I met some old neighbors the other day, and was reminded once again of all the wonderful people who have passed through my life. How I hope I will have the blessing of associating with these wonderful people some day in Heaven.
These particular friends moved into our neighborhood when our kids were young. They had lots of sons, which made the girls in the area very happy. Their older sons had already grown, served missions for our church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and were settling down. Their middle sons were preparing to serve missions soon, but their youngest son, Joseph, was still little. In fact, he was just a few months older than Kami.
One day, not long after they moved in, Joseph came down to our house to play. Moe was outside, working, and enjoyed getting to know the little boy.
“What's your name?” he asked him.
“Joseph.”
“Joseph,” Moe repeated thoughtfully. “That's a great name. Maybe you'll grow up to be a prophet, just like Joseph Smith.”
Joseph gave Moe a disgusted look. “I don't want to grow up to be a prophet,” he told Moe firmly.
“Then what are you going to be?” Moe teased.
“A missionary, of course,” Joseph stated, “like my brothers.”
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