still reluctant to visit the farms.  But after a few weeks of continued futility, we decided we should.  At first we didn’t have any more success reaching out to the farmers than we did with anyone else.  But one afternoon, as the sun was starting to creep lower in the western sky, everything changed.  My companion was driving and we were heading west, into the sun, along a gravel road at a pretty decent speed, at least for the conditions.  I noticed off to our left a row of trees that ran perpendicular to the road we were travelling.  As we zoomed past them I caught a glimpse of a house surrounded by trees at the end of a long lane.  I started to say something to my companion but then realized that one farmhouse was as good as another so I just said nothing and we kept driving.  My companion must have noticed the same line of trees, the same lane, and the same house because a few minutes later, without saying a word to each other and exactly at the same time, he looked at me and I looked at him and still without saying a word to each other, we both knew we had to turn around and go back to that house.  We drove down that tree lined lane and knocked on the door.  A very nice family lived there.  They invited us in.  We began teaching them the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.  They eagerly accepted its timeless message.  The time of my mission service ended before the entire family was baptized, but I was informed of the occasion.  It is also my understanding that he became the Branch President and she became the Relief Society President.  I also heard the family went to the temple as soon as possible and enjoyed the blessings of being sealed together for all eternity.  As so often happens, the meaning of things becomes much clearer in retrospect.  The Spirit had invited my companion and I to push past our reservations and contact the farmers in the surrounding area, but being spiritually deaf we refused to hear.  That resulted in Bob Critchlow, who was obviously far more in tune than we were, having to respond to an invitation to drive all the way to Dawson Creek and spur us from our comfort zone and drive those dusty, gravel roads, the result of which had eternal consequences for that family.