Here's the third installment of readers' stories — from France to
Japan and many places in between — about their experiences
encountering other Mormons in unexpected places.
Walt Disney got if right. It's a small world, after all. I recall a sixth-grade teacher, Mrs. Demers, teaching us that very
principle. She gave several examples of odd coincidences that had
happened in her life. I was fascinated by her stories.At the
age of 16, I elected to participate in the YDE pineapple picking
program. I was flown to Lanai, Hawaii, where I labored for six months
with other teens my age in the planting and harvesting of pineapples.
There I got to know my fellow workers very well and admired them.On
a well-deserved vacation, I checked into my hotel in Oahu. There in the
lobby, I recognized my sixth-grade teacher and re-introduced myself to
her. I reminded her of the lesson she taught us about how small the
world could be. She smiled as she remembered that, and I found it
amazing that something so random could occur so far from home. She
inquired about another ward member, and I was pleased to tell her that
he was in the hotel with us also. Two years later, as I sat
waiting for a Monday meeting to begin at the MTC, I heard someone call
my name. I looked to my left, and sitting two chairs away was a fellow
pineapple crew member who had often worked alongside me in the fields
of Lanai. We wished each other well, and I rejoiced in the knowledge
that other crew members that I knew were serving missions. While
on my mission on Pohnpei Island in Micronesia, I discovered that one of
my mission companions knew a co-worker from my Hawaiian experience. I
was updated on what was going on his life. I also ran across an
islander on my mission who had also served with me in Hawaii.Finally
as I was about to leave for home, I was on the island of Guam in the
mission president's home eating dinner with some new arrivals from the
MTC. There, I was surprised to learn that one of the female
missionaries there had dated one of my home ward members back in the
states. As I arrived home, I met with this ward member and
told him about the girl on Guam. He confirmed her story and said she
had better not get her hopes up, because he was not dating someone
else. I sat back with a smile on my face. — Kenneth Hay, Katy, Texas
In June,1997, my husband, Ron, and I took a wonderful trip to
France. Ron had served his mission in France in 1957-1960. At that
time, the French mission included all of France and the French-speaking
parts of Belgium and Switzerland. We toured through France, going to
the places where he had served on his mission.
One of the places where he served was Nice, France. We were able to
attend church in the ward where he had served as branch president 40
years earlier. We were delighted to become reacquainted with members
who remembered him well. We were looking forward to attending church in
Nice for several reasons — one of them being that we wanted to see
Elder Serge Gaston, the grandson of Brother Gaston, whom Ron knew well
when he served in Nice.
Serge had served his mission in Mesa, Ariz., where we lived and he had
been in our home a couple of times for meals when he was assigned to
our area. That in itself makes it a small world. But the story gets
better.
We were anxious to reconnect with Serge during this visit to Nice. We
were very disappointed to hear that he and his family had been
transferred by his company to the northern part of France just a few
weeks before we arrived. We left Nice with sad hearts that we had been
unsuccessful in this particular reunion.
We continued our tour through France, winding our way northward back
toward Paris. One evening, we found ourselves in Limoges, France,
population approximately 140,000. This was not a city we had originally
planned to visit, but circumstances during our travels during the week
just led us there. The next morning, we got up early, intending to make
the most of our day. As we dressed, Ron pulled out his white sweatshirt
with "BYU" emblazoned in big letters across the front.
As he put it on, he said, "I'm going to wear this sweatshirt today. If
there are any members or missionaries in the city who see us, they will
certainly make themselves known to us."
Our first order of business was to go to a certain part of the town by
the beautiful, old train station to take care of some business
regarding our rental car. When we finished, we decided to walk back
toward the center of town, get our bearings and then begin
exploring. We came to a big intersection in the center of town, and as
we stood there, we decided to get out our map and plot out where we
wanted to go.
We were standing on this street corner, our heads buried in the map,
when a pleasant voice said in excellent English, "May I be of help?" We
looked up and there stood Elder Serge Gaston. Imagine the surprise we
all felt as we stood there stunned at this coincidental, providential
meeting! The first words out of my mouth were, "Elder Gaston! Elder
Gaston!"
Serge said that he had left his office in downtown Limoges and was on
his way home to have lunch with his wife, two little daughters and the
missionaries. He started to take his usual route home but at the last
minute changed his mind and went a different way, even though it was a
little longer. As he approached the intersection on the other side of
the street, he looked across the street and saw Ron, who is very tall
and not easy to miss, wearing the BYU sweatshirt. He didn't recognize
us at first — he just knew he had to cross the street and talk with us.
