Collection of My Favorite President Monson Stories

To use this material effectively for a series of family home evenings, I suggest you look through the stories about President Monson and tell a few in your own words

Introduction

Throughout my life, I have looked up to Elder Thomas S. Monson and have loved listening to and quoting his counsel. As a young boy, I thought he looked like my Dad’s younger brother, Don. As an adult, I loved the stories he would share about his memories in Toronto, Canada where he served as a mission president in his early 30s. To this day, members of the Burlington, Ontario Ward love to share memories of his ministry in that area.

One time during a live General Conference Broadcast, he told the story of Irving Wilson, a young branch president in St. Thomas, Ontario who wanted to get a building. President Monson told him to baptize enough people to make that happen. Irving or IR as he was known, took him literally and went to the yellow pages of the phone book and identified a architect, a landscaper, a builder, etc. and then went to work with the missionaries to find and baptize the people needed to help him get a building.

IR was our first home teacher in Burlington (we lived in Oakville not too far from his home) and when President Monson shared that story, IR was sitting just in front of me in the chapel. Sadly Brother Wilson passed on a short time later, but hearing that story in general conference blessed his life and the lives of his children and grandchildren….many of whom were taught by Diane in her seminary class.

We moved to Utah in 1998 after 16 years in Canada. I wanted to meet President Monson and give him the loving greetings of his many, many friends in Canada. Diane and I had that opportunity on December 22, 2005, when we were invited to his office and he called us to preside over a French-speaking mission. He was unrushed and made us feel like he was so interested in our family and in our mission. When we told him of our experience in Canada, he began to tell stories and experiences of his mission in Ontario and came over and sat by Diane. He patted her hand as he would show us the baptism statistics of his now dog-eared report to the First Presidency about his mission.

I do not believe any person alive today has had more experience in knowing about the First Presidency and its responsibilities. For 22 years he has served as a counselor in that presidency – first to President Benson, then to President Hunter and for the past 13 years to President Hinckley.

President Monson was called to be a bishop at the young age of 23, presided over a stake in his later 20s, presided over the Canada Toronto Mission in his early 30s and was called to serve as an apostle at the age of 36. He has had experience presiding over missions in the South Pacific (his first assignment as an apostle) and then over European missions. Particularly dear to him are the rich associations he had in Europe and more specifically with the people behind the “Iron Curtain.” He was very instrumental in gaining permission from the DDR (German government) to build the Freiberg Germany Temple, which was dedicated in 1985.

I love the way President Monson teaches. If you look at his talks, he outlines what he is going to teach, then explains carefully the 3 or 4 points with stories and then summarizes. He loves to teach about the Savior and illustrates his points quite often with personal experiences he has had in following promptings.

The following pages summarize a collection of lessons learned by studying the life of President Monson:

Childhood

As a small boy, I enjoyed visiting the home of my grandmother on Bueno Avenue here in Salt Lake City. Grandmother was always so happy to see us and to draw us close to her. Seated on her lap, we listened as she read to us. Her youngest son and his wife now occupy that same home. I visited there recently. The fireplug on the curb seemed so small compared to its size when I climbed its lofty heights those long years ago. The friendly porch was the same, the quiet, peaceful atmosphere not altered. Hanging on the kitchen wall was a framed expression which my aunt had embroidered. It carried a world of practical application: “Choose your love; love your choice.” She who prepared that message is now in frail health. Her husband, Ray, cares for her constantly and is the epitome of faithful and enduring love. She reciprocates in her own way. They live the lesson they framed.
Seemingly little lessons of love are observed by children as they silently absorb the examples of their parents. My own father, a printer, worked long and hard practically every day of his life. I’m certain that on the Sabbath he would have enjoyed just being at home. Rather, he visited elderly family members and brought cheer into their lives.
One was his uncle, who was crippled by arthritis so severe that he could not walk or care for himself. On a Sunday afternoon Dad would say to me, “Come along, Tommy; let’s take Uncle Elias for a short drive.” Boarding the old 1928 Oldsmobile, we would proceed to Eighth West, where, at the home of Uncle Elias, I would wait in the car while Dad went inside. Soon he would emerge from the house, carrying in his arms like a china doll his crippled uncle. I then would open the door and watch how tenderly and with such affection my father would place Uncle Elias in the front seat so he would have a fine view while I occupied the rear seat.The drive was brief and the conversation limited, but oh, what a legacy of love! Father never read to me from the Bible about the Good Samaritan. Rather, he took me with him and Uncle Elias in that old 1928 Oldsmobile along the road to Jericho. Thomas S. Monson, “Hallmarks of a Happy Home,” Ensign, Nov. 1988, 69

Father’s Counsel

My own father, a printer, gave to me a copy of a piece he had printed. It was entitled “A Letter from a Father” and concluded with this thought: “Perhaps my greatest hope as a parent is to have such a relationship with you that when the day comes and you look down into the face of your first child, you will feel deep within you the desire to be to your child the kind of parent your dad has tried to be to you. What greater compliment could any man ask? Love, Dad.” Thomas S. Monson, “Gifts,” Ensign, May 1993, 59

In an interview with the Church News in 1985, President Monson said, “I never heard my father speak a negative word toward another person. In fact, he would not remain in the room if anyone were speaking disrespectfully or negatively toward another person.”

Patriarchal Blessing Promises

Thomas Monson received a Patriarchal Blessing at the age of 16, which foretold of the service he would be able to render:
“The Holy Ghost has been conferred upon you to be your inspiration and your guide, to direct you in your labors, and to bring to your mind the things that have passed and to show unto you things to come. …
“You shall be indeed a leader among your fellows. … You shall have the privilege of going into the world to proclaim the message of the gospel … and you shall have the spirit of discernment.
“Seek the Lord in humility to guide and direct you, that you might know the proper course to pursue … in the high and holy callings unto which you shall be called." Jeffrey R. Holland, “President Thomas S. Monson: Man of Action, Man of Faith, Always ‘on the Lord’s Errand’,” Ensign, Feb 1986, 10.

