President Dieter F. Uchtdorf

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf

Childhood. Dieter Friedrich Uchtdorf was born November 6, 1940 in Ostrava, Czechoslovakia to Karl Albert Uchtdorf, a German customs official and his wife, Hilde Else Opeltt. My father, was drafted into the army and sent to the western front of the war. As the war raged with more severity and the eastern front moved toward our town, my mother, alone with her four children and in an effort to protect them, made the decision to leave our home and all our earthly possessions behind and head west, toward the home of her parents in East Germany.

It was the winter of 1944--one of the coldest, harshest winters of World War II. My mother instructed us to take only warm clothes and food, but no other possessions. At this time, we were members of the Lutheran Church, not even aware that there was a restored Church of Jesus Christ. Considering this, it is interesting that she took most of our family records and family pictures on our flight to the west.

As a four-year-old boy, I was so sad as we left behind our nice home with all my toys and a large balcony. How I loved this balcony and the view it provided, even though I once got my head stuck between two of its pillars; my ears--my pretty big ears--kept me from getting back out again. Fortunately, there was my mother to help and a big crowd to watch.

We were on one of the last refugee trains heading westward, and the journey, which would usually take one or two days, took us almost two weeks. Traveling in a freezing train, stopping over in refugee camps, and heading out toward the west again--exhaustion, hunger, and fear were the continuous ingredients of this perilous flight.

One night the train stopped again at a train station, and, as usual, my mother stepped out in search of some food for us children. Often, kind people came to those stations and brought milk and bread and other food for the refugee children. But this time when my mother returned with some precious food for us, the train was gone, with all of her four children in it. During this time of the war, many family members were separated from each other, never to be united again. There she was, in a war zone, without her husband, alone on deserted railroad tracks, realizing that she had just lost all of her children! Later she shared with us how lonely and devastated she felt. The physical stress of the effort to flee to the west, and the emotional stress culminating in the apparent loss of all her children in a few minutes of time, was overwhelming to her. She started to pray--the only source of solace
available to her at that desperate time. I know today that the Light of Christ moved her to pray with faith, as a good Lutheran, and then to get up and look around to see if she could find the train somewhere else at the station. After a short period of terror and despair, she got on her feet and moved from one track to another and eventually found our train on a parallel track quite a distance away, where it had been moved during her absence.

With the protection of God, and under the inspired leadership of our mother, we reached her hometown and were reunited with her parents in Zwickau, East Germany. Those dangerous days, as we fled in front of an oncoming army, and the following months, as the war came to an end, were among the most troublesome of our lives. Someof my memories of these days are of darkness, of night, of coldness. But with the help of

God, we were moved into a place where a light was shining forth for all who came out of that darkness and coldness and who were willing to accept the Savior's invitation: "come and see" (John 1:39). It was in this town of Zwickau that my grandmother was invited by an elderly single woman--an elderly single woman--to attend church with her. The setting was still desperate--the war was just over; food was scarce, and so were all other goods, like coal to heat our homes or cook our meals; houses were destroyed; and a family was fortunate if they were all still alive and had a roof over their heads.

My grandmother accepted the invitation of this dear single sister to attend sacrament meeting with her. Her name was Sister Ewig, and she invited my grandmother to church. This act of kindness might appear small and not too hard to do, but it changed our lives forever. Looking back from today's circumstances of comfort, it is almost unbelievable what was happening then. We attended church in a cold, cramped back room meeting place with electricity often failing, leaving us in the dark. But at the same time, this room was filled with the Spirit, and the divine light of the message of the restored gospel was in great abundance, and we were surrounded by the love, friendship, and helping hands of the dear members. When our family went there, we saw many children. All of us were very impressed by the families, the children, and the music, especially the singing. I felt at home right away

All of our family joined the Church. All were baptized except me, because I was only six at the time. Two years later I was baptized too, in a local indoor swimming pool by one of the Church leaders in our branch. Because of the circumstances during the postwar poverty, I had not learned to swim at this young age and was apprehensive to enter the water to be baptized. This was my first experience in a public indoor swimming pool. I will always remember the feeling of warmth, safety, and importance as I came out of the water after this sacred ordinance had been performed.

