Legend of Elder Connor Benjamin Thredgold Passed Away while Serving in the Taiwan Taipei Mission (1995-2014) The weather forecast warns of a storm today; they say don’t forget your umbrella when you’re out and about. * A month ago, I learned that a pair of missionaries of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints serving in the Taiwan Taipei Mission died of carbon monoxide poisoning in their apartment in San Chung. One of the missionaries was Elder Thredgold from Springville, Utah, U.S.A.. He was 19. Nineteen years of age. He’d just graduated from high school last year; a young man with a boyish smile. People in Taipei had seen him before. Rain or shine, Elder Thredgold and his companion biked up and down the streets, in and out of alleyways and lanes, working hard without any complaints. Elder Thredgold always had that trademark boyish smile on his face. During high school, Elder Thredgold took Chinese classes. He worked in a carpet cleaning company. He also learned to work with automobiles. In fact, he was so skilled, he’d buy a used car in less-than-ideal condition, fix it up, sell it for profit, then repeat. People in Taipei had seen him at the train station, bus stop, and by the side of the road. They’d seen his boyish smile. But because they’d never seen him study Chinese like crazy or how hard he worked to save for his missionary fund, people in Taiwan probably didn’t know that every second of those 15 weeks Elder Thredgold spent among them, he was serving out of his free will and choice, with his own money. Elder Thredgold probably had never thought that his 19 years of mortal life would end on foreign soil; that he’d close his eyes in Taiwan. But if you asked him if he had any regret, he’d shake his head and tell you no. He’d nod and tell you he was willing to sacrifice his life for his brothers and sisters in Taiwan. Then you’d see tears quietly stream down his face when he nodded, leaving two tear marks on his cheeks. Suddenly, you’d realize that under his boyish smile, Elder Thredgold was really a mature man. I heard that he loved Taiwanese people deeply and freely. Springville, Utah reminds me of my hometown Hualien, Taiwan. Oh, no, not downtown Hualien, but the rural areas where you find peace, serenity, and simplicity only the countryside can offer. In Springville, you’ll see, as you drive by acres of green while the breeze sweeps over the grass, grazing cattle, sheep, and horses dot the landscape. Along gravel roads without sidewalks, you’ll see wild sunflowers sway in the breeze; red roses show off their beauty like pageant contestants; and orange pumpkins ready for harvest. Elder Thredgold was a country boy. He must’ve had a personality as true, happy, and humble as the feeling you get when you’re immersed in the beauty of nature. I imagine him, as a young barefooted boy, fishing by the pond. He probably raced bike with his buddies down a muddy road. His inseparable friend, his dog Sam, chased and barked behind the wheels. I imagine that loyal dog still waiting by the door for Elder Thredgold to come home. I got ahold of Elder Thredgold’s mother through social media, and learned the date of his funeral. When the time came, I found the church where the funeral took place. It wasn’t hard to find. Bright, beautiful flags lined the sidewalks, framing the church parking lot with a sea of star-spangled banners. As soon as I stepped into the front door, the solemn reverence in the air stilled my heart. Folding tables were set up in the hall. Elder Thredgold’s belongs were on display: Yearbook, diploma, family portrait, etc.. I went through everything on the tables and saw a laptop playing a slideshow of Elder Thredgold’s days in the Taipei Mission. One of the pictures caught my eyes: He and other missionaries spread a giant Taiwanese flag across their chests. His love for the Taiwanese people reminded me of John 15:13: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” It wasn’t until I saw Elder Thredgold’s baptism memory book that my emotions erupted into a volcano of sadness. Why? I can’t say. I have three boys. When each of them reached the age of 8 and was baptized, I scrapbooked pictures from the baptism and recorded tidbits from that special event for them, because I love them. Through the blurry vision of my teary eyes, I imagined Thredgold’s mother made him breakfast every morning; put the kicked blanket back on him every night; took him to Primary every Sunday. She taught him how to pray; how to read those difficult words in the scriptures; and how to prepare for baptism. I imagined her hosting 18 birthday parties for him. I imagined that one day, the entire Thredgold family, along with their neighbors and friends, gathered