Serge took us to his home, where we spent a delightful couple of hours
becoming acquainted with his wife and two charming daughters.
— Laurie McIntyre, Mesa, Ariz.
I sent my missionary papers to Salt Lake telling them that I would be
willing to go anywhere they wanted me to go. I secretly wanted to go
to Africa but didn't have any hopes of being sent there. In
August of 1996, at the age of 57 and as a single sister, I was
surprised to receive a call to the Cape Town South Africa Mission,
where I spent a year and a half, mostly working in the mission office
in Pinelands.I went to the Mowbray Ward and loved my association with the members there. I returned home in February 1998.I
arrived at church one Sunday morning in Elma, Wash. (some time had
passed since my arrival home from South Africa), took my regular seat
and glanced around to see who was there. I saw a man sitting on the
other side of the chapel who looked very familiar, but I thought it was
just my imagination. I took a few peeks trying to get a better look at
him trying not to be too obvious. After sacrament meeting, I
walked to the other side of the chapel to go to Sunday School class. As
I got to his aisle, we both stopped in shock and amazement. It turned
out to be a brother from the Mowbray Ward in Cape Town, South Africa. We
gave each other a hug and I took him to class, where he told me his
story as to why he was there. He and his wife had flown to the United
States. He was in Westport, Wash., visiting with a friend, and his wife
had gone on to Utah, where they would later meet. This
particular Sunday, he decided to go to church but said he did not want
to go to the Westport Branch because the building looked too much like
a doll house. He drove on to Aberdeen trying to find the church, but it
is difficult for a stranger to find. He drove out of Aberdeen and on
down the road about 25 minutes, when he saw the Elma chapel from the
freeway.— Nancy (Hill) Ostler, Richland, Wash.
__IMAGE1__LDS missionaries are always thrilled whenever they are able to baptize an investigator, especially one who responds to the first
discussion and immediately knows that Joseph Smith restored the Gospel
of Jesus Christ.But for Elder Lorenzo Henry (Enrico) Semadeni
and his wife, Sister Virginia Semadeni, the thrill was magnified many
times when they met one of his converts and his wife, both serving
special assignments as Hill Cumorah Pageant Volunteer Missionaries,
last July.In his own conversion story, 50 years ago, Semadeni
was converted to the Church while living on a farm and ranch at Cedar
Point, Utah, located in the Four Corners Area on the Utah-Colorado
state line, approximately 35 miles southeast of Monticello, Utah. He
recalls that missionaries traveled 60 miles one way to teach his family
the Gospel. He is the youngest of eight (seven living)
children, the son of Aldeberto and Margarita Semadeni, both immigrants
from the old country, now deceased.In 1963, Semadeni served his
first mission in the Northwestern States Mission, headquartered in
Portland, Ore. While laboring in Spokane, Wash., Semadeni and his
companion found an investigator, Kirby Jones, taught him the gospel,
and he was baptized. Jones said, "They taught me the first
discussion, testified from their hearts that Joseph Smith was the
Prophet of the Restoration, gave me the Joseph Smith First Vision
pamphlet and asked me to read it that night, then to pray to our
Heavenly Father that I might know if it was the true gospel."Jones
continued, "I read the pamphlet that night, then prayed that I might
know if these things were true. A feeling struck me like a bolt of
lightning. Then a calmness came over me and I knew that very minute
that it was, indeed, true."He was baptized soon after and
became an active member of the church. Semadeni completed an honorable
mission, finished his college education, worked for Exxon Corp. as a
hospital administrator and later worked for the state of Utah. He lost
track of Brother Jones.Forty-six years later, Brother Jones,
volunteering with his wife as Hill Cumorah Pageant missionaries, met
Elder and Sister Semadeni serving as site missionaries in the New York
Rochester Mission, assigned to the special sites in Palmyra and
Fayette, N.Y.The Joneses have a family of six children; the Semadenis have five children, all active in the church.Elder Semadeni observes that "from small beginnings, great things will come to pass."— Robert E. Rampton, Salt Lake City