How grateful I am to these two women of the Church--my grandmother and my mother! They are true modern-day pioneers! They went before and ventured into new spiritual territory. They helped me to gain a testimony of the restored Church of Jesus Christ. They had faith, and they radiated love to a little boy, even in places and times of darkness, despair, and coldness. The light of the gospel, bright as the sun, lighted up their life in these challenging times.

And then in return, the warmth of their light and example helped me to feel secure and well grounded in the principles of the gospel. Teachings of the Gospel helped the family cope with the devastation that surrounded them. "One of the things I appreciated very much as a youngster was the saying, 'If the Lord is with you, who can be against you?'" Elder Uchtdorf said in a interview with the Church News. "It gave me strength to go ahead in difficult times."

We met for church in an old villa. Our chapel had a stained-glass window of Joseph Smith in the Sacred Grove. Whenever the sun shone on it, I felt that the story it illustrated and what I had learned in Primary about the First Vision were true. I knew that was how Joseph Smith received his revelation and how the return to earth of Jesus Christ’s Church started. This testimony was very important to me, and I learned to appreciate Joseph Smith very much.

We had a pump organ in our chapel. I wanted to help at church, and pumping the organ was one of my jobs when I was eight and nine years old. It felt wonderful to contribute to sacrament meeting by pumping the organ so the congregation could sing.

One song, “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam,” really impressed me. I felt very close to Jesus when I sang it. I knew He wanted me to be a sunbeam for Him. I have never forgotten that song—I still love it—or the testimony it gave me of the Savior.

I share these very personal experiences with you today, hoping to impress upon you that wherever you live, whatever circumstances you live in, whatever your background or challenges might be, the gospel light has the power and purpose to bring blessings into your life and into the lives of those placed in your path. The gospel of Jesus Christ has been restored to bring blessings to our Heavenly Father's children. You are planted in your country, your community, your family to facilitate these blessings. I urge you to bloom where you are planted!

A few years after my baptism, my family became refugees for a second time. The political regime in East Germany perceived my father as a dissident. His life was at risk, and we had to leave the country overnight, leaving behind everything we possessed.

Again we had only the clothes we wore, some food for the trip, and family records, as well as family pictures. By the time I was 11, we had been refugees twice within only seven years. But this time we had already received the gospel of Jesus Christ. We had made covenants with the Lord through baptism, and we came to a branch in Frankfurt, West Germany, with other members who had the same principles and precious values.

Until my father could find a job like he had before, he and my mother operated a laundry to make a living, and I was the laundry delivery boy. I saw some shiny red bicycles, and I wished I could have one to make my deliveries. But I needed a heavy-duty bicycle to pull the cart with the laundry on it. I rode around pulling that heavy laundry cart before school and after school. It was hard to see the other children play, especially during the winter months. But everybody in our family had to work hard, and I knew I was an important part of the family business. I felt needed and valued.

Youth. As I grew older, I learned not only the value of hard work but also about the blessings of doing things that at the time you don’t realize are important and good for you. During World War II, when I was very little, I came down with a lung disease, but no one knew it at the time. I knew I was easily out of breath when I rode the delivery bicycle. I thought it was because the cart was heavy. Later, when I joined the air force, I learned that because of that hard work, somehow my body had healed itself. I had built up endurance. I had built up immunity to disease. I had built up strength. When the doctors saw those spots on my lungs, they questioned me about them. They reported that the disease took care of itself, and they said I passed my physical. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to become a pilot. I have been a pilot for 35 years, and I was a chief pilot for Lufthansa German Airlines. As a lad growing up in post-war Germany, Dieter was faced with decisions on how to order his life. Crediting good leaders, Dieter stayed close to the Gospel and attended his assigned meetings regularly.

How He Met His Wife. Into this branch, just a few years later, came a young widow with her two daughters. The missionaries had found this beautiful family. When I saw Harriet the first time, with her dark brown eyes, I thought, "These missionaries are really doing a great job!" Even as a teenager I liked Harriet quite a lot.