at the Thredgolds’ living room. Some shook their legs; some bit their fingernails; some had racing heartbeats, and all were excitedly watching Elder Thredgold open his mission call. When he read “Taiwan Taipei Mission,” I imagined everyone present shouted for joy. They hugged and congratulated him with teary eyes. Anyone happier than Elder Thredgold were probably his parents. Almost four months after Elder Thredgold had arrived in Taiwan, Heavenly Father handpicked, among tens of thousands of full-time missionaries around the world, him and his companion Elder Xiong to continue their missionary service on the other side of the veil. Because of Elder Thredgold’s and his companion’s faithfulness and worthiness, God entrusted them with the task of teaching the Gospel to billions of Chinese-speaking spirits. I heard that when the news of Elders Thredgold’s and Xiong’s passings reached the U.S., the state of Utah was soaked in the dark silence of night. The Thredgolds’ stake president took the news to the Thredgold family at midnight. He said, “Elder Xiong is deceased.” Seconds later, he told the Thredgolds that their son was also deceased. I imagined that in the dark silence of night the Thredgolds’ hearts broke. They must’ve experienced shock; confusion; and loss of words. They probably prayed earnestly and hugged each other with teary eyes. Although I’ve never experienced that cruel, penetrating pains of losing a son, the innate love every mother has for her child is universal. My heart ached with the Thredgolds, and I mourned with them. I imagined Elder Thredgold’s birthdays his parents don’t get to celebrate; his wedding they don’t get to attend; and his children they don’t get to hold in this mortal life. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland penned a letter of condolences to the Thredgolds, in which he wrote “God knows everything about losing a son on a mission.” I followed the funeral crowd into the viewing room. Sister Thredgold walked past the line, and I grabbed her hand. She looked to have cried for a month, her eyes full of fatigue. I choked on my trembling voice when I introduced myself. Her eyes glistened. We hugged, and I felt perfect peace. Brother Thredgold was behind his wife. I shook his hand and expressed love and gratitude on behalf of the Taiwanese Church members. He listened quietly, and I saw tears stream down his face when he nodded, leaving two tear marks on his cheeks. There were about 1,000 attendees at the funeral, including Elder Perkins from the Quorum of the Seventy. The Thredgolds told the audience that their son’s favorite hymn was “There is Sunshine in My Soul Today.” Elder Thredgold often said that we needed to be like the sun, to shine on others and bring them warmth. “You never know, you might be the only sunshine and the only hope someone has in his life.” I heard that Elder Thredgold’s boyish smile was as bright as sunshine. Elder Thredgold’s three brothers and three uncles were the pallbearers. The audience arose in reverent respect when the casket was wheeled out of the chapel. You could hear soundless goodbyes and audible nose-blowing. You’d also see tissues dabbing the corner of the eyes. Outside of the church there was bright sunshine and ten thousand miles of cloudless blue above us. American flags still proudly stood, reflecting the hero that Elder Thredgold really was. The pallbearers carefully loaded the casket onto the bed of “Old Blue”––Elder Thredgold’s beloved truck. Hundreds of spectators saluted while Old Blue slowly moved out of the parking lot. An airplane glided over the indigo sky. I imagined two planes, flying in opposite directions, passed by each other above the Pacific Ocean. One carried Elder Thredgold’s sacred body across the globe from Taiwan back to the U.S., the other carried another 18-year-old missionary with a boyish smile. He’d land at the Chiang Kai-Shek International Airport in Taoyuan, Taiwan. In the next two years, he’d bike up and down the streets, in and out of alleyways and lanes in Taipei. People’d see him at the train station, bus stop, and by the side of the road, and they’d think of Elder Thredgold. * The weather forecast warns of a storm today; they say don’t forget your umbrella when you’re out and about. But there is bright sunshine and ten thousand miles of cloudless blue above me. And I’m grateful I don’t need to take an umbrella with me to Springville to say goodbye to Elder Thredgold who loved my people so deeply and freely. May Elder Thredgold’s legend live on in the hearts of those whose lives he touched––the way sunshine warms souls and brings hope.
Posted on: Wed, 24 Sep 2014 01:06:33 +0000
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