My dear brothers and sisters, Aloha! I am grateful to have this opportunity to share with you my thoughts. Sister Cochran and I have loved our experience here more than we can ever express. We count this mission as one of our greatest blessings.
When I was growing up, food markets would advertise a shopping spree where you would have so much time to race through the store and put as much as you could get into your shopping cart. I used to dream of winning such a contest. I would plan how I would get the most for the limited time allowed. I would go for the most expensive meats, steaks, and hams.
There was a comedy show called Lavern and Shirley. One of their episodes had them winning such a contest at a local grocery store. The show depicted them arguing over what to pick or choose. It was hilarious. Shirley would put something in the cart, and Lavern would throw it out. They tugged on the cart, wanting to go down different aisles of the store. Suddenly, the bell sounded, meaning they had one minute left. They panicked and started running for the checkout stand. They fell across the finish line with one item in their cart: a box of macaroni and cheese.
One day while thinking back on this episode, I suddenly realized that we all have an opportunity to participate in this activity. When we were born, we each received a shopping cart. As we go through life, we can place things in our cart. At the end of life, we will pass through the checkout stand called death. There is the moment of truth. There we will see how wise a shopper we have been.
I would like to share with you some of the things I have put in my cart.
Now and then, I reflect on the tender mercies Heavenly Father has so kindly done for me. It would be very hard to pick the greatest blessing I have received. However, as I contemplated this idea, I have decided that being chosen to be a son of God must top the list. As a youth, my friends and I would choose sides to play street baseball or street football. How I wanted to be chosen. Whether I said it out loud or not, I must have screamed from my heart “pick me, pick me!” Being picked gave you worth and, at least for those moments, some importance.
As God viewed the vast intelligences from whom he would pick or select those who would become his spiritual sons and daughters, I have wondered what he saw in me. I think I must have cried in my heart “pick me, pick me!” For whatever reason, he did. I would be born a spirit son of God.
Things would even get better. Later, he would pick me again to be a part of a select group who would have important assignments on the earth. I must have felt an overwhelming joy at being chosen to be what was termed “the noble and the great.” God said, “[I will] prove them here with, to see if they will do all things … and they who keep their first estate shall be added upon” (Abr. 3:25-26).
Again I ask the question, what did God see in me? Whatever it was he saw in me, he saw it in you. We must have done some good things and kept our first estate because here we are in the most exciting of times with the opportunity to do so much good. I consider it my greatest blessing to be Robert Henry Cochran, son of God. I have put a copy of my patriarchal blessing in my cart. It reminds me of who I am and what I can become. I would like to share carefully one line of my blessing. It says, “He will hear and answer your every prayer.” How special does that make me feel. I love knowing who I am.
A second item in my cart is my marriage certificate. This represents my best friend who also is my eternal companion. I cannot express enough gratitude for her being brought by Heavenly Father into my life. Before my mission, I went to a fireside in Cleveland Ohio where three members of a musical group spoke. Each bore his testimony that they knew their future wives by the Spirit when they met them. I determined that I wanted that to be my story. I wanted the Spirit to tell me “there she is.” I wanted to know it was her when I saw her. I prayed occasionally about it on my mission and after I returned home.
It was now December, and I had been home four months from my mission, and the Spirit had not pointed to anyone. I was getting discouraged and downright worried. Where was she and where would I have to go to find her? It was the Sunday before Christmas. I had been asked to speak in Sacrament meeting. I was sitting on the stand, thinking about my talk, and wondering where my wife was. Little did I know that in a few minutes, my world would change forever. I looked up from my talk to see Linda Kemppel walking in the back of the chapel with her mother. I had met Linda when she was investigating the church. She was baptized the day I had left on my mission. She had left the area to attend Snow College and BYU–Provo. I had no contact with her nor had I thought of her once on my mission. Now I could not take my eyes off of her. As I looked at her, the Spirit poured into me from my head to my toes. I was unsure why this feeling had come. I did not want to stare at her, so I looked away, and the feeling left. I could not resist and looked at her again, and again the Spirit poured into my soul. This happened several times. Suddenly, I got the message: the Spirit was saying, “There she is.” Could this be? Was I looking at my future wife? Yes, I was.
