The first black man to receive the priesthood in 1978 was named Joseph Freeman. I've always liked that name and thought it just the right one. It reminds me of Joseph of old, who had to wait long years before he could get delivered and before he could deliver others.

I can't say if Len Hope was the first black high priest beyond this world, but I know who the first one was on earth in 1978. That was Brother Ruffin Bridgeforth.

Boyd Packer telephoned him towards the end of June to ask if he had received the priesthood. Ruffin's bishop was in Hawaii when the revelation came, so the answer was, "Not yet."

Elder Packer announced he'd be at Ruffin's ward the upcoming Sunday to ordain him, and indeed he was there. After sacrament meeting, he took Ruffin and Helena Bridgeforth into a little room.

Helena was a pretty Mexican woman, though she was very ill by this time, crippled with rheumatoid arthritis. Illness had shrunk her to a mere eighty pounds, and it was a chore for her to get anywhere. Most often, she used a wheelchair. She must've summoned Boyd Packer's pity, for he wanted to bless her before he ordained Ruffin. He was about to do so, even had his hands in position, and then pulled back. "No," he said. "Ruffin, I'm going to ordain you, and then you can give your wife a blessing. I'll be pleased to assist you in that."

He motioned Ruffin to the wood chair and laid his hands on that gray head.

Now, Ruffin had received many a blessing or a setting apart in his days. He had felt priesthood hands and the warmth of that power move down his scalp and body. But never had he felt anything like this. When Elder Packer conferred the Melchizedek Priesthood on him and ordained him a high priest, something so mighty came from those hands, Ruffin felt himself being folded into Jesus' light.

After his ordination, the first black high priest on this side of the veil stood up and shook Elder Packer's hand. Ruffin embraced his wife and then walked behind her wheelchair. For the first time in all their marriage, he was about to give her a blessing by the power of the priesthood.

Elder Packer anointed her with oil, and then Ruffin set his hands on her head. "Helena Romero Bridgeforth," he said, and began the blessing. His voice broke only once, as he spoke the words "by the power of the Melchizedek priesthood, which I hold."

He would give many, many blessings from that time forth, sometimes pausing to murmur "Praise the Lord" between sentences. I've always wondered if he was seeing visions and couldn't resist the familiar words of worship he had known since his child days.

Not long afterwards, Elder Packer sealed the Bridgeforths in the Salt Lake Temple.

Lucile Bankhead was informed by telephone about the Church's policy change, but she didn't believe it and got perturbed at the caller. Her voice was shrill, for she was not about to be mocked, and she hung up like the phone was her personal exclamation mark. She stared that telephone down, daring it to ring again--which it did. That caller must've been one brave man. Or maybe he was just so joyful with the news that not even Lucile Bankhead's wrath could stop him from calling a second time. It took some doing, but he persuaded her that the news was true.

Once she believed, Lucile didn't waste no time getting herself to the temple and then doing genealogy work. Before long, she had discovered a life history dictated to Elizabeth J. D. Roundy by a certain Jane Elizabeth Manning James.

When a child only six years old, I left my home and went to live with a family of white people. Their names were Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Fitch. They were aged people and quite wealthy. I was raised by their daughter.

In that history, Jane had listed not only her brothers and sisters but all her children too. Lucile helped make arrangements for their temple work to be done.

As for Gene Orr, he received the priesthood in Canada.

Monroe Fleming passed away before too long, but he was alive and ordained in 1978. When folks asked how he felt about the long wait, he showed that sweet smile and said, "What we do now is join hands and move forward. Just forget about the past."

Aidan Gray, though, was still bound to the past. He did not receive priesthood in 1978, for he was not active when the revelation came.

He heard about it, however, before it was even public knowledge. He was working for a paper company, and one of his coworkers said, "Hey, Aidan, the Mormons are going to give priesthood to the Negroes."

He didn't even look up at her, so she said it again.

"Get out of here, Dixie," he answered. "That's not funny." It was a sensitive matter to him. True, he had only occasionally set foot inside a Mormon chapel in several years and was smoking once again, but he had never forgot that Christmas gift God gave him in 1964. He had never lost his testimony, though he hadn't shared it in years. It had become as private to him as the life he was living.

Dixie told him she wasn't joking.

He turned on his office television and radio but heard no news about priesthood. The word hadn't broke yet. Dixie had heard about it early, from someone over at the Church Office Building.

Well, he did the logical thing: He called President Kimball's

office direct. The prophet's secretary told him President Kimball was back in the temple and that yes, what he had heard was true.

Aidan's eyes filled. He was not in a position to receive the priesthood himself, but God had heard the prayers of so many Saints. All he could say was, "God is good."

The news hit the airwaves shortly after that, and Aidan wanted to share the joy with his friend Heber Wolsey. When he went to the Public Affairs office, Heber wasn't there. The secretary called him at home. She didn't tell him who was waiting to see him.

Heber lived close. Only a few minutes later, he walked into the room where Aidan was standing. They hadn't seen each other in years and fell into a long embrace. Then through the window, they gazed at the Salt Lake Temple with tear-filled eyes.

There it was, that great, spired building which Elijah Abel had helped build and which Jane James had begged to enter. At last, at last, all its doors were open to us.

But Aidan had to face his own life. It was no policy keeping him outside the temple, it was just him and his habit. And the bitingest truth stung deep: He had prevented himself from receiving those blessings he'd longed for. And he couldn't know what good things never happened because he hadn't been around to do them. "I'm seeing a beautiful future," Ruffin answered. "And I'm so grateful."

Well, it would be some years before that prophecy would bear fruit for Aidan. It would be some years before he could free himself and find his way to the place where all his blessings were held in reserve.