Meeting His Future Wife

I think I should like to take you with me back to my college days. At that time, young people would graduate from high school in Salt Lake City at the age of 16 or 17, and we were enrolled as freshmen at the various universities. I remember at a New Year’s Eve party, I was dancing with a girl from West High School when a young lady from East High School danced by with her partner. Her name was Frances Johnson. I didn’t know it at the time. I just took one look and decided that there was a young lady I wanted to meet. But she danced away and I didn’t see her again for three more months. Then one day, at University Avenue and Second South Street, I looked across the street and couldn’t believe my eyes. There was the young lady whom I had seen dancing across the floor. She was standing with another young lady and a young man whom I remembered from grade school days. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember his name. I had a decision to make. What should I do? I found in my heart an appreciation of that phrase that ‘when the time for decision arrives, the time for preparation is past.’ I squared my shoulders and plunged toward my opportunity. I walked up to that young man and said, ‘Hello, my old friend from grade school days.’
He said to me, ‘I can’t quite remember your name.’ I told him my name. He told me his name, and then he introduced me to the girl who later became my wife. That day I made a little note in my student directory to call on Frances Beverly Johnson, and I did. That decision, I believe, was perhaps the most important decision that I have ever made.
You young people have the responsibility to make that same decision. We have an important responsibility in choosing not only whom we shall date, but whom we shall marry. Elder Bruce R. McConkie is the author of a priceless statement: ‘Nothing is more important than marrying the right person, at the right time, in the right place, and by the right authority.’
We hope you will avoid what we call quick courtships, weekend courtships, which we have seen in some cases. I might report to you that our marriage took place three and one-half years after I made that first acquaintance with Sister Monson. Of course, I’m not here to put cold water on any of you who have plans contrary to three and one-half years. But I think it is important that you become acquainted with the person whom you plan to marry, that you make certain that you are looking down the same pathway, in the same direction, with the same objectives in mind. It is ever so significant that you do this. Thomas S. Monson, “Life’s Greatest Questions,” BYU Fireside, Feb. 6, 1977.

Of Swedish ancestry, Frances, with her native poise and graciousness, was easily integrated into the Monson clan at the Terrace. And at Tom’s first meeting with her parents, he acquired preferred status when it was learned that his great uncle, Elias Monson, had helped convert the Johnson family in Sweden. Tears filled the eyes of Franz and Hildur Johnson as they embraced their future son-in-law. Although the incident was tinged with mild embarrassment for Frances, who hardly anticipated such a reception for her young boyfriend, she and Tom reflected later that the relationship of their Swedish ancestors may have portended more than mere coincidence.
Francis M. Gibbons, “President Thomas S. Monson,” Ensign, July 1995, 6-7

Young Married Life

Four years later, in 1948, we were married. I had to graduate from the University of Utah and serve some time in the Navy. It’s been a wonderful marriage. We have three choice children and six choice grandchildren.
I’d like to say to you married students and those to be married that life will be interesting, as it has been for us. I was ward clerk when we got married. I can honestly say that Frances and I have rarely attended a Sacrament meeting where we have been able to sit in the audience together. Thomas S. Monson, “Eternal Flight,” CES Fireside Satellite Broadcast, BYU, Feb. 4, 1996.

Serving in the Navy

If we are on the Lord’s errand, we are entitled to the Lord’s help.
His help has come to me on countless occasions throughout my life. During the final phases of World War II, I turned 18 and was ordained an elder—one week before I departed for active duty with the navy. A member of my ward bishopric was at the train station to bid me farewell. Just before train time, he placed in my hand a book which I hold before you tonight. Its title: The Missionary’s Hand Book. I laughed and commented, “I’ll be in the navy—not on a mission.” He answered, “Take it anyway. It may come in handy.”
It did. During basic training our company commander instructed us concerning how we might best pack our clothing in a large seabag. He then advised, “If you have a hard, rectangular object you can place in the bottom of the bag, your clothes will stay more firm.” I thought, “Where am I going to find a hard, rectangular object?” Suddenly I remembered just the right rectangular object—The Missionary’s Hand Book. And thus it served for 12 weeks at the bottom of that seabag.
The night preceding our Christmas leave, our thoughts were, as always, on home. The barracks were quiet. Suddenly I became aware that my buddy in the adjoining bunk—a member of the Church, Leland Merrill—was moaning in pain. I asked, “What’s the matter, Merrill?”
He replied, “I’m sick. I’m really sick.”
I advised him to go to the base dispensary, but he answered knowingly that such a course would prevent him from being home for Christmas. I then suggested he be quiet so that we didn’t awaken the entire barracks.
The hours lengthened; his groans grew louder. Then, in desperation, he whispered, “Monson, aren’t you an elder?” I acknowledged this to be so, whereupon he pleaded, “Give me a blessing.”
I became very much aware that I had never given a blessing. I had never received such a blessing; I had never witnessed a blessing being given. My prayer to God was a plea for help. The answer came: “Look in the bottom of the seabag.” Thus, at 2:00 a.m. I emptied on the deck the contents of the bag. I then took to the night-light that hard, rectangular object, The Missionary’s Hand Book, and read how one blesses the sick. With about 120 curious sailors looking on, I proceeded with the blessing. Before I could stow my gear, Leland Merrill was sleeping like a child.
The next morning, Merrill smilingly turned to me and said, “Monson, I’m glad you hold the priesthood!” His gladness was only surpassed by my gratitude—gratitude not only for the priesthood but for being worthy to receive the help I required in a time of desperate need and to exercise the power of the priesthood. Thomas S. Monson, “The Priesthood—a Sacred Gift,” Ensign, May 2007, 57–60

Turning Point Moment (in Navy)

