Chris Stocks told a story today about his wife, Heidi, from her high school days.  Heidi has always been everyone's friend.  That's just the way she is.  She says hi to everyone, and ignores no one.

Some years after graduation a young man approached her and thanked her for saving his life.  He told her that his high school days had been particularly hard.  He felt isolated and alone.  He had no friends, and no one ever spoke to him.

One day he'd had enough.  This was going to be the day.  If no one spoke to him he would go home and kill himself.  But that day Heidi smiled at him and said, "Hi."  She had saved his life, and never knew it.

Marjorie got to go to Relief Society meeting today for the first time in years.  She has been playing piano in Primary all this time, and had forgotten what Relief Society even felt like.

"It was so fun," she said.  "I went in and sat with Sally Giles and Chip Eardley.  Sister Jarrett gave a wonderful lesson, and the three of us had the best time just being together.  And that lesson brought back a memory I haven't thought about in years.

"I was a new freshman at BYU.  My five roommates were all upper classmen, and had their own circles of friends.  I didn't know anybody, and had no friends.  I liked my roommates, but I was alone, and just doing the best I could.

"One day one of the girls came to me and asked for my schedule.  'Why do you want my schedule?' I asked.  Another girl perked up at that request and got out pen and paper so that she could write down my schedule, too.

"The first girl explained that when I wasn't there they were snotty to each other, and things would get so bad that she'd have to go up on campus just to find a better atmosphere; but that when I was there everything was different.  She said that I was funny, and had such a wonderful sense of humor that everyone could joke together and be nice if I was around.  Both girls wanted to know when they could expect me to be in the apartment so that they could feel comfortable being there, too."

And Marjorie's story reminded me of an experience concerning quiet influences from my own days in the U.S. Navy.

I was in Texas attending security school, and learning what to do with my top secret security clearance.  Every day an instructor named Garrett began each class with a dirty joke.  It was his way to become popular, and to get everyone's attention.  I felt helpless, and did not appreciate either him or his jokes.  All I could do was to stare at my desk and to try my best to tune him out.  I was very successful.  I don't remember one thing he ever said or taught; but I was greatly relieved when he quit telling jokes.  Only then was I able to look at him.

A couple of weeks later a fellow classmate named Carlson said to me, "Do you know why Garrett doesn't tell jokes any more?"

"No, why?"

"It's because you won't laugh."

I was astonished.  I consider that one of the greatest compliments I've ever received

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Influences don't have to be loud or profound.  They can sometimes be very quiet, and yet be very far reaching.