As soon as sacrament meeting was over, I hurried down to talk to her. After a brief hello, I asked, “Do you remember me?” She was polite and said yes, but her eyes said no. I asked her to attend a fireside with me in Cleveland. She kindly indicated she could not go. What? Did she not feel the Spirit as I did? She indicated that she needed to go home with her mother to decorate the Christmas tree. I pleaded my case with her mother, who, to my great joy, told her that she should go with me. Linda looked at her mom as if to say, “You’re supposed to have my back, not serve me up on a platter.”
We went on that first date, at least I considered it such. I must have done something right because on the drive home, she consented to a second date. Two dates later, she would be headed back to BYU on New Year’s Day. I had to act fast. I asked her to the New Year’s Eve dance at church. She consented. Maybe she was feeling the same Spirit I was. That evening, we danced, and I was consumed by her beauty. I danced her into the foyer, and there in the soft light from the street lamp (I wished it was moon light but whatever), I said to her what I mocked others in saying: “I think you are the one.” I did not give her time to say anything. I kissed her. We danced the rest of the night like a Disney fairytale. She left to return to Provo the next day.
She had been gone about two weeks, and I was gently coming down from my cloud when I realized that I had asked a girl to marry me who I had been on only three dates with and really didn’t know. What if she was a vegetarian? I love steak! What if she didn’t like Motown? I love the Temptations! What had I done?
Now instead of love, I felt shear panic. I called my Bishop and told him I had to see him. We met, and he asked what was wrong. “I think I’m in love,” I said. He laughed. I said, “No, there’s more. I think I asked her to marry me.” Now he said, “You could be in trouble. She may sue you for a breach of promise if you do not follow through.” He could tell I was not laughing. “Well,” he said, “What can I do to help?” “I need a blessing,” I responded. “Ok,” he said, “I can do that.” He began a sweet blessing. Heavenly Father loves you, he said. After a few more words, he just stopped and did not say anything. What was wrong? My mind was racing for answers. Soon, however, he began to speak again. As he did, the Spirit flooded the room. I could tell my bishop was choked up. However, his voice became strong as he said, “Let your heart be at peace, for you have found your companion, and you shall take her to the Celestial Kingdom, but she is not ready to know. Be patient, and you will know when to tell her.” I rushed home and called her in Provo. I said, “Linda, I know something you don’t know.” She said, “What is it?” I said, “I can’t tell you.” “Not fair,” she said, “Not fair.”
We communicated by phone and letter. Then finally, she returned home in spring. We began dating, and the day came when the Spirit said, “You can tell her everything.” As I told her all I felt and the words of the blessing, tears came to her eyes, and she said, “I know what you know, and I know it’s true.” She accepted a ring and my official proposal of marriage. We were married on October 4 for time and all eternity in the beautiful Manti Utah Temple. A sweeter love story no one could ask for. I am waiting for Disney to call and ask if they can make our love story into a movie. Our love story is the kind of stuff dreams are made of.
I delight in telling it because I believe Heavenly Father loves love stories. I believe He wants all of His children to have a love story of their own. Your love story will be the way you need it. Every love story is a little different because we are different. However, true love stories all have some things in common. They all involve obedience, staying on the path, and the ability to hear and respond to the Spirit. Be the right person, be at the right place doing the right thing, and God will do the rest. There is a love story with your name on it. Live worthy to receive it.
No one could have told me what the next 41 years would be with her at my side. I wish I had my own description of her, but I will use the words President James E. Faust used in describing his wife: She is the wind beneath my wings. All that I have done or become is because of her belief and encouragement. I never knew you could love someone as I love her.
The third treasure in my cart is our children, each one so special, so unique. Each with value more precious than the riches of the earth. These children have given us wonderful grandchildren. I can truly say that if I did not believe that I could be with my family in the eternities, heaven would hold little interest for me.
The fourth thing I have put in my cart is a piece of wood from a tree in the sacred grove. I know there are signs forbidding taking items out of the grove, but I promise there were no such signs when I took this piece of bark. This bark brings back a sacred memory of the day I spent in prayer in the grove, seeking a testimony, even as Enos so many years ago. I was not going on a mission. I spent the whole day telling the Lord why I didn’t need to serve a mission, but the Lord told me otherwise. The testimony gained that day sent my life in a new direction and on a mission to Ireland. That day with God in the sacred grove is precious beyond words to me. I want to remember it forever.