I served in the United States Navy toward the end of World War II. I was what is called a Seaman, the most elementary rank. Then I qualified to be a seaman first class. Then I qualified to be Yeoman Third Class. The war ended, and I was discharged. I made a decision, however, that if ever I went back into the military, I wanted to go in as a commissioned officer. If one hasn’t been in the military, he may not appreciate the difference between the apprentice seaman and the commissioned officer. You can best learn the difference by experience. Once learned, it’s never forgotten. I thought, “No more mess kitchens for me. No more scrubbing of the decks if I can avoid it.” Then I worked without respite to qualify for that commission. I joined the United States Naval Reserve; I attended drill every Monday night. I studied long hours, that I might qualify academically. I took every kind of examination you can imagine; mental, physical, and emotional. Finally there came from Denver, Colorado, the welcome news, “You have been approved to receive the commission of an ensign in the United States Naval Reserve.” I gleefully showed it to Sister Monson and said, “I made it! I made it!” She hugged me and said, “You’ve worked hard to achieve it!”
But then circumstances changed. I was called to be a counselor in my ward bishopric. The bishop’s council meeting was on the evening of my drill meeting. I knew that there was a irreconcilable conflict. I didn’t have the time to pursue the Naval Reserve and also my bishopric duties. What was I to do? A decision had to be made. I prayed about it. I then went to see my former stake president, Elder Harold B. Lee. I sat across the table from him and mentioned to him how much I valued that commission. He said to me, “Here’s what you should do, Brother Monson. Write a letter to the Bureau of Naval Affairs and tell them that because of your call as a member of the bishopric, you can’t accept that commission in the United States Naval Reserve.” He continued, “Then write to the commandant of the Twelfth Naval District in San Francisco and tell him that you would like to be discharged from the reserve.”
I said, “Oh, Brother Lee, you don’t understand the military. Of course they’ll decline to give me that commission if I refuse, but the Twelfth Naval District isn’t going to let any non-commissioned officer out of its hands with a war brewing in Korea. I could be stuck to go back in the service at a very low rating if I don’t accept this commission. Are you sure this is the counsel you want me to receive?” He put his hand on my shoulder and in a fatherly way said, “Brother Monson, have more faith. The military is not for you.”
I went to my home and placed a tear-stained commission back in its envelope with its accompanying letter and declined to accept it. I then wrote a letter to the Twelfth Naval District and requested a discharge from the Naval Reserve. My discharge from the Naval Reserve was in the last group processed before the outbreak of the Korean War. My headquarters unit was immediately activated. Just six weeks after being called as a counselor in a bishopric, I was called to be the bishop of my ward. I know my life would have been drastically different had I not followed the counsel of a prophet, had I not prayed about a decision, had I not come to appreciate an important truth. The wisdom of God oft-times appears as foolishness to men, but the greatest single lesson we can learn in mortality is that when God speaks and a man obeys, that man will always be right.
Thomas S. Monson, Be Your Best Self, Deseret Book, 1979, 134-136.

Early Church Service

“Tom was serving as ward clerk, then as superintendent of the Young Men organization when we were first married, and he has gone from one assignment to another since then,” Sister Monson recalls. “Some have asked how a new bride adjusts to that, but it has never been a sacrifice to see my husband doing the Lord’s work. It has blessed me, and it has blessed our children. He always knew that if it was for the Church, I expected him to do what he had to do.”
“In thirty-seven years of marriage I have never known Frances to complain once of my Church responsibilities,” says President Monson lovingly. “In those thirty-seven years I have been gone many days and many nights, and I have rarely been able to sit with her in the congregation. But there is no one like her-absolutely no one. She is in every way supportive and is a woman of quiet and profoundly powerful faith.”
With Frances at his side and increasing Church responsibilities, Brother Monson continued the preparation that would one day aid him in his service as a counselor in the First Presidency of the Church. Jeffrey R. Holland, “President Thomas S. Monson: Man of Action, Man of Faith, Always ‘on the Lord’s Errand,’ ” Ensign, Feb. 1986, 10

Following Promptings Lesson

The following account demonstrates Thomas Monson's desire to serve the Lord, not only according to protocol, but according to the promptings of the Spirit:
Twenty-three-year-old Tom Monson, the relatively new bishop of the Sixth-Seventh Ward in the Temple View Stake, was uncharacteristically restless as the stake priesthood leadership meeting progressed. He had the distinct impression that he should leave the meeting immediately and drive to the Veterans’ Hospital high up on the Avenues of Salt Lake City. Before leaving home that night he had received a telephone call informing him that an older member of his ward was ill and had been admitted to the hospital for care. Could the bishop, the caller wondered, find a moment to go by the hospital sometime and give a blessing? The busy young leader explained that he was just on his way to a stake meeting but that he certainly would be pleased to go by the hospital as soon as the meeting was concluded.
Now the prompting was stronger than ever: “Leave the meeting and proceed to the hospital at once.” But the stake president himself was speaking at the pulpit! It would be most discourteous to stand in the middle of the presiding officer’s message, make one’s way over an entire row of brethren, and then exit the building altogether. Painfully he waited out the final moments of the stake president’s message, then bolted for the door even before the benediction had been pronounced.
Running the full length of the corridor on the fourth floor of the hospital, the young bishop saw a flurry of activity outside the designated room. A nurse stopped him and said, “Are you Bishop Monson?”
“Yes,” was the anxious reply.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “The patient was calling your name just before he passed away.”
Fighting back the tears, Thomas S. Monson turned and walked back into the night. He vowed then and there that he would never again fail to act upon a prompting from the Lord. He would acknowledge the impressions of the Spirit when they came, and he would follow wherever they led him, ever to be “on the Lord’s errand.” Jeffrey R. Holland, “President Thomas S. Monson: Man of Action, Man of Faith, Always ‘on the Lord’s Errand’,” Ensign, Feb 1986, 10.