My bold advances, however, showed only marginal success. I tried, for instance, to influence the seating at the sacrament table so I could pass the sacrament to her. This did not impress her very much. On my way to Church activities during the week, I usually rode my nice bicycle and often stopped at their home to ask if Harriet would want to have a ride to church on my bicycle. Harriet never accepted; she always declined. Sometimes, however, her mother was there and would say, "Harriet will walk, but I will gladly ride with you on your bike to church." This wasn't really what I was hoping for at the time, but I later realized it is an advantage to be on good terms with the mother of the girl ofyour dreams!

In another interview, speaking of how they met, President Uchtdorf said that itt was while attending MIA as a thirteen year old priesthood bearer, that he first met, Harriet, who later became his wife. "I always loved her," he recalled. "I fell for her from the very beginning, even as a Deacon. She was a very beautiful girl. She still is." If it was love at first sight for Dieter, the same cannot be said for Harriet. Though they enjoyed learning to dance together, it was not until after he had completed his military duty and came back to Germany to begin his airline pilot training that she began to appreciate that he might be the right man. They were married December 14, 1962 in the Swiss Temple and have two children.

Sister Carmen Reich, my mother-in-law, was truly an elect lady. She embraced the gospel in a most difficult and dark time of her life, and she liberated herself from grief and sorrow. As a young woman and a widow, and the mother of two young girls, she emancipated herself from a world of old traditions into a world of great spirituality. She embraced the teachings of the gospel, with its intellectual and spiritual power, on a fast track. As you heard, when the missionaries gave her the Book of Mormon and invited her to read the marked verses, she read the whole book within a few days. She knew things beyond the understanding of her peers because she knew them by the Spirit of God. She was the humblest of the humble, the wisest of the wise, because she was willing and pure enough to believe when God had spoken. She was baptized November 7, 1954, and was asked by the missionary who baptized her to write her testimony down in December, only a few weeks after her baptism. The missionary wanted to use her testimony in his teachings to help others feel the true spirit of conversion. Fortunately, Elder Jenkins kept the handwritten original for more than 40 years and then returned it to her as a very special and loving gift. What a wonderful act of love. Carmen Reich, my dear mother-in-law, passed away in 2000 at age 83.

In 1951 and 1952 I attended the Frankfurt Branch, which was not as big as the one in Zwickau. The Frankfurt meetinghouse was small, and we had classes in the basement. I recall missionaries teaching us important gospel principles. One missionary, Elder Stringham, impressed me very much with his teaching about the Pearl of Great Price, especially where Moses is being taught he is a son of God. Another thing Elder Stringham taught me was the scripture that says, “If God be for us, who can be against us?” (Rom. 8:31) This gave me comfort and courage, because at that time the future looked bleak in Germany. The city of Frankfurt was in ruins with bombed-out buildings. That teaching has stayed with me throughout my life. It taught me I need to be on the Lord’s side. I cannot afford not to be on the Lord’s side.

College years. Though times may have been difficult, young Dieter did persevere... as a member of the Church, as a student, and in his career He studied engineering and later continued his education in business administration in Cologne, Germany, and international management in Lausanne, Switzerland. Elder Uchtdorf joined the German air force (Luftwaffe) in 1959 and received his pilot wings in Big Spring, Texas, and fighter pilot training in Phoenix, Arizona. After leaving the Luftwaffe, he attended airline pilot school and graduated in 1965.

He also attended Business Administration School in Cologne, Germany and the International Management Institute in Lausanne, Switzerland. He pursued a career as an airline pilot, flying for Lufthansa Airlines beginning in 1970. He quickly moved into management positions, serving as head of cockpit crews, then director of inflight services, and as head of Lufthansa's airline pilot school. After a stint as the check and training captain for Boeing 747s, he became Senior Vice President for flight operations and Chief Pilot for the airline.

Career as a pilot. He worked as an airline captain from 1970 to 1996, flying multiple types of airplanes and completing his career flying the B747. He held several executive positions, including head of the airline pilot school, director of in-flight services, and head of cockpit crews. At the time of his call as a General Authority, he was the senior vice president of flight operations and chief pilot of Lufthansa German Airlines. He was also chairman of the Flight Operations Committee of the International Air Transport Association. He has served as a board member for several government and business executive committees.