In the ward where I grew up in Salt Lake City, there was a wonderful lady named Linda Voll who had experienced a harrowing escape from East Germany some years after the war. She has since passed on, but this story would never have happened if it weren't for her. In 1991, only about two years after the Berlin Wall came down, some friends of hers from East Germany came to visit her. She had been close to them around the time she joined the church and was living near Dresden. Those visiting were Brother and Sister Schulze and their daughter Elke. Elke had just finished a mission in California and her parents were picking her up. As it happened, they were visiting at Thanksgiving time. Linda only had a small apartment, so my mother invited them all to dinner at our house. I was pursuing a degree in German in college and had received my mission call to the Germany Munich Mission just a few days before Thanksgiving. All of my family had heard President Monson's stories about the miracles surrounding the building of the East German Temple in Freiberg, near Dresden, so we were all excited to have the chance to meet the Schulzes and talk with them. They arrived in the afternoon and we had a traditional Thanksgiving meal. My father recorded in his journal that despite the fact that Brother and Sister Schulze spoke very little English, we all "felt very comfortable with each other." After dinner Elke and I took turns translating for Brother and Sister Schulze as we learned about life in the church in East Germany and heard some wonderful stories about the building of the Freiberg temple. My father wrote that "it was a very spiritual, uplifting experience." Now fast-forward to October 2008. A variety of circumstances had taken me back to Germany for a three-month stay. One weekend, through a series of unforeseen events, I found myself visiting Dresden — my first time ever in that beautiful city. I was thrilled by the idea that I could attend church there. I thought, "Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could see that family again?" I had long since lost track of them, but not forgotten them. The only problem was, that I couldn't remember their name. Right before church I finally remembered the name "Elke"but I couldn't remember their last name. I sat down in the meeting with a prayer in my heart. As the bishopric member got up to announce the meeting, I was still trying to remember the name. Just then he announced the name of the person who would give the opening prayer: "Elke Schulze-Walker."I was thrilled! Could that be her? I looked up to the stand. Yes, 17 years had gone by, but that might well be her. As she came back down from the stand I watched to see where she was sitting and to my amazement, she had been sitting immediately behind me with her parents.When the meeting ended, I turned around and introduced myself. I wasn't sure that they would remember me, but I knew they would remember the Thanksgiving they had spent in America. As I talked to Brother Schulze, I found that not only did he remember that Thanksgiving, but he remembered details about it that I had forgotten. For example, that year, for the first time, we had placed three kernels of popcorn on each plate. Before we started the meal, each person at the table had the chance to talk about a blessing for each grain of popcorn. That had left such an impression on him that he had shared that idea and story with several people in his circle of influence during the years since then. In talking to Elke, I found out that she was just in Dresden for that weekend because her kids had fall break. It just "happened" that she was there that Sunday, and it just "happened" that she was asked to give the opening prayer. Very soon — too soon — I had to leave, and so did they, but I was left with a feeling of wonder at how we are interconnected and how the Lord used many small circumstances to let our lives cross, first in 1991 and then again in 2008.— Michele Woodbury Nielson, Salt Lake City
I was at the Mount Timpanogos temple for the sealing of the family of one of my friends/neighbors/ward members, Stephanie. Years back when I first met her, I told her how she reminded me of my
cousin Sherrin. After the sealing, we went over to Stephanie's
parents' for dinner. As we sat around the table we began talking about
places we had lived in the past. Stephanie's mother mentioned living
in Barstow, Calif., when she was young.
I told her I had cousins who lived there as well, actually the cousin
her daughter, Stephanie, reminded me of. She asked me her name and I
said, "Sherrin."
Her eyes got wide and she asked me what her last name was. When I told
her, she said, "She was my best friend growing up. We went to Primary
and elementary school together."
She proceeded to tell me all about my cousin's whole family she had
known. When I got home and thought about it more as I shared the story
with my family, I also realized that both my cousin Sherrin and
Stephanie's mother had named their oldest child (daughters) Stephanie.