Example of Learning Lesson to Follow Promptings (from 2001, some 50 years later)

There appears in the Doctrine and Covenants, section 107, verse 99, a brief but direct admonition to each priesthood bearer: "Wherefore, now let every man learn his duty, and to act in the office in which he is appointed, in all diligence." I have always taken this charge seriously and have attempted to live up to its direction.
In the recesses of my mind, I hear over and over again the guiding direction which President John Taylor gave to the brethren of the priesthood: "If you do not magnify your callings, God will hold you responsible for those you might have saved, had you done your duty."
In the performance of our responsibilities, I have learned that when we heed a silent prompting and act upon it without delay, our Heavenly Father will guide our footsteps and bless our lives and the lives of others. I know of no experience more sweet or feeling more precious than to heed a prompting only to discover that the Lord has answered another person's prayer through you.
Perhaps just one example will suffice. One day just over a year ago, after taking care of matters at the office, I felt a strong impression to visit an aged widow who was a patient at St. Joseph Villa here in Salt Lake City. I drove there directly.
When I went to her room, I found it empty. I asked an attendant concerning her whereabouts and was directed to a lounge area. There I found this sweet widow visiting with her sister and another friend. We had a pleasant conversation together.
As we were talking, a man came to the door of the room to obtain a can of soda water from the vending machine. He glanced at me and said, "Why, you are Tom Monson."
"Yes," I replied. "And you look like a Hemingway." He acknowledged that he was Stephen Hemingway, the son of Alfred Eugene Hemingway, who had served as my counselor when I was a bishop many years ago and whom I called Gene. Stephen told me that his father was there in the same facility and was near death. He had been calling my name, and the family had wanted to contact me but had been unable to find a telephone number for me.
I excused myself immediately and went with Stephen up to the room of my former counselor, where others of his children were also gathered, his wife having passed away some years previous. The family members regarded my meeting Stephen in the lounge area as a response by our Heavenly Father to their great desire that I would see their father before he died and answer his call. I, too, felt that this was the case, for if Stephen had not entered the room in which I was visiting at precisely the time he did, I would not have known that Gene was even in that facility.
We gave a blessing to him. A spirit of peace prevailed. We had a lovely visit, after which I left.
The following morning a phone call revealed that Gene Hemingway had passed away—just 20 minutes after he had received the blessing from his son and me.
I expressed a silent prayer of thanks to Heavenly Father for His guiding influence which prompted my visit to St. Joseph Villa and led me to my dear friend Alfred Eugene Hemingway.
I like to think that Gene Hemingway's thoughts that evening, as we basked in the Spirit's glow, participated in humble prayer, and pronounced a priesthood blessing, echoed the words mentioned in the hymn "Master, the Tempest Is Raging," which I cited at the beginning of my message:
Linger, O blessed Redeemer!
Leave me alone no more,
And with joy I shall make the blest harbor
And rest on the blissful shore.
Peace Be Still, President Thomas S. Monson, October 2002 General Conference Priesthood Session.

Compassionate Service Examples – Hospital Visits

The Monsons were of hardy Northern European ancestry. They were hardworking, humble, loving parents. The family went without many of the luxuries of life, especially during the Great Depression. Yet Thomas Monson was tender-hearted and sensitive to those around him who were even less fortunate. His compassion was manifested one Christmas, when he couldn’t bear watching his friend’s family endure a Christmas dinner of cereal and water. He gave the family his two prize rabbits, saying while holding back tears, “It isn’t turkey, but they will make you a good Christmas dinner.”1
President Monson would be sensitive to the plight of the poor for the rest of his life. His renowned compassion, and his responsiveness to the promptings of the Holy Ghost have made him a special servant to the sick and needy all of his years. When President Monson became the bishop of the ward in which he had been raised, he served a congregation of 1,060 members, including 85 widows and the “largest welfare load in the state.” President Monson continued to be personally involved in the lives of these widows over many years and long after he was released from his calling as bishop, until every one of them had passed away.
A well-meaning person once told President Monson that it was useless for him to visit these elderly people, talking at length with them when they seldom answered a word. “You might as well save your time and breath, Elder Monson. They don’t know who you are.”
“Whether they know me or not is beside the point,” the determined Thomas Monson replied. “I don’t talk to them because they know me; I talk to them because I know them.” Jeffrey R. Holland, “President Thomas S. Monson: Man of Action, Man of Faith, Always ‘on the Lord’s Errand’,” Ensign, Feb 1986, 10.