Grandparents. Elder and Sister Uchtdorf love to travel. They have visited most parts of the world. They enjoy hiking, dancing, classical music, and spending time with their children and grandchildren, who all live in Europe

As a pilot, I flew all over the world. In all those 35 years, I never got tired of looking out the window at the stars, the clouds, the landscapes. I could see the beauty of the different countries with their different cultures. I know from going to those different places and seeing the people and the Church in those different places that the gospel is for everyone, no matter what nation you live in or what your traditions are. It is the gospel of Jesus Christ. The word of God, whether it is written in the scriptures or spoken by the living prophets, whether we read it in Church magazines or hear it at general conferences, is for every culture, in every nation.

I challenge you children to follow the words of the prophets. When you do, you will find the answers to your questions, whether you are 6, 9, 11, 19, or, like me, 57 years old. (April 1999, Liahona, Friend to Friend)

At thirty-five thousand feet, President Dieter F. Uchtdorf gained a perspective of the vastness, the glory, and the diversity of the earth. His career as a pilot for Lufthansa Airlines has afforded him that perspective and an appreciation for the beauty of God's handiwork. “I see how beautiful the deserts and the jungles and the seas are,” he said in an interview with the Ensign. “Even after ten long hours in a cockpit, I am amazed at the sunrise. I marvel at the world’s different cultures. Everyone is different, and yet we are the same.”

The Uchtdorfs have witnessed near miraculous events in their native Germany. Rising from the ashes of World War II, Germany became an economic powerhouse. And as Germany's economic engine grew more powerful, so also was the growth of the Church. "Years ago, President Monson came to Germany and dedicated the land again and blessed it. That was when the wall was still up. It was a terrible situation in East Germany. I thought that Germany would be reunited at some time but I thought that it would be my great-great-grandchildren who would see it. But after President Monson's blessing, things changed quickly. We had a temple built in East Germany. The political situation changed completely, and the wall fell down. You can take the blessing and check all the things President Monson said and they've all been fulfilled."

Church service. At the present time, Germany hosts two temples and the Church is strong, stable, and growing therein. Elder Uchtdorf and Harriet have played no small role in this remarkable growth. He has served as a Young Men's President, in an Elder's Quorum Presidency, as a Stake Missionary, a Stake High Councilor, a Stake Mission President, Vice-Chairman of the Frankfurt Temple Committee, and twice as a Stake President. In April of 1994, after nine years as President of the Mannheim Germany Stake, he was given a five-year call to enter the ranks of the General Authorities as a member of the Second Quorum of the Seventy. He would serve but two of those five years before being called into the First Quorum of the Seventy on April 6, 1996. President Dieter F. Uchtdorf was named as Second Counselor in the First Presidency of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on February 4, 2008. He was sustained as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on October 2. 2004. He has served as a General Authority since April 1994, and served as a member of the Presidency of the Seventy from August 2002 until his call to the Twelve.

Family Home Evening Game: To learn more about President Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the First Presidency, match the lettered pictures above with the clues below.

___ 1. Elder Uchtdorf was raised in this country.

___ 2. He is the first Apostle to be called in more than 50 years who was not born in the United States, but he says he was not called to represent a certain group of people. Like all Apostles, he represents this perfect man.

___ 3. As a child, he worked hard in the family business, pulling a laundry cart behind one of these.

___ 4. Growing up in a war-torn city where buildings had been bombed, he found hope in reading and learning from these. One of his favorite verses was Romans 8:31: “If God be for us, who can be against us?” He says: “This gave me comfort and courage, because at that time the future looked bleak.”

___ 5. The Church building he attended as a small child had a stained-glass window depicting this event. Whenever the light shone through the glass, he thought about his testimony and developed a stronger appreciation for Joseph Smith.

___ 6. One of his first callings as a child was to pump this instrument so the congregation could sing.

___ 7. He married Harriet Reich, and they were sealed here in December 1962. They have two children.

___ 8. For 35 years he operated one of these. He eventually became chief pilot and senior vice president of flight operations for an airline.

___ 9. As he flew, he never grew tired of seeing these out the window. He also says: “I could see the beauty of the different countries with their different cultures. I know from going to those different places and seeing the people and the Church in those different places that the gospel is for everyone, no matter what nation you live in or what your traditions are. It is the gospel of Jesus Christ.”