— Nancy Nichols, Magna, Utah
While serving our first mission in the Washington D.C. South Mission (1997-2000), we lived in the Fair Oaks Ward of the Oakton Stake in Fairfax, Va.The first Sunday there, we found that the gospel doctrine teacher, Brother Marve Poulton, and I attended the Twin Falls First Ward about 1946. His mother and my mother were good friends, and his mother had a baby shower for my mother when my brother was born.There is more!A few months later, we were at an "empty nesters" fireside, and the speaker was a former bishop of the Northern Virginia area named Ray Young. I asked him after the fireside if he was from Twin Falls. He was, and it turned out that my father was his Scoutmaster, and he was a leader in my father's Boy Scout troop, again the Twin Falls First Ward about 1945.Don't go away —- the best is yet to come!A few months later, we were at Dulles International Airport welcoming new missionaries. Sister Robinson was greeting the sisters and I was greeting the elders as they came off the airplane. One of the new sister missionaries, Sister Madsen, told my wife that her mother had Robinson family that came from Maine, which is where my family came from.My great-grandparents (John Robinson/Abigail Parsons) joined the church in Maine in 1837 and moved to Nauvoo in 1842. They came west with the Edward Hunter-Joseph Horne (John Taylor) company with four children. We knew of one of the four children's descendants, but not of any of the other children's. We had now found another descendant of John Robinson's other children. It was thrilling to find that there were other descendants faithful in the gospel, and that now two of John Robinson/Abigail Parson children's descendants were serving together at the same time in the same mission.Later research showed that Madsen's grandfather, Isaac, was thought so much of, he traveled a long distance to bless my father. We had a wonderful reunion with the Madsens after we returned.Consider the odds of us being on a mission in Northern Virginia, called to a position to meet new missionaries, to be at a particular airport at a particular time and share particular family information. Wait! There's more.We served a second mission in Perth Australia in the mission office (2002) which is about as far away from Salt Lake as possible. Elder and Sister Obenhauer came to replace us. She said, "Do you know a Spencer and Erma Robinson from Twin Falls, Idaho?" I was surprised that anyone would know my mother and father in Australia, and said, "How do you know my mother and father?"Her brother, Kent, and I were friends, went to school together and played sports together about 1948. Her mother and father (Leola/Andy Anderson) were best friends of my mother and father, lived one block away from each other and again attended the Twin Falls First Ward. We had not seen each other for about 60 years.— Richard S. Robinson, Salt Lake City
While serving as senior missionaries in the faraway land of Myanmar, we had a "small world" experience. During the last four months of our mission we got word that a new couple was being sent to us from Bangkok, Thailand. Imagine our surprise to find the new couple was our son's mother- and father-in-law. Not only were they relatives by marriage, but they had been in our home ward and we had known them for more than 25 years. — Kelvyn and Kay Cullimore, Cottonwood Heights, Utah
Some LDS connections:Elder Rolf Kerr, who gave the opening prayer at conference, was student body president at Utah State University in Logan in 1960 when my husband and I were students there. Elder L. Whitney Clayton was Regional Representative in Orange County, Calif., during part of the time we lived there (1984-2008). Linda Swenson Margotts, who played the organ during the second session of conference, and I both took piano lessons from Dearwyn Sundwall when we lived in the Lansing, Mich., Ward in the 1950s. She was also my first babysitting job when I was 11 and she was 4. Elder Tad R. Callister is the father of Angela Dalebout, who is the wife of our home ward's (Tustin 5th, Orange California Stake) bishop. Elder D. Todd Christofferson is the cousin of Joyce Hanson, who is the wife of our former Orange California Stake president. We are currently serving a senior mission In South Boston, Va. The former branch president Mayo is the son of our former Bloomfield Hills Michigan Stake President Barry Mayo. Our daughter, Annette Farrar Brower, took violin lessons from Kris Woodson when we lived in Southfield Mich. There are many Woodsons here in our South Boston Branch. It appears they are related to Kris, so we are in the process of checking this out. LaRee Farrar, Scottsburg, Va.
__IMAGE2__My wife, Lynn, and I have spent several years teaching in overseas
schools teaching expatriate children. In 1999 we had an assignment to
teach in a small school operated by an oil company on Sakhalin Island,
Russia. We were in the Russia Vladivostok Mission area when
Alvin Price was mission president there. He and his wife, Barbara,
came to visit several times that year supervising us and another
Russian couple, the Maltsevs, while establishing a branch in the city
of Yuzhno-Sakalinsk. We came to love the Prices very much and
experienced a bittersweet goodbye as we left Russia. Six
years later, Lynn and I were teaching school in Shenzhen, China, and
went to the Hong Kong Temple with our branch. To our great surprise,
while waiting for our session to start, in walked Alvin and Barbara
Price. Later we found out they were teaching English at a university in
Guangzhou and had come with their branch to the temple that day. The
next summer, I was visiting with my brother who lives in North Salt
Lake. I attended a ward gathering and again met up with the Prices, who
had recently moved into that ward. It was a joyous reunion.— Gordon Cooper, Vancouver, Wash.