Compassionate Service Examples – The Ward Renovates A Home

On a cold winter’s night in 1951 there was a knock at my door, and a German brother from Ogden, Utah, announced himself and said, “Are you Bishop Monson?” I answered in the affirmative. He began to weep and said, “My brother and his wife and family are coming here from Germany. They are going to live in your ward. Will you come with us to see the apartment we have rented for them?” On the way to the apartment, he told me he had not seen his brother for many years. Yet all through the holocaust of World War II, his brother had been faithful to the Church, serving as a branch president before the war took him to the Russian front.
I looked at the apartment. It was cold and dreary. The paint was peeling, the wallpaper soiled, the cupboards empty. A forty-watt bulb hanging from the living room ceiling revealed a linoleum floor covering with a large hole in the center. I was heartsick. I thought, “What a dismal welcome for a family which has endured so much.”
My thoughts were interrupted by the brother’s statement, “It isn’t much, but it’s better than they have in Germany.” With that, the key was left with me, along with the information that the family would arrive in Salt Lake City in three weeks—just two days before Christmas.
Sleep was slow in coming to me that night. The next morning was Sunday. In our ward welfare committee meeting, one of my counselors said, “Bishop, you look worried. Is something wrong?” I recounted to those present my experience of the night before, the details of the uninviting apartment. There were a few moments of silence. Then the group leader of the high priests said, “Bishop, did you say that apartment was inadequately lighted and that the kitchen appliances were in need of replacement?” I answered in the affirmative. He continued, “I am an electrical contractor. Would you permit the high priests of this ward to rewire that apartment? I would also like to invite my suppliers to contribute a new stove and a new refrigerator. Do I have your permission?” I answered with a glad “Certainly.”
Then the seventies president responded: “Bishop, as you know I’m in the carpet business. I would like to invite my suppliers to contribute some carpet, and the seventies can easily lay it and eliminate that worn linoleum.”
Then the president of the elders quorum spoke up. He was a painting contractor. He said, “I’ll furnish the paint. May the elders paint and wallpaper that apartment?”
The Relief Society president was next to speak: “We in the Relief Society cannot stand the thought of empty cupboards. May we fill them?”
The next three weeks are ever to be remembered. It seemed that the entire ward joined in the project. The days passed, and at the appointed time the family arrived from Germany. Again at my door stood the brother from Ogden. With an emotion-filled voice, he introduced to me his brother, wife, and their family. Then he asked, “Could we go visit the apartment?” As we walked up the staircase to the apartment, he repeated, “It isn’t much, but it’s more than they have had in Germany.” Little did he know what a transformation had taken place, that many who participated were inside waiting for our arrival.
The door opened to reveal a literal newness of life. We were greeted by the aroma of freshly painted woodwork and newly papered walls. Gone was the forty-watt bulb, along with the worn linoleum it had illuminated. We stepped on carpet deep and beautiful. A walk to the kitchen presented to our view a new stove and refrigerator. The cupboard doors were still open; however, they now revealed that every shelf was filled with food. The Relief Society as usual had done its work.
In the living room we began to sing Christmas hymns. We sang “Silent night! Holy night! All is calm; all is bright.” (Hymns, no. 160.) We sang in English; they sang in German. At the conclusion, the father, realizing that all of this was his, took me by the hand to express his thanks. His emotion was too great. He buried his head in my shoulder and repeated the words, “Mein Bruder, mein Bruder, mein Bruder.”
As we walked down the stairs and out into the night air, it was snowing. Not a word was spoken. Then a young girl asked, “Bishop, I feel better inside than I have ever felt before. Can you tell me why?”
I responded with the words of the Master: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matt. 25:40). Suddenly there came to mind the words from “O Little Town of Bethlehem”:
How silently, how silently,
The wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of his heaven.
No ear may hear his coming;
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him, still
The dear Christ enters in.
(Hymns, no. 165.)
The poet said, “God gave his children memory, that in life’s garden there might be June roses in December” (C. Anketall Studdert-Kennedy, “Roses in December,” in The Best Loved Poems of the American People. sel. Hazel Felleman, Garden City, N.Y.: Garden City Publishing Co., 1936, p. 363). In my garden of memories no rose is more beautiful or fragrant than the rose brought to bloom by my participation in the welfare effort. (“The Bishop—Center Stage in Welfare, November 1980 Ensign, page 89, Thomas S. Monson)

Compassionate Service Examples – Giving Up His Suit

According to the Church News on February 9, 2008 entitled “On Lord’s Errand” (a theme of President Monson all his life), President Monson is so caring that he is the type of person that would literally give the shirt off his back. On many occasions in Germany, for example, Elder Monson felt such compassion for their plight. Werner Adler had been a district president for 19 years, and he and his wife had been invited to General Conference – a remarkable opportunity that could include their chance to go to the temple and be sealed. However, they had not children, and the government was worried that they would not return. Sister Adler was not granted permission.
The article relates the following:
Brother Werner Adler said that after a district conference in Dresden in the 1960s, Elder Monson, then of the Twelve , noted that he was wearing a nearly worn-out suit. “I’m a big man, just about the same size as President Monson, so I guess that’s how I attracted his attention.” Brother Adler said, “In our country at that time, it was hard for just about anybody to buy new clothes; for a man my size, it was nearly impossible.”
Brother Adler said that President Monson changed into an old pair of trousers and a shirt and then gave his nearly new suit and shirt to Brother Adler. He offered to give him his shoes also, but they wouldn’t fit Brother Adler. Another member, Rudi Lehmann, said he thought they would fit his son, so President Monson removed his shoes and gave them to Brother Lehmann.”
“I’ll never forget that day,” Brother Adler said. “Apostle Thomas S. Monson had come to our conference dressed in a fine suit and was wearing practically new shoes. He left wearing a pair of old trousers, a shirt and old shoes.”
In a Church News interview on the occasion of his 70th birthday in 1997, President Monson said that one of the things that has brought him the most joy is “feeling the nudge of the Lord, the promptings. When you respond to them, you discover that in a way you’re answering someone’s prayer.”

Children

A happy home is but an earlier heaven. President George Albert Smith asked, “[Do] we want our homes to be happy [?] If we do, let them be the abiding place of prayer, thanksgiving and gratitude.”
There are those situations where children come to mortality with a physical or mental handicap. Try as we will, it is not possible to know why or how such events occur. I salute those parents who without complaint take such a child into their arms and into their lives and provide that added measure of sacrifice and love to one of Heavenly Father’s children.
One summer at Aspen Grove Family Camp, I observed a mother patiently feeding a teenage daughter injured at birth and totally dependent upon Mother. Mother administered each spoonful of food, each swallow of water, while holding steady the head and neck of her daughter. Silently I thought to myself, for 17 years, Mother has provided this service and all others to her daughter, never thinking of her own comfort, her own pleasure, her own food. May God bless such mothers, such fathers, such children? And He will. Thomas S. Monson, “Precious Children, a Gift from God,” Ensign, June 2000, 2