Adapted from “Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Seventy,” Liahona, Apr. 1999, F2–F4; see Friend, June 1998, 7–8; “Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf,” Liahona and Ensign, Nov. 2004, 125–26.

Answers:

1E (Germany), 2A, 3D, 4I, 5B (First Vision), 6C, 7H (Bern Switzerland Temple), 8G, 9F.

Sources for the quotes in the summary included: Grandpa Bills GA website, Speech from Woman's Conference by Elder Uchtdorf, Liahona, Anne Marie's Musings Website, and LDS.Org Website of Press Release.

President Henry B. Eyring, First Counselor in First Presidency

Family Home Evening Lesson Preparation: Pick your favorite story about President Erying and use it to teach a principle. You could teach about the importance of journals, listening to your wife's inspiration, working on the church farm, listening to long church talks, or reading Louis L'Amour novels....and many more.

President Henry B. Eyring

Background

President Eyring was born on May 31, 1933 in Princeton, New Jersey. He served in the U.S. Air Force and as a stake missionary. He has a BA in Physics from the University of Utah, a Masters in Business from Harvard and a PhD in Business Administration from Harvard.

President Eyring was a professor at Stanford, President of Ricks College, Commissioner of Education for the Church, in the Presiding Bishopric and was called to be an apostle on April 1, 1995. His father was a famous scientist and he met his wife at a Harvard church meeting.

His motto in life is “be the best you can.”

His family philosophy is “family relationships are very complicated. You can’t hope to read every social science book ever written on family relations and the rearing of children. Some of that information is very useful because you can get some ideas. But the only way to be effective is to have a few principles in your heart that you can hold deeply and then to act out of them.”

President Erying is always the first one up in the morning in his home. He prepares wonderful breakfast. He paints with watercolors to illustrate colorful family home evening teaching materials.

He never pursued sports that he could not do with out his family. He is known for the tradition of his “Saturday Morning Projects.” He would organize work projects for the family and they would all do them on Saturday mornings. He also had a little desk top stove in his office at Ricks. He would invite his children to come by and he would cook a lunch for them.

His “advice to a newly called person in the church: 1) you are called of God 2) the Lord will guide you by revelation and 3) the Lord will magnify you. Testify using the voice that is the same He would use and life using the hand He would use.” (October 2002 General Conference)

Childhood

Boring talks. President Henry B. Eyring once related a story to a gathering of BYU alumni that I attended about his father from when he was a youth. He said they were sitting in church listening to what he thought was the worst talk he had ever heard. It was high council Sunday and the speaker just droned on. Every time he looked over at his father he saw him fully entranced by the speaker. He kept watching his father and never once did his father loose focus.

After the meeting Eyring asked his father, “Dad, wasn’t that the worst talk you’ve ever heard? Why were you so interested in it?” His father responded, “Hal, I have followed three practices every time I listen to a talk. First, I pray to Heavenly Father that he will help the speaker deliver the message He wants him to share, second, I pray to know what it is that he wants me to learn from the speaker and third, I repeat in my mind what I think the speaker is trying to say. And you know since doing that, I have never heard a bad talk. (Personal Experience of Reid A. Robison)

Serving Others. President Faust related the following story about Elder Eyring’s father in General Conference. A story shared by our beloved associate, Elder Henry B. Eyring, illustrates this principle of commitment still further. This story is about his father, the great scientist Henry Eyring, who served on the Bonneville Stake high council. He was responsible for the welfare farm, which included a field of onions that needed to be weeded.

At that time, he was nearly 80 and suffering from painful bone cancer. He assigned himself to do weeding even though the pain was so great that he pulled himself along on his stomach with his elbows. The pain was too great for him to kneel. Yet he smiled, laughed, and talked happily with the others who were there that day weeding that field of onions. I now quote what Elder Eyring said of this incident:

"After all the work was finished and the onions were all weeded, someone [said to] him, 'Henry, good heavens! You didn't pull those weeds, did you? Those weeds were sprayed two days ago, and they were going to die anyway.'

"Dad just roared. He thought that was the funniest thing. He thought it was a great joke on himself. He had worked through the day in the wrong weeds. They had been sprayed and would have died anyway.