I was raised in Taber, a small farming community in southern Alberta, Canada, but I have lived all of my adult life in the United States. While living in Ohio in the early 1980s my wife and I accompanied our ward youths to the Washington D.C. Temple for baptisms. As we entered the baptismal area, the man in charge took all of the adult temple recommends. I noticed that he wore a red maple leaf on his white temple tie and I wondered if he was Canadian. When things quieted down a bit, I went up to him and asked him if he was from Canada. He looked right at me — he had my temple recommend with my name on it — and said, "Yes." He then said that not only was he from Canada but that he knew my mother and father, my grandparents and even how I got my name. It turns out he was also from Taber, and he and his wife were serving a temple mission. When I returned home, I called my mother and told her about meeting him. She said she wondered where he was because she had not seen him at the Cardston Alberta Temple in some time.Another experience was when my wife and I traveled to Scotland in 1995 to pick up one of our sons from his mission there. We stayed for a few nights at the temple accommodations near the London Temple. On the day we were leaving, our son was chatting with someone while my wife and I sat in the lobby of the apartment building. I could hear him talking but could not hear what was being said. He came in and told us that we had better come outside to meet someone. We did so and met a couple both wearing missionary badges and speaking with English accents. I did not recognize their names, but they introduced themselves, and the man said he was my mother's home teacher in Alberta. He and his wife had emigrated to Canada, moved to Taber and was assigned to home teach her. They also took a few of the widows from the ward, my mother included, to the Cardston Temple often.On a business trip to Europe, I had a weekend stopover in Stockholm, Sweden. I called the mission office and asked where the Stockholm Temple was located. I was told it was in a village called Vasterhanigen, a short train ride out of the city. I took the train there and was able to attend two endowment sessions. While I was in the cafeteria, I was surprised when the stake president who had called me to be a bishop in Ukiah, Calif., walked in. His name was Robert Knudsen. We had a very pleasant visit as I had not seen him in many years. He and his wife were serving a mission at the temple.When my wife was serving as stake Relief Society president in the Beaverton Oregon Stake, she was asked to provide a luncheon for a missionary meeting. I was helping her and the other sisters with the lunch. We were very surprised as Elder C. Scott Grow and his wife, Rhonda, entered the banquet hall. Elder Grow and I had served together in a bishopric in Springfield, Ore., many years before. We had a very nice reunion.Finally, I had just cleared customs and immigration in the Frankfurt, Germany, airport and was walking through to get a rental car when I saw two women sitting in the waiting area. On the seat between them was a copy of Gerald Lund's book "The Work and the Glory." As I passed by, I asked them if Joshua Steed would ever join the church. They were both surprised that someone would recognize the book, especially in Germany.— W. Howard Westhora, Beaverton, Ore.
Six years ago we traveled in Japan. We stopped in Takamatsu and met the Lowes, a senior missionary couple. They put us up for a night and we spent two days with them. To stay with them, we needed an air mattress to sleep on, and the senior couple borrowed one from the Brantleys in Takamatsu, who were there teaching English. We had no further contact with the Brantleys or the Lowes. A year and a half ago, we got called to the Japan Fukuoka mission.While we were serving in Nagasaki, our daughter, Tracy, learned that her roommate from Snow College was coming to Japan last December to visit her mother-in-law, who is teaching English now in Sasebo — our beloved Brother and Sister Priddis. We met them at the airport because they kindly brought us gifts for Christmas from Tracy. We have since become great friends with the Priddises. The Brantleys, who had since moved home and then to Hawaii, had not had contact with the senior missionary couple for a number of years. That Sunday, Brother Brantley got an "urge" to call the Lowes, their surrogate parents they had known in Japan. Sister Brantley was surprised to learn this beloved couple had decided to serve another mission and had just received a call to the Japan Fukuoka mission. The couple was called around July 24.Sister Brantley remembered her aunt was living in Japan and decided she had to tell Sister Priddis right away, so they made contact through Facebook. It