Memories of Dad

Ann (Thomas S. Monson’s daughter) remembers that although the ever-present briefcase was always open and her father was always reading some necessary papers, he made his children feel part of his ministry and invariably shared spiritual experiences from his assignments. “My fondest memories,” she says, “are of him coming home Sunday evenings after a stake conference assignment or mission tour and hearing him tell of the special inspiration he had in calling a patriarch or of the faith-promoting experiences he had interviewing missionaries.” There were plenty of such stories for the Monson children to enjoy because daily, weekly, monthly their father was having special impressions and inspired promptings regarding calls to be extended and actions to be taken. Jeffrey R. Holland, “President Thomas S. Monson: Man of Action, Man of Faith, Always ‘on the Lord’s Errand,’ ” Ensign, Feb. 1986, 10

President and Sister Monson’s daughter Ann Monson Dibb said recently of her mother, “As we were growing up, my father’s responsibilities as a member of the Council of the Twelve often took him away from home. Many times Dad would be touring missions around the world, gone for five or six weeks at a time. Mother conveyed to us that he was doing his duty and that we would be watched over and protected whenever he was away. She communicated this message to us not only with words but by her quiet manner of making sure everything which needed to be done was always accomplished. My mother is unlike many of the women of today’s generation. Instead of looking for the recognition of the world, she has always received her acknowledgment of worth from such things as the happy smile of a son or the outstretched hand of a grandchild. President Wilford Woodruff once said, ‘The mother has greater influence over her posterity than any other person can have, and her influence is felt through time and eternity.’ I am grateful to my mother, thankful for her influence, and pray that I might always be worthy of her love. As I reflect upon the many blessings which I have received as the daughter of an Apostle of the Lord, the one which means the most to me is the gift and blessing of the woman he married, my mother.” Jeffrey R. Holland, “President Thomas S. Monson: Finishing the Course, Keeping the Faith,” Ensign, Sept. 1994, 12-13.

The Irving Wilson Story (Canada Toronto Mission)

"Another evidence of faith took place when I first visited the St. Thomas Branch of the mission, situated about 120 miles from Toronto. My wife and I had been invited to attend the branch sacrament meeting and to speak to the members there. As we drove along a fashionable street, we saw many church buildings and wondered which one was ours. None was. We located the address which had been provided and discovered it to be a decrepit lodge hall. Our branch met in the basement of the lodge hall and was comprised of perhaps twenty-five members, twelve of whom were in attendance. The same individuals conducted the meeting, blessed and passed the sacrament, offered the prayers, and sang the songs.

At the conclusion of the services, the branch president, Irving Wilson, asked if he could meet with me. At this meeting, he handed to me a copy of the Improvement Era, forerunner of today’s Ensign. Pointing to a picture of one of our new chapels in Australia, President Wilson declared, “This is the building we need here in St. Thomas.”

I smiled and responded, “When we have enough members here to justify and to pay for such a building, I am sure we will have one.” At that time, the local members were required to raise 30 percent of the cost of the site and the building, in addition to the payment of tithing and other offerings.

He countered, “Our children are growing to maturity. We need that building, and we need it now!”

I provided encouragement for them to grow in numbers by their personal efforts to fellowship and teach. The outcome is a classic example of faith, coupled with effort and crowned with testimony.

President Wilson requested six additional missionaries to be assigned to St. Thomas. When this was accomplished, he called the missionaries to a meeting in the back room of his small jewelry store, where they knelt in prayer. He then asked one elder to hand to him the yellow-page telephone directory, which was on a nearby table. President Wilson took the book in hand and observed, “If we are ever to have our dream building in St. Thomas, we will need a Latter-day Saint to design it. Since we do not have a member who is an architect, we will simply have to convert one.” With his finger moving down the column of listed architects, he paused at one name and said, “This is the one we will invite to my home to hear the message of the Restoration.”

President Wilson followed the same procedure with regard to plumbers, electricians, and craftsmen of every description. Nor did he neglect other professions, feeling a desire for a well-balanced branch. The individuals were invited to his home to meet the missionaries, the truth was taught, testimonies were borne and conversion resulted. Those newly baptized then repeated the procedure themselves, inviting others to listen, week after week and month after month.

The St. Thomas Branch experienced marvelous growth. Within two and one-half years, a site was obtained, a beautiful building was constructed, and an inspired dream became a living reality. That branch is now a thriving ward in a stake of Zion.
When I reflect on the town of St. Thomas, I dwell not on the ward’s hundreds of members and many dozens of families; rather, in memory I return to that sparse sacrament meeting in the lodge-hall basement and the Lord’s promise, “Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” (Matthew 18:20.)" (Thomas S. Monson, “Days Never to Be Forgotten,” Ensign, [November 1990]: 67).

Lesson Learned As Mission President Taught By President N. Eldon Tanner

"In 1959, not long after I began my service as president of the Canadian Mission, headquartered in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, I met N. Eldon Tanner, a prominent Canadian who just months later would be called as an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, then to the Quorum of the Twelve, and then as a counselor to four Presidents of the Church.

At the time I met him, President Tanner was president of the vast Trans-Canada Pipelines, Ltd., and president of the Canada Calgary Stake. He was known as “Mr. Integrity” in Canada. During that first meeting, we discussed, among other subjects, the cold Canadian winters, where storms rage, temperatures can linger well below freezing for weeks at a time, and where icy winds lower those temperatures even further. I asked President Tanner why the roads and highways in western Canada basically remained intact during such winters, showing little or no signs of cracking or breaking, while the road surfaces in many areas where winters are less cold and less severe developed cracks and breaks and potholes.

Said he, “The answer is in the depth of the base of the paving materials. In order for them to remain strong and unbroken, it is necessary to go very deep with the foundation layers. When the foundations are not deep enough, the surfaces cannot withstand the extremes of weather.”

Over the years I have thought often of this conversation and of President Tanner’s explanation, for I recognize in his words a profound application for our lives. Stated simply, if we do not have a deep foundation of faith and a solid testimony of truth, we may have difficulty withstanding the harsh storms and icy winds of adversity which inevitably come to each of us." (Thomas S. Monson, “How Firm a Foundation,” Ensign, [November 2006]: 62, 67–68).

