A conference miracle

The spring and fall general conferences of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints are among my favorite times of the year. They are like having two extra Christmases every year.

For a number of years in the 1980s and 90s a group of us with ties to Brazil would meet on Temple Square and attend conference together in the Tabernacle. Our group at times included Mike Bertasso, Doug Holt, Arlen Woofinden, and me. The four of us had served as missionaries in the Brazil North Mission. Wives sometimes participated, particularly those who traveled from out of state. As the years progressed, a number of our children also joined the group.

Our tradition rather fell apart after the new Conference Center opened in April 2000. At the Tabernacle we all had priesthood leader or companion tickets and could sit with each other for any session we wanted as long as we found each other and waited together in the same line. Once the Conference Center opened, our passes were for particular sessions, and we had to enter through different doors and sit in wholly different sections. It was hard to coordinate our being together anymore.

One year Mike Bertasso and I had a touching experience while waiting to get into the Taber­nacle before the Sunday morning session of the October 1993 conference. Even though we had arrived by 7:45, fif­teen minutes earlier than on Satur­day morning, we had to get in the line outside the north gate of Temple Square and there was some doubt about whether we'd get inside the Tabernacle. It was a brisk autumn morning.

Two ladies from Clinton, in the northern part of Davis County, were standing behind us in the line. As it became in­creasingly uncertain that we'd get in, even though we all had priest­hood leader or partner tickets, the ladies made some com­ment about how the origi­nal two people in our group had grown to about ten or twelve people, and they hoped we weren't the last ones let in. We had them get in front of us, and as we visited with them found out they had never been to a general conference before and they said, with­out ever revealing why, that it was critically important that they get in.

One of the ladies was a sister to Kent Hood, the bishop in the 36th Ward in our stake who had died of cancer. My brother Kay and his family lived in Bishop Hood's ward.

When it became very clear that we would not get in, Mike and I walked over to the head usher, Gary, whom we'd be­come acquainted with over the years as we'd come to conference to­gether, and explained the situation and asked if there were any way he could get the two sisters in. After the session had started, Gary asked each of the approxi­mately fifty people in front of us if they'd mind if these two ladies went in to the two remain­ing seats he had inside. No one ob­jected, so he took them in, and their tears and gratitude compen­sated fully for our not getting in.

They found us after the session and gave us big hugs and, with tears streaming down their cheeks, thank­ed us again for help­ing them get in. It was a wonderful experience, far more than this rough account of the experience begins to convey.

A few weeks later I published the following thought in the October 25, 1993, Family Journal: "Elder Neal A. Maxwell has writ­ten, 'The very usefulness of our lives depends upon our willingness to serve others' (Even as I Am, 62). . . .

"This past week I saw another ful­fillment of that true principle. A couple weeks ago I reported an expe­rience Mike Bertasso and I had the Sunday morning of general con­fe­rence while waiting to get into the Tabernacle. By talking to the head usher, we were able to help two ladies from Clinton get into the morning session. One of those ladies, Marsha Hamble­ton, sent me a nice thank-you letter this past week:

"Dear Brother Cleverly,

"I wanted to send you a note to thank you for your great kindness, rendered to myself and my friend this past conference.

"I am one of the two ladies you helped get into the Tabernacle on Sun­day morning of general confe­rence.

"I can't begin to tell you the great impact of your service. We were to attend that particular session of con­ference under divine instruction. Little did we know just how divine it would be. Though I can't share with you the details of why we were to attend that conference, I will tell you that if it hadn't been for you and your associates we would not have been able to enter.

"The work of the Lord is in full force and sometimes a simple act of service and sacrifice can mean a great deal to someone. That particu­lar morning you did an act of service which meant the changing of a heart.

"I can't express the gratitude we felt. As we sat in that con­ference with tears stream­ing down our faces how thankful we were to the strang­ers still waiting in line out­side. The Lord, personally, had you and your friends help with that task that morn­ing to meet both a promise and a gift of love. You will never know the ex­tent of your kind­ness, but believe that on that morning you and your friends were serving the Master.

"Thank you for being the kind of men that can feel the Spirit and then respond to it. Thank you for being the kind of men that the Savior would guide and direct. Thank you for your rescue!

"Thank you again for your great act of kindness. It will never be for­gotten, neither by me, my friend, nor by the Lord. You were truly an instrument in His hands that day.

"Please extend our gratitude to all involved. God bless you always.

"Isn't it wonderful how the Lord focuses on little details, on quiet whisperings of the Spirit that nudge us to be in the right spot at the right time, on simple impres­sions to be doing some little thing for another person, on incred­ible little coinci­dences that are a part of His divine tapestry."