was now Aug. 3.Sister Priddis sent us an e-mail right away to tell us we would be getting a new couple in our mission. Her e-mail said Walter and Patricia Lowe would arrive in Japan Fukuoka mission within the month. It mentioned they had served in Japan before.We were excited to hear this as our couples have been dwindling fast.But the name was familiar.My wife checked our address book she had copied from home, and sure enough, we had stayed two days with Walter and Patricia Lowe. We had an e-mail address.We called the president, and he was surprised to hear a couple was really coming because he had heard nothing still. We provided him with their e-mail address. Apparently in all this, only one couple — us — had their e-mail address. Our office sister sent off an immediate e-mail and got an instant reply.Yes, the Lowes were coming. They went into the MTC Aug. 10 and were scheduled to arrive on Aug. 17, just nine days away. The Lowes had been told to not make contact with the mission but to wait until the mission contacted them.Somewhere in all this, the mission had received no word from Salt Lake.They were totally unexpected and would not have been contacted by the mission. — Art Healy, Nagasaki, Japan
When I was 17, I went to Especially for Youth in Edmonton, Alberta. It was my first time going to EFY, and it was a grand experience. Most of us were from Canada, except one individual, Logan Cleaver, who was from some small town in Washington. He stood out, not just because he was American, but because he was absolutely hilarious. In the months after EFY, we kept in contact but later lost touch. When I turned 19, I was called on a mission and went to the MTC, a foreign place to me. I remember standing in line to get my meal with my companion. When I heard a familiar voice telling funnies, I looked behind me and who should it be but Elder Cleaver! We looked at each other as we pieced where we knew each other from. We embraced, caught up and wished each other luck on our individual missions. It was nice to see someone from my "EFY Class" at the MTC because it meant that we had made it this far.While on my mission, I was teaching a recent convert in my last area. The girl had joined, while her parents and brother hadn't. She was a truly amazing individual. The family asked, "Where are you from?" I said I was from Winnipeg, Manitoba. They responded that they had just moved from there. They asked me what part, and I said Charleswood. Them, too. I thought it was odd that we were both from the same city, same community. I asked them what street, and their response was "Berkley." "No way," I said. "I am the street over!" Here we were, now living in Australia, the other side of the world from Winnipeg. We had never met in Winnipeg despite living only a block apart. And now here I was teaching their daughter the gospel. It was odd that we both had to travel that far in order to meet.— Joshua K. Lockhart, North Battleford, Saskatchewan
I graduated from BYU in August 1992 and moved with my wife and daughter to Monterey, Calif., to start graduate school. That following summer (1993), I took the two of them to Italy where I had served my mission a few years before. Ours was a whirlwind trip done on a shoestring budget. While in the famous Piazza della Signoria in Florence surrounded by many other vacationers, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and was shocked to see my Italian professor from BYU. He was there with a small group of students for a trip abroad. He'd recognized me in the crowd and had taken time to come greet me. What a shock it was to see a familiar face from America so far from home.— Ammon Stotts, Frederick, Colo.
My wife and I have always been great supporters of the missionaries in our area. One of the best was from Tonga. A few years later, we took my mother-in-law, who is not a member, to her first and only trip to Hawaii. Of course, we went to the Polynesian Cultural Center, and the show was great. I thought that one sister was particularly energetic in her waves to the crowd. Imagine my mother-in-law's surprise when, after the show, this returned missionary ran up to us and called out our names. We hugged and cried with joy upon seeing her again. That was the grist for many a happy story when my wife's mother returned to her home in Berlin, Germany.Once, without having clue where the other was, we ran smack-dab into a first cousin in the Athens, Greece, International Airport. We were living only 10 miles apart in California. We moved into our present ward 32 years ago and reconnected with six BYU friends I had lost contact with — two former roommates and a former girl friend.My companion and I tracted out another of my first cousins 55 years ago in San Antonio, Texas.— Reid May, Saratoga, Calif.