More Parenting Memories

Our influence is surely felt in our respective families. Sometimes we fathers forget that once we, too, were boys, and boys at times can be vexing to parents.
I recall how much, as a youngster, I liked dogs. One day I took my wagon and placed a wooden orange crate in it and went looking for dogs. At that time dogs were everywhere to be found: at school, walking along the sidewalks, or exploring vacant lots, of which there were many. As I would find a dog and capture it, I placed it in the crate, took it home, locked it in the coal shed, and turned the latch on the door. That day I think I brought home six dogs of varying sizes and made them my prisoners after this fashion. I had no idea what I would do with all those dogs, so I didn’t reveal my deed to anyone.
Dad came home from work and, as was his custom, took the coal bucket and went to the coal shed to fill it. Can you imagine his shock and utter consternation as he opened the door and immediately faced six dogs, all attempting to escape at once? As I recall, Dad flushed a little bit, and then he calmed down and quietly told me, “Tommy, coal sheds are for coal. Other people’s dogs rightfully belong to them.” By observing him, I learned a lesson in patience and calmness.
It is a good thing I did, for a similar event occurred in my life with our youngest son, Clark.
Clark has always liked animals, birds, reptiles—anything that is alive. Sometimes that resulted in a little chaos in our home. One day in his boyhood he came home from Provo Canyon with a water snake, which he named Herman.
Right off the bat Herman got lost. Sister Monson found him in the silverware drawer. Water snakes have a way of being where you least expect them. Well, Clark moved Herman to the bathtub, put a plug in the drain, put a little water in, and had a sign taped to the back of the tub which read, “Don’t use this tub. It belongs to Herman.” So we had to use the other bathroom while Herman occupied that sequestered place.
But then one day, to our amazement, Herman disappeared. His name should have been Houdini. He was gone! So the next day Sister Monson cleaned up the tub and prepared it for normal use. Several days went by.
One evening I decided it was time to take a leisurely bath; so I filled the tub with a lot of warm water, and then I peacefully lay down in the tub for a few moments of relaxation. I was lying there just pondering, when the soapy water reached the level of the overflow drain and began to flow through it. Can you imagine my surprise when, with my eyes focused on that drain, Herman came swimming out, right for my face? I yelled out to my wife, “Frances! Here comes Herman!”
Well, Herman was captured again, put in a foolproof box, and we made a little excursion to Vivian Park in Provo Canyon and there released Herman into the beautiful waters of the South Fork Creek. Herman was never again to be seen by us.
Thomas S. Monson, “Peace, Be Still,” Ensign, Nov. 2002, 53

Eternal Courtship with Frances (Sister Monson)

One of the sweetest chapters in a book of life filled with things of the heart and of the spirit begins with President Monson’s courtship of Frances Johnson. “Mom is the other half of Dad’s success story, the half no one really knows,” says their daughter Ann Monson Dibb. “He gave a conference address once entitled ‘Anonymous’ about people who serve so faithfully and give so much, yet never seek recognition. That talk applies beautifully to my mother; maybe he even wrote it about her. He couldn’t have done what he has done without her.” Jeffrey R. Holland, “President Thomas S. Monson: Man of Action, Man of Faith, Always ‘on the Lord’s Errand,’ ” Ensign, Feb. 1986, 10

Memories of a Great Teacher

In the home, the school, or the house of God, there is one teacher whose life overshadows all others. He taught of life and death, of duty and destiny. He lived not to be served, but to serve; not to receive, but to give; not to save his life, but to sacrifice it for others. He described a love more beautiful than lust, a poverty richer than treasure. It was said of this teacher that he taught with authority and not as did the scribes. I speak of the Master Teacher, even Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Savior and Redeemer of all mankind.
When dedicated teachers respond to his gentle invitation, “Come learn of me,” they learn, but they also become partakers of his divine power.
It was my experience as a small boy to come under the influence of such a teacher. In our Sunday school class, she taught us concerning the creation of the world, the fall of Adam, the atoning sacrifice of Jesus. She brought to her classroom as honored guests Moses, Joshua, Peter, Thomas, Paul, and even Christ. Though we did not see them, we learned to love, honor, and emulate them.
Never was her teaching so dynamic nor its impact more everlasting as one Sunday morning when she announced sadly to us the passing of a classmate’s mother. We had missed Billy that morning but knew not the reason for his absence. The lesson featured the theme, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” Midway through the lesson, our teacher closed the manual and opened our eyes and our ears and our hearts to the glory of God. She asked, “How much money do we have in our class party fund?”
Depression days prompted a proud answer: “Four dollars and seventy-five cents.”
Then, ever so gently, she suggested: “Billy’s family is hard-pressed and grief-stricken. What would you think of the possibility of visiting the family members this morning and giving to them your fund?”
Ever shall I remember the tiny band walking those three city blocks, entering Billy’s home, greeting him, his brother, sisters, and father. Noticeably absent was his mother. Always I shall treasure the tears which glistened in the eyes of all as the white envelope containing our precious party fund passed from the delicate hand of our teacher to the needy hand of a grief-stricken father. We fairly skipped our way back to the chapel. Our hearts were lighter than they had ever been, our joy more full, our understanding more profound. A God-inspired teacher had taught her boys and girls an eternal lesson of divine truth: “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” Thomas S. Monson, “Only a Teacher,” Ensign, Jan. 1990, 2