Another thing I put in is a kaleidoscope. I enjoyed this amazing toy as a child. It was while on our mission to Virginia that the mission president’s wife, Sister Thornock, used this toy to teach a powerful lesson. Sister Thornock explained that a kaleidoscope has two ends through which you could look. If you looked through one end and rotated it, beautiful ever-changing designs could be seen. If you looked through the other end, a dark, frosted picture with no color or beauty could be seen. She likened this to how we looked at things in this life. Looking through the eyes of the Spirit, we see the beauty and good in people and situations. When looking through the right end, missionary companions did not see faults in each other. Equally husbands and wives did not see things which irritated but rather the good in the other. The Spirit of God is like a kaleidoscope. When looking through the eyes of the Spirit, we see good in others and stepping stones in challenges. It makes all the difference in life which end you look through. I have tried to look at life through the correct end and have seen much beauty in things, experiences, and people. It is easy to see the beauty in the students of BYU–Hawaii. Your beauty shines in the light of the gospel. Indeed, with the Spirit, everything is beautiful.
I have placed my extra missionary name tag in my cart. It is hard to explain the feeling of bearing the Savior’s name before the world. I often wish it would never end. As we ride the bus or walk in stores, I see people glance at the tag. Some look down or look away. Some smile, and some indicate they are members also. There is such an amazing feeling to have the Savior’s name on you. Sometimes, we need to be reminded that it was placed on us at our baptism. Satan tries hard to make you forget you have it on. When we do forget, we often do foolish things.
While sitting with my wife on a stone wall at the PCC, we had a girl of about 14 years come up to us with her brother and say, “You are missionaries, aren’t you?” I was a little surprised. We had our PCC nametags on, not our black missionary tags. “I could tell you are,” she said, “I could tell.” I wondered how she could tell, but the fact that she said so thrilled me. That experience placed a strong desire in my heart. Whether we had on missionary nametags or not, I hoped others might see and even say, “You’re missionaries aren’t you.” While at the PCC, a beautiful Asian couple asked what I thought was to take a picture of them. “No,” he said, “We want a picture of you and her [Sister Cochran].” After the picture, I asked, “Why a picture of us?” “Because you look so happy.” That is another way people can be drawn to us, our happiness in the gospel, which transfers to happiness with life.
I have two other items in my cart. They are two small missionary journals, hand-written by my father from his mission in the southern states. It is my link with him. When I read them, his words speak to me as if he were here. He tells of a time when he and his companion were street-corner preaching. This was done when they selected a street corner, and one of the missionaries would stand on a wood box and preach a sermon, declaring that God had called a prophet, and the true church of Jesus Christ had been restored to the earth. The other missionary would hand out tracks, pamphlets, or copies of the Book of Mormon.
My father had worn holes in the bottoms of his shoes and had been using cardboard inside, so his socks did not get holes. He had no money for a new pair of shoes. He wrote in his journal of a day they had been street-corner preaching. A man stood off to the side. As my father finished, the man walked up and said, “See that shoe store over there? That’s my store. Come over and pick out a pair of shoes for free.” My father rejoiced knowing that the Lord loved and took care of His missionaries as He does all His children. I am taking to heaven that sweet memory as told by my father who is now gone. Someday, I will see my father again and will ask him to tell me the story again of street preaching and a free pair of shoes.
I also have a small, thatched-roof cottage in my cart, given to me by a family I baptized on my mission in Ireland and the Isle of Man. It reminds me of a precious miracle that happened after my mission.