__IMAGE3__In the 1960s, I was at the Boy Scout World Jamboree in northern Idaho. I was there as a weekend visitor and attended LDS services. In the first meeting, the conductor, President Smith of the Young Men organization, inquired by geographical areas and by show of hands where each Scout was from. As he progressed beyond North America, he asked for a show of hands from the rest of the world. One hand went up, and the person introduced himself as from the Netherlands. I took note of where he was and between meetings I located him and found that he was the youngest son of Bishop LeFrandt, whom I had known while I was a missionary. Another incident just happened just recently when I was on a vacation cruise tour of Vancouver, B.C., and Alaska. In the Buchart Gardens of Victoria, I saw in the seed store a display of a water fountain in a pond surrounded by rocks and three bronze statues. I asked the cashier if she could box it up and ship it to Riverton, Utah. A woman with her children overheard this and told me that she had once lived in South Jordan, which borders Riverton. She had moved there to live on Vancouver Island. Then while I was aboard the MS Rhyndam ship at Hubbard Glacier, the ship took on board three adult men who were Tlingit Indians who told about their culture in a program. Two of these men were father and son. At the conclusion, I approached the father for more questions, but before I could ask, a woman who was with her daughter asked him what church he belonged to, and he answered by saying he belonged to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She then asked if he was an elder or high priest. He responded that he was a high priest, so there we were, the five of us all Mormons. A few days later, we were in Fairbanks and took a paddlewheel boat ride down a river. We we stopped at an Athapaskan Village and were permitted to walk through. Two teenage girls were taking turns at various spots explaining things of their culture. The first was asked by someone in the audience if she had ever lived outside of Alaska, and she responded that she once lived with a grandfather in Utah. I remained and asked if she was LDS, and she replied that she and her sisters indeed were. Finally, as I was returning home aboard an airplane from Fairbanks to Seattle, I was sitting in the middle seat and noticed the woman by the window seat was using her iPod to read, I glanced over and saw on her iPod the names Jarom and Omni — once again, I found myself by another Mormon.— Donald Lee Eastman, Riverton, Utah
I am now living in Silver Spring, Md., attending the Olney 1st Ward. A few years ago, we had a missionary named Elder Brague. I mentioned to him that when I attended BYU (1970-74) I had a James Brague and his wife as our BYU ward parents. They were his father and mother. At the time Elder Brague was in our ward, his father was the head of the music department at BYU-Idaho. — Ernest Dixon, Silver Spring, Md.
I was on a business assignment in Duluth, Minn., most of the summer of 2009. I attended meetings the first Sunday I was there and introduced myself in Relief Society. A young woman sitting in front of me turned around and said, "My grandmother was a Duffin from Utah. She used to mention a Zella, Zelda 'a feisty lady.'" I replied that she had to have meant my own grandmother, Zelma Duffin, a queen among women. Nicole Crabtree, the young woman, asked if her grandmother Elaine and my grandmother were sisters. I told her that my grandmother was an only daughter and that she married into the Duffin line, in any case. But I assured Nicole that I'd go online after work the following evening and figure out how we were related. I was so excited to find a relative in a place so distant from my home and roots! I shared the story the next day with the class I was teaching and they were equally amazed. I used FamilySearch.org to trace Nicole's lineage and mine back to our common ancestor, Isaac Duffin. I am four generations removed and Nicole is five generations. I shared this with my class the next day and with the Relief Society and Nicole the following Sunday. Out of this chance meeting came an opportunity to explain a bit about the church to my class and to demonstrate FamilySearch.org to them. One of the women in the class came to church with me later in the summer, accepted a Book of Mormon, and began reading it right away. The missionaries met her at church, and I hope they have been to visit her since to offer her all the blessings of the gospel. It was a long summer away from home, but I am confident the Lord had a purpose for my being there.— Anne Duffin, Salt Lake City
In 1965, I was a freshman at BYU, living in Merrill Hall in Helaman Halls. The dorm had a Big Sister program, and Ann Simmons was assigned to be my big sister. She was a wonderful friend that year. I was from Las Vegas, and she was from back East. In 1977, my husband, Vae Don Smith, 2 daughters, and I moved to Beaverton, Ore., where my husband attended dental school. Ann and her husband, Tim Chandler, lived right down the street from us, and we became great friends again and watched each other's children over the next four years. In 1992, our second daughter, Heidi, married a boy from Salem, Ore., and Ann and Tim drove to Salem to the wedding reception. Our third daughter, Heather, who had been born in Portland, Ore., while we lived there, married in 1995. She and her husband, Marcus, spent part of their honeymoon in Oregon and attended a session in the Portland Temple. There at the front desk was Tim Chandler, and he quickly called Ann to tell her that Heather and Marcus had just come to the temple. I am so grateful our paths have crossed over and over in this life, and we still keep in touch through Christmas cards. — Maureen Smith, Las Vegas
There we were, sitting in a chapel in Lagos, Nigeria, West Africa, surrounded by black faces, when we spotted a Caucasian man entering. We immediately went over to talk to him and found out that his name was Chris Fowler and that he lives in Cedar Hills, Utah County, Utah — a very small town, indeed. He was in Nigeria on business. Not only did he know our daughter, but he lived in her ward and they were co-nursery leaders. — La Mat D. Griggs, Salt Lake City
Last summer, I made a 6,000-plus mile "grand tour" of several LDS historical sites which I had never seen before, including the Wyoming handcart sites, Winter Quarters, Independence and Kirtland.While visiting Nauvoo, I had the opportunity to do a session one morning in the Nauvoo Temple. Whenever I visit a temple for the first time, I make it a point to get clear directions everywhere along the way, so as not to get lost. After finishing my session, I walked out into a hall, which ran the width of the temple, and could not see anybody else around. I said a quick prayer, asking that someone would show up to help me find my way back to the dressing room. Within three seconds, who should come walking around the corner at the opposite end of the hall but Derrell Foote, my former stake president from Morgan Hill, Calif. — 2,000 miles away? He and his wife are presently serving a mission in Nauvoo — something I didn't know. He directed me toward the dressing room and also directed me how to get down to view the baptismal font — something that I otherwise would not have seen on my journey.— Sasha Bill Kwapinski, Morgan Hill, Calif.