Grand parenting

We ourselves can learn from our children and grandchildren. They have no fear. They have no doubt concerning our Heavenly Father’s love for them. They love Jesus and want to be like Him.
Our grandson, six-year-old Jeffrey Monson Dibb, accompanied by his six-year-old girlfriend, paused at an end table in his house on which there was a picture of Elder Jeffrey R. Holland. The young girl pointed to the picture and asked, “Who is that man?”
Jeff replied, “Oh, that’s Elder Jeffrey Holland of the Quorum of Twelve Apostles. He’s named after me!”
This same namesake of Elder Holland’s, along with his girlfriend, went for a walk one day. They marched up the front steps of a home, not knowing who lived there or what affiliation they might have with the Church. They knocked on the front door, and a woman answered. Without the slightest hesitation, Jeff Dibb said to her, “We are the visiting home teachers. May we come in?” They were ushered into the living room and were asked to be seated. With total faith the children addressed the woman, “Do you have a treat for us?” What could she do? She produced a treat, and they had a nice conversation. The impromptu teachers departed, uttering a sincere “Thank you.”
“Come back again,” they heard the woman say, with a smile on her face.
“We will,” came the reply.
The parents of the two youngsters heard of the incident. I am certain they were restrained in counseling the little ones. Perhaps they remembered the words from the scriptures: “And a little child shall lead them.”
Thomas S. Monson, “Teach the Children,” Ensign, Nov. 1997, 17

World-wide Service

Some years ago, while visiting the members and missionaries in Australia, I witnessed a sublime example depicting how a treasury of testimony can bless and sanctify a home. The mission president, Horace D. Ensign, and I were traveling the long distance from Sydney to Darwin, where I was to break ground for our first chapel in that city. En route we had a scheduled stop at a mining community named Mt. Isa. As we entered the small airport at Mt. Isa, a woman and her two children approached. She said, “I am Judith Louden, a member of the Church, and these are my two children. We thought you might be on this flight, so we have come to visit with you during your brief stopover.” She explained that her husband was not a member of the Church and that she and the children were indeed the only members in the entire area. We shared lessons and bore testimony.
Time passed. As we prepared to reboard, Sister Louden looked so forlorn, so alone. She pleaded, “You can’t go yet; I have so missed the Church.” Suddenly the loudspeaker announced a thirty-minute mechanical delay of our flight. Sister Louden whispered, “My prayer has just been answered.” She then asked how she might influence her husband to show an interest in the gospel. We counseled her to include him in their home Primary lesson each week and be to him a living testimony of the gospel. I mentioned we would send to her a subscription to The Children’s Friend and additional helps for her family teaching. We urged that she never give up on her husband.
We departed Mt. Isa, a city to which I have never returned. I shall, however, always hold dear in memory that sweet mother and those precious children extending a tear-filled expression and a fond wave of gratitude and good-bye.
Several years later, while speaking at a priesthood leadership meeting in Brisbane, Australia, I emphasized the significance of gospel scholarship in the home and the importance of living the gospel and being examples of the truth. I shared with the men assembled the account of Sister Louden and the impact her faith and determination had made on me. As I concluded, I said, “I suppose I’ll never know if Sister Louden’s husband ever joined the Church, but he couldn’t have found a better model to follow.”
One of the leaders raised his hand, then stood and declared, “Brother Monson, I am Richard Louden. The woman of whom you speak is my wife. The children [his voice quavered] are our children. We are a forever family now, thanks in part to the persistence and the patience of my dear wife. She did it all.” Not a word was spoken. The silence was broken only by sniffles and muffled sobs and marked by the sight of tears streaming from every eye. Thomas S. Monson, “Hallmarks of a Happy Home,” Ensign, Nov. 1988, 69

Pioneer Memories

Not surprisingly, as the pioneer theme is presented, each goes back in memory to his or her own family line. There are usually examples to identify and which fit the definition of a pioneer: “one who goes before, showing others the way to follow.” Some, if not all, made great sacrifices to leave behind comfort and ease and respond to that clarion call of their newly found faith.
Two of my own great-grandparents fit the mold of many. Gibson and Cecelia
Sharp Condie lived in Clackmannan, Scotland. Their families were engaged in coal mining—at peace with the world, surrounded by relatives and friends, and housed in fairly comfortable quarters in a land they loved. They listened to the message of the missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and were converted to the depths of their very soul. They heard the call to journey to Zion and knew they must answer the call.
They sold their possessions and prepared for a hazardous voyage across the mighty Atlantic Ocean. With five children, they boarded a sailing vessel, all their worldly possessions in a tiny trunk. They traveled 3,000 miles across the waters, eight long, weary weeks on a treacherous sea—night and day nothing but water—eight weeks of watching and waiting, with poor food, poor water, and no help beyond the length and breadth of that small sailing vessel.
In the midst of this soul-trying situation, their son, Nathaniel, sickened and died. My great-grandparents loved that son just as much as your parents love you; and when his eyes were closed in death, their hearts were torn asunder. To add to their grief, the law of the sea must be obeyed. Wrapped in a canvas weighed down with iron, his body was consigned to a watery grave. As they sailed away, only those parents knew the crushing blow dealt to wounded hearts. Gibson Condie and his good wife were comforted by the words, “Not my will, but Thy will, O Father.”
That first trek of 1847, organized and led by Brigham Young, is described by historians as one of the greatest epics of United States history. Mormon pioneers by the hundreds suffered and died from disease, exposure, or starvation. There were some who, lacking wagons and teams, literally walked the 1,300 miles across the plains and through the mountains, pushing and pulling handcarts.
As the long, painful struggle approached its welcome end, a jubilant spirit filled each heart. Tired feet and weary bodies somehow found strength.
Time-marked pages of a dusty pioneer journal speak movingly to us: “We bowed ourselves down in humble prayer to Almighty God with hearts full of thanksgiving to Him, and dedicated this land unto Him for the dwelling place of His people.”
We honor those who endured incredible hardships. We praise their names and reflect on their sacrifices.
What about our time? Are there pioneering experiences for us? Will future generations reflect with gratitude on our efforts, our examples? You young women, wherever you are this night, can indeed be pioneers in courage, in faith, in charity, in determination. Thomas S. Monson, “Pioneers All,” Ensign, May 1997, 93