From the moment I arrived in Ireland, my desire, hope, and dream was for my father and mother to be able to see the beauties of that country. My parents were not well off financially, and the possibility of them coming to pick me up at the close of my mission was not very great. To my great surprise and joy, my parents saved enough money to come to Ireland and “pick me up.” What a glorious two weeks we had as I took them to see castles and such. But the miracle was not in their coming. It was what happened when they came. My father had suffered from a disease which rendered him legally blind. My mother would often say, “It would be useless for your father to come to Ireland, for he could see little of the beauties you speak of.” But they came, and while they were there, my father’s vision greatly improved. He was able to see and enjoy so much. I rejoiced, for it was my prayer that my parents could see what I had seen. Upon returning home, his vision worsened and returned to how it was before the journey. Every time I see this small cottage, I think upon the miracle in Ireland. I thank God my father could see as I prayed he could. It is a tender mercy I treasure and will take to heaven with me.
One of the sweetest things in my cart is a letter I have written to a teacher I had at BYU–Provo. His name was Dr. Douglas Gibb. He was a communications teacher, and I enjoyed several classes from him. I was nearing the end of my master’s program and faced a huge comprehensive test. The test would ask four questions from which you could pick three. You had a ream of paper placed in front of you and as many writing utensils as you brought with you. You began at 9:00 AM and wrote nonstop until noon. Your fingers would ache from the writing. There would be a one-hour lunch break. You then began the process over until 4:00 PM. I feared most the statistical questions, as that was my weakest area. I felt relief as I finished the exam. My relief soon ended when I received the results. I had been qualified based on my answer on the stat question. Now, I faced going before a board of four professors that could challenge me on anything I had studied over the last two years. I was given the opportunity to draw from a container the names of the professors who would sit on my board. All my friends said, “Pray that you do not draw Dr. Whiting. He is a killer on stats and math.” As I drew the names, my heart almost stopped. I drew the name of Dr. Whiting. My fear of being dropped out of my program after two very difficult years raced round and round in my mind.
I studied and prayed; I prayed and studied. A thought came to me to ask Dr. Gibb if he could sit in on my board. Could I do such a thing? Would he? Could he do such a thing? I got the courage and asked, and he said yes.
The day came. I pleaded with the Lord for help, for tender, tender, tender mercies, for anything he might give me. I entered the room. The questions began. I felt some glimmer of hope as I answered them. Then it happened: Dr. Whiting, who had sat quietly, spoke. “How would you measure…”
Stop. Measure? Wait! This was a stat question. I braced myself. I began my answer. I finished and stood ready for the bullet that would take my academic life. Two years would be over. Then he spoke. “I do not accept that answer.” Everything began to go black. I felt panic race through my whole body. He then said, “Would you like to try that again?” What choice did I have? I tried to use different words. I used words I hoped would impress. I finished. He said, “I don’t think you know what you are talking about.” I knew it was over. There was nothing else I could say or do. Dr. Gibb who had sat quietly the entire time suddenly spoke up. “I think Rob understands it this way,” he said. He proceeded to give the answer. He said, “Is that the way you understand it, Rob?” “Yes,” I said. Dr. Whiting looked at Dr. Gibb as to say, “What have you done?” Dr. Gibb just smiled. After standing in the hall for what seemed to be an eternity, I was brought back in the room. Dr. Whiting scowled and Dr. Gibb smiled. “It is the decision of this panel that you are to be awarded a master’s degree from this university.”
I thanked them, trying to hold back the tears. I looked at Dr. Gibb and thought, “In my moment when there was nothing more I could do and drowning in fear, you reached out and saved me.” I understood as I never had before what our Savior, Jesus Christ, does for us. Realizing that we cannot help ourselves and drowning in our sins, the Savior reaches out and pulls us to safety. I thought, “Dr. Gibb, you didn’t have to do that for me, but you did it.” I marvel that the Savior would do that for me. Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me.
There are many more precious things in my cart. Some people come to the checkout stand and discover that what they have put in their carts cannot leave the store (earth). Their cart is full of things pricey and of great worth in the eyes of the world but of little worth in eternity. Truly, few can go with them and bring them joy in the life beyond.
You students are just in the midst of your shopping experience in life. There is room in your cart and much to choose from. Be wise. Choose carefully. Think eternally in your selections. Bring as many happy memories, learning, and such as you can bring. Recognize and throw out things that take up space but have little eternal value.
The day will come when you will see your Savior and Father again. Perhaps they will ask, “What did you bring home?” I pray you can answer with great joy, “Much, Father. Much.” In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.