Several years ago, I traveled from Utah to Syracuse, N.Y., to attend meetings for work. My boss told me that when I was at the meetings in the home office of our company that I should look for a certain woman who was a Relief Society president in her ward there. My co-worker friend and I were lucky enough to find her and meet her. My boss also told me that I just had to take a side trip to Palmyra since I would be so close. My friend and I did just that on our last day in New York. As we entered the visitor's center in Palmyra, we met a young sister missionary. She found out why we were there and the name of our company. She then asked us if we knew her aunt who worked in the home office. Yes, it was none other than this woman we had met a few days before. The ironic thing is, this young missionary had moved from the West and lived with her aunt for a year or so to work at our company's home office. Then she decided to serve a mission. All her co-workers thought it would be neat if she could serve right there in New York, and that is exactly what happened. The coincidences made for a very fun trip. — Lesley Walker, Sandy, Utah
Twenty-six years ago, about three weeks after I returned home to my very small branch in Watertown, N.Y., from the Belgium Brussels Mission, I was assigned a home teaching companion who had been on his mission 10 years ago in Singapore.As we were getting acquainted, he said, "I baptized a Belgian lady in Singapore."I said, "A tall lady with red hair?"Through his stunned look he said, "Yes."I said, "I wouldn't have known except that last testimony meeting in the Brussels Ward, a sister bore her testimony and said that she had been baptized in Singapore."— Keith T. Donovan, Mansfield, Texas
Several summers ago, my husband and I were traveling in Switzerland. Late one evening, we checked into our favorite little hotel in Lauterbrunen, a small village nestled in the Jung Frau mountain range. The next morning, we went down for breakfast and overheard the conversation of two women sitting next to us. They were Americans and the first we had seen in days. We introduced ourselves and discovered that they were a mother and a daughter traveling together. They asked where we were from. We said Pennsylvania, since we have lived there for 22 years — even though we were both natives of Utah. In return, we asked them where they were from. The daughter said she was from Washington state and her mother was from Utah. Immediately, our ears perked up and we asked where she was from in Utah. The daughter said Brigham City. With a smile, I told her mother I was from Cache Valley. We then started talking, and lo and behold, we made a connection. This woman's son and my cousin had become acquainted while my cousin served as the mission president in New England.We couldn't help but laugh as we enjoyed our breakfast that morning in a remote village in the tops of the Alps.— Marty Bennett, Strasburg, Pa.
In April 2007, I was in Normandy, France, with several members of my family. We had spent the day visiting several of the World War II D-Day invasion beaches. We concentrated most of our time at Omaha Beach reliving the events of that day — June 6, 1944. We were accompanied by a retired English Army Officer, who was most helpful in our understanding those events. We arrived at the nearby American Cemetery, where my son-in-law, who was a Vietnam veteran. and another veteran from World War II assisted in the retiring of the colors. In our conversation later with this gentleman, who now lives in Cincinnati, we learned that he was raised in Rexburg, Idaho, about 15 milles from my home. I did not know him, but did know his father, who was superintendent of schools in Rexburg. It's a long distance from Rexburg, Idaho, to the American Cemetery in Normandy, France, and I surely didn't expect to find a friend there. — Rose Marie French, Idaho Falls, Idaho