So I'm sitting in the LA Temple at the Baptismal Recommend Desk where all the people come in to do baptisms for the dead, and there's a brother about my age sitting in the lobby area near me waiting for some of his group to come out. We're just making small talk when he says my name looks familiar and asks if I ever lived in Fullerton. I tell him my parents did when I was born and he says, "Your dad blessed me when I was a baby". Turns out his dad had been inactive and was just starting to come to church again when he was born, and his father asked dad to bless him since he couldn't yet.
On top of that, it turns out he lives in Frazier Park just a short way from Carline's family and was at Eddie and Carline's wedding reception. Carline, his last name is Evens.
This is the third time since I started working at the Temple last November that a total stranger to me has recognized my name and had some story to tell me about how dad had an impact for good on their lives.
6 degrees of separation, again
6 comments:
What a neat story and another example of how our good works can be quiet and far reaching. And it's only 2 degrees of separation I've decided.... 6 is far too generous.
His daughter, Terri, lives in Saratoga Springs and just came over last Saturday to visit Carline. Matix had a great time playing with her son.
While I was sleeping, both of them upstairs to play in the spare room and Matix tried to bring him into my room but couldn't open the door. They struggled with getting the door open and after they gave up, Matix started to yell, "Eddie... EDDIE" with his mouth against the crack of the door.
Oh my gosh! That is crazy! The man you blessed was the Bishop of the Frazier Park ward for many many years. He was in the Stake Presidency after that. You blessed someone that turned out to be very strong in the gospel and a great father.
grandpa was a good man!
I actually have the same thing happen quite often (must be the name), even away from LA. People tell me amazing stories. In fact, I had a friend serving a mission in Indonesia a few years ago and I sent her a letter which had to be relayed through the Mission President's Wife. When she handed the friend my letter she asked how she knew Gordon Risser's grandson. My friend explained that we met while at school and the Mission Mom started crying. She said "Gordon Risser Sr. was one of the best men I've ever known in my life." It was Sister Larsen (Gary Larsen's Wife) from the Solemint Ward.
This name thing follows me everywhere, in fact, COC refuses to drop a 1972 print shop class from my transcript, even though I was born in 1976.
I'm having a hard time finding words to express how touched I am by Gordon's story and the following comments. Our father's touch reached farther than any of us will ever know (at least in this life).
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