On a snowy night nearly a century ago, my grandfather, Scott Milne Matheson, crossed the campus of the University of Utah, dejected, his college dream dashed.
The 12th of 13 children of Scottish immigrants, Scott was the first of his siblings to attend school beyond the eighth grade. His father, nearly blind and partially deaf as a result of childhood diseases, did his best to support the family as a janitor at the Parowan, Utah, schoolhouse. All family members worked odd jobs and, together, made ends meet. They were delighted with Scott’s admission to the University of Utah and readily offered their support. Reality, however, overcame enthusiasm. Covering tuition strained the family, and Scott’s part-time jobs couldn’t make up the gap. Scott decided he could not continue to add to his family’s financial burden, and he would leave his beloved university.
Scott barely noticed the snow or anything else that night, lost in thought about what he would do back in Parowan. A greeting from a man walking the other direction roused him. The stranger asked Scott about his college experience. Scott shared how much he loved his studies and college activities, but that lack of finances prevented his continuing. The man gave Scott his office number and asked him to visit the next day.
When Scott arrived at the office, he discovered that the man he had met the previous night was George Thomas, the president of the University of Utah. Following further conversation, President Thomas handed Scott a personal check to cover tuition. Scott initially declined, explaining that he was unable to repay. Thomas replied, “Years ago, a gentleman covered the cost of my education and told me I could pay him back by doing the same for someone else. That’s you.” Scott completed his education at the University of Utah, opening the door to a brighter future for him — and his family.
Scott married Adele Adams and became a teacher and basketball coach at Parowan High School. He loved working with young people but felt compelled to continue his education. Remarkably, he earned admission to the prestigious Chicago Law School. Upon graduation, he returned to Utah, where he practiced law and ultimately received a presidential appointment as the United States Attorney for Utah. Scott became a renowned trial attorney, and the gallery filled when he argued cases. The Salt Lake Tribune reported that “Scott developed a strong and sympathetic interest in boys who had run afoul of the law. … [H]e helped in the placing on probation of some 500 youths arrested for federal offenses. And he made it a point to personally check on the progress the boys were making, giving advice and otherwise assisting them. Working with boys and helping direct their energies into lawful and useful channels was his consuming interest for many years.” These efforts with troubled youth were, I suspect, his way of “paying forward” George Thomas’ kindness.
Scott and Adele died much too young, but their influence continues. Their progeny includes a governor, congressman, federal judge, deans of two law schools, physician, dentist, nurse, teachers, university officials, an astrophysicist, and several attorneys. These and other family members have influenced many lives for the good. It is hard to imagine this legacy had two men not met, seemingly by chance, on a winter evening.
In Scott’s providential meeting with George Thomas, I see not coincidence, but the mark of divine love. I am grateful for a Father in Heaven who benevolently guides His children toward their potential. He knows us. He cares. Protecting our agency, His interventions are often subtle, His actions sometimes anonymous to all but the most sincere and spiritually perceptive. If we recognize coincidences as minor miracles, our eyes will open to His frequent company.
I am grateful for George Thomas’ sensitivity and generosity, for his unselfish act that turned the course of a family. Many of us ask others how they are doing out of habit, without regard for the reply. President Thomas, however, listened empathetically to an unknown young man’s answer, and with enough concern to respond with genuine charity.
I’m grateful for my grandfather, who honored Thomas’ sacrifice by fully embracing the opportunity presented him. Opportunities arise more than we acknowledge. We pray but too often miss or dismiss the answers. It’s not the opportunity, but our response, that makes the difference. Thomas’ kindness, while independently noble, would have meant little without Scott’s determined will and diligent efforts to learn, grow and serve.
How can I adequately thank my Heavenly Father, George Thomas and my grandfather? The truth is, I can’t. Perhaps the closest I can get is by living with purpose and enthusiasm, magnifying my grandfather’s opportunity, which is now mine. True gratitude begets action. Two generations later, and still the beneficiary of George Thomas’ largesse, I feel a compelling obligation similarly to bring hope and possibility to another.
We all are indebted to some degree to others who have aided our journey. Whatever our circumstances, we surely can point to an act of selflessness that made our life better. It is within us to be the person whose generous spirit changes the course of a day, a life — even generations. We can open opportunity’s door to someone whose prospects seem uncertain. We can give counsel or direction to a young person seeking purpose. Most importantly, we can introduce someone to our Savior and His saving doctrines and ordinances, bringing a family — many generations, many souls — eternal joy (Doctrine and Covenants 18:15-16).
— Alan Matheson Jr. is a member of the Sandy Utah Willow Creek Stake presidency.
