“Upon you my fellow servants, in the name of Messiah, I confer the Priesthood of Aaron, which holds the keys of the ministering of angels…”  (D&C 13).

Sel Mastrude says that he and his wife, Glenda, were very protective of their firstborn baby, Curt.  When Curt was five months old they had their first evening away from him.  They left the baby in the care of Glenda’s sister and her husband.

The sister had a two-year-old boy.  The boy emptied his piggy bank onto the living room floor.  When Sel and Glenda returned to pick their baby up, Glenda’s sister said that their two-year-old had told them that baby Curt had swallowed a penny.  No one else had seen him do it.  He seemed fine, but the sister thought that the Mastrudes should know that the possibility existed.

Curt was not fussy, nor uncomfortable.  He took his bottle fine, and Glenda put him to bed.  Sel and Glenda prayed together over little Curt, and they went to bed, too.

“In the night,” Sel reported, “my (deceased) mother-in-law came to me and said, ‘Curt has swallowed a penny, and needs to see a doctor as soon as possible.’”

In the morning Sel didn’t tell Glenda about the interview he’d had in the night, but said to Glenda, “I think we’d better take Curt for an x-ray.”

The x-ray revealed a coin stuck in Curt’s throat.  Try as they might, no one could remove it.  They were sent to a specialist who was successful in removing the shiny penny.  He reported that the baby’s throat was already ulcerated, and that the penny would have shortly eaten its way through, with potentially fatal consequences.

The ministering of angels is real.  I have a feeling that angels are around us daily.  Only rarely are we aware of them.  I’m convinced that those angels are most likely our loved ones who have a vested interest in us.  Little Curt’s grandmother is a case in point.

Sel told me his story yesterday.  This morning I came in my reading to Doctrine and Covenants, section 13, which says that the Aaronic Priesthood holds the keys to the ministering of angels.  I wondered if any of my family had ministered to us.

I immediately thought of my mother’s most sacred experience.  I had gone to Japan in the U.S. Navy to board the U.S.S. Banner.  The Vietnam conflict was in full swing (1968), and the Banner’s sister ship, the Pueblo, was captured by the North Koreans as I was heading to Japan.  The Banner and the Pueblo took turns being on patrol every three weeks, and the Pueblo was captured just as the Banner was heading out to sea to relieve her.  The Pueblo’s crew was held captive for 400 days.

In this state of affairs Mom’s son was heading off to what she considered a very unstable and dangerous Far East.  One war was raging, another was looming, and her precious son was going to be right in the middle of it all.  She was extremely worried, and prayed fervently for my safety.

One night her father appeared beside her bed, and said, “You don’t need to worry about Jamie.  He’s going to be all right.”

She ceased worrying.  This was when I was a brand-new convert to the Church, and before I’d gotten my grandfather’s temple work done.  With that work now completed, I have no doubt but what my noble grandfather is now a true ministering angel for his posterity.  In life he was a good and a grand man, who was very interested in, and proud of, his grandchildren.  That interest would not now be diminished, but rather augmented.

On two occasions I’ve personally felt the nearness of loved ones on the other side of the veil.  The feelings that I had left no room for me to doubt their presence.

On the one occasion I found myself leading the music at the baptism of Margie’s niece, Cecelia Rysdam.  As I led the closing hymn I found myself wondering if Dave and Zelma, her grandparents, were aware of what was happening.  Strong tears came to my eyes.  I couldn’t see or sing.  I had to choke back sobs.  They were there.  I knew it!

I told Margie later that her parents had been there.  She replied, “Why wouldn’t they be?  They probably orchestrated it.”

On the other occasion Margie and I went to the temple on the day that Aaron was to leave the MTC and take the plane to Brazil where he’d serve a mission for the next two years.  When our children are making such long, and perhaps hazardous trips, Margie and I go to the temple as our way of helping them along the way.

As we were traveling on our way to the Boise Temple, I wondered out loud what our parents were doing on the other side of the veil.  Our previous trip to the temple was made with Aaron, as he prepared to receive his own endowments.  Prior to receiving his endowments he went to the baptismal font to be baptized for his self-proclaimed best friend, his grandfather—my father.  He then went through an endowment session for himself, while I went through the same session for my father.  They received their endowments together.

As we traveled to the temple as our way to help Aaron as he flew to Brazil, I wondered about my parents.  In the temple, as I prayed about Aaron, it came over me that my father—Aaron’s best friend—was going along with him.  In my mind’s eye I could see him—young, trim, handsome, exuberant, and quick of mind.

We believe in the ministering of angels.  The Priesthood of Aaron holds the keys.  We probably have angels ministering to us on a frequent, if not daily, basis—and we’re generally not even aware.

When I get to the other side, I’d consider it a great privilege and blessing to have the opportunity to minister to and help my posterity.  It’s what I’d want to do.  It’s what I’ve been doing all my life.