ROAD TRIP and SPIRITUAL QUEST

      Wow! Nineteen. I could hardly believe it. Where had all the years gone? Age nineteen was a landmark year that I had been looking forward to ever since I was a young man. You see, I was now old enough to serve a two-year mission for my church. But first I would need to visit with my ecclesiastical leader and submit my paperwork to church headquarters in Salt Lake City.

   
      I had just spent the summer working for a sign company in Southern California. My mission interview took place at the Stake President’s home in Burbank. Shortly after leaving his home I had a fair idea where I was to be called on my mission. During my interview he had asked me if there were areas where I would like to serve. I named off several comfortable vacation spots and he was onto other important questions. The interview went great.      Just as I was reaching for the door knob to leave the Stake President unexpectedly asked, “Is there anywhere you would not like to serve?” Of course the best answer was, “No. I’ll serve where I’m called.” My mind flashed back to a letter I’d received from my good friend Bruce Cameron, who was serving on the Navajo Indian Reservation in New Mexico. He was constantly finding his vehicles stuck in the mud, being jarred by washboard roads, digging graves, putting up with drunks, and much more! Without really thinking I replied, “Maybe the Navajo Reservation.” I don’t remember him saying anything as I left his office.

      I had made some friends while working in California, but spent a good deal of my spare time at Forrest Lawn Cemetery in Glendale. It was a beautiful, peaceful setting to study my Scriptures in their gardens and small meditation chapels. A great place for missionary preparation!

"Wee Kirk o Heather" Meditation Chapel and gardens at Forest Lawn Cemetery, Glendale, CA

      Paul Evans was about to leave for South Africa. Dave Beck was in Brazil, and all the Ash Avenue boys and friends from High School had left on missions to the four corners of the earth. Being the youngest of the bunch, I was the last to go. I had finished my summer job working for the sign company in Glendale and was ready to leave on a ten-day “spiritual quest.” I removed the back rest on the passenger’s side of Dad’s red VW bug and made a comfortable place to sleep.

Francis Max and the red VW Bug.

    Then I was off driving up the Pacific Coast Highway. I would most often find a church parking lot to safely spend the night. Sometimes I was awakened before daylight by the loud chatter of students walking through the parking lot on their way to early morning seminary.

Pacific Coast Highway (101) along the Oregon Coast.

      Driving up the Oregon and Washington coast was incredibly beautiful! One evening at sunset I was awestruck by the celestial nature of the scene. Pink mist floated in over turquoise blue water and lightly surrounded the lonely pines perched precariously on steep cliffs. It was as if I could step out and walk through the clouds!

Sunset along Oregon Coast on Pacific Coast Highway (101).

      I was constantly turning to tell someone how magnificent it was and how it made me feel, but there was no one there. I realized then that no matter how great life is, or how inspiring or beautiful your surroundings are, if you can’t share it with someone the experience isn’t complete!

Empress Hotel, Victoria, Vancouver Island, Canada.

      From there I took a ferry to Victoria on Canada’s Vancouver Island. After enjoying the historic sights of the Island on a carriage ride around Victoria, I was off again traveling through more unbelievable scenery and taking in the wonders of Banff and Lake Louise on my way to Calgary, Alberta.

Lake Louise at Banff National Park, Canada

     The rolling hills of Calgary had their own attraction, but nothing like the high rugged mountain peaks I had passed along the way.

Rolling hill country of Alberta, Canada

     When I pulled into an LDS Stake Center for the night I found the parking lot completely full. It seemed the evening session of Stake Conference was in full swing. Elder Monson, a newly appointed Apostle was the guest General Authority. I was excited. I loved Elder Monson. His talks were always entertaining as well as inspiring. When Conference ended I noticed a small crowd lining up to shake hands with him. I had nowhere else to go so I eagerly joined them. As the line became shorter I reflected on the experiences others had confided to me as they looked into the eyes of an Apostle of God. It was like looking into the eyes of the Savior Himself. They could feel the love of the Savior surrounding them. I was looking forward to the experience. It would be an important part of my spiritual quest.

Elder Thomas S. Monson.

      When the moment finally arrived, I grasped Elder Monson’s large hand with anxious anticipation. But before we could even make eye contact the gentleman behind me, obviously a close friend Elder Monson had worked with while Mission President in Canada, caught his attention and they began conversing excitedly. Soon I felt Elder Monson’s hand leading me past him. The experience was a letdown. A huge disappointment! I wandered back to my seat, wondering what had just happened. Wasn’t the Lord aware of my spiritual quest? Didn’t He know how important this would be to me? Looking back I should not have let go of Elder Monson’s hand until he realized I was still waiting for his attention.

President Gordon B. Hinckley.

       In later years I would have that special experience while looking into the loving eyes of President Kimball and President Hinckley. When President Monson was sustained as the new Prophet of the LDS Church I had a strong personal witness that he was God’s representative on earth. Each time I hear him speak that feeling is reaffirmed.

Glacier National Park, Montana.

     The next day I turned south driving through Glacier National Park and Coeur D’Alene, Idaho. Having witnessed some of the most inspiring sights in North America I was heading home ending my spiritual quest and “ready to be translated.”

Couer d'Alaine, Idaho.

      After my return home when people would ask, “Where do you think you will be called on your mission?” I would reply, “The Indian Reservation, of course!” Guess what! I was right.

Mission Call letter signed by President David O. McKay. Oct. 15, 1964.

 

      Opening my Mission Call letter with wide-eyed family gathered around, there it was in black and white, signed by President David O. McKay: The Southwest Indian Mission. Look out Elder Cameron, I’m coming to join you!