". . . I [asked] him, 'Dad how could you make a joke out of that?' . . .

"He said something to me that I will never forget. . . . He said, 'Hal, I wasn't there for the weeds.” Elder Henry B. Eyring, "Waiting upon the Lord," Brigham Young University 1990–91 Devotional and Fireside Speeches, 22.

Young Married Experiences

Meeting His Wife. The decision to continue his studies at Harvard proved to be significant for another reason. It meant he was still in Boston during the summer of 1961, when Kathleen Johnson, daughter of J. Cyril and LaPrele Lindsay Johnson, of Palo Alto, California, came to Boston to attend summer school. Hal, who was serving as a counselor in the Boston district presidency at the time, was assigned to preside at a sunrise service for young adults.

After that sunrise service, he saw a young woman coming out of a grove of trees. Not only was he struck by her beauty, but at that moment the words of President David O. McKay came to his mind: “If you meet a girl in whose presence you feel a desire … to do your best, … such a young woman is worthy of your love” (Gospel Ideals, Salt Lake City: Improvement Era, 1953, page 459). “That was exactly how I felt as I saw Kathleen for the first time,” says Elder Eyring.

Hal and Kathleen were introduced at church the following Sunday. “I knew Hal was someone special,” Kathy remembers. “He thought deeply about important things.”

The courtship continued throughout the rest of the summer and then by mail and phone after Kathleen returned to California. They were married in July 1962 in the Logan Temple by Elder Spencer W. Kimball. Gerald N. Lund, “Defining Influences,” Apr. 1996.

Following Promptings. “In our own time, we have been warned with counsel on where to find safety from sin and from sorrow. One of the keys to recognizing those warnings is that they are repeated. For instance, more than once in these general conferences, you have heard our prophet say that he would quote a preceding prophet and would therefore be a second witness and sometimes even a third. Each of us who has listened has heard President [Spencer W.] Kimball give counsel on the importance of a mother in the home and then heard President [Ezra Taft] Benson quote him, and we have heard President [Gordon B.] Hinckley quote them both. The Apostle Paul wrote that “in the mouth of two or three witnesses shall every word be established” (2 Corinthians 13:1). One of the ways we may know that the warning is from the Lord is that the law of witnesses, authorized witnesses, has been invoked. When the words of prophets seem repetitive, that should rivet our attention and fill our hearts with gratitude to live in such a blessed time.

“Every time in my life when I have chosen to delay following inspired counsel or decided that I was an exception, I came to know that I had put myself in harm’s way. Every time that I have listened to the counsel of prophets, felt it confirmed in prayer, and then followed it, I have found that I moved toward safety. Along the path, I have found that the way had been prepared for me and the rough places made smooth. God led me to safety along a path which was prepared with loving care, sometimes prepared long before.

“Sometimes we will receive counsel that we cannot understand or that seems not to apply to us, even after careful prayer and thought. Don’t discard the counsel, but hold it close. If someone you trusted handed you what appeared to be nothing more than sand with the promise that it contained gold, you might wisely hold it in your hand awhile, shaking it gently. Every time I have done that with counsel from a prophet, after a time the gold flakes have begun to appear and I have been grateful.”

(Conference Report, Apr. 1997, 31-35; or Ensign, May 1997, 24-26)

Promptings Often Come Through Spouse. Kathy proved to be more than a good wife and mother. She became another of those defining influences in the life of Henry B. Eyring. The best example of that happened when Hal had been teaching at Stanford for about nine years. It was a richly satisfying time in their lives. He was given considerable freedom to design the classes he taught at Stanford. He returned for one year to Boston as the Sloan Visiting Faculty Fellow at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. He had also entered the business world now, serving as an officer and director for Finnigan Instrument Corporation and becoming a founder and director of System Industries Incorporated, a computer manufacturing company. In the Church, he had taught early-morning seminary, served for a time in the bishopric of his own ward, and then was called as the bishop of the Stanford First Ward, a campus ward.

But that was all to change. “One night,” Elder Eyring reports, “Kathy nudged me and asked, ‘Are you sure you are doing the right thing with your life?’” He stops for a moment and then explains, “I was surprised. Now remember my situation. I have tenure at Stanford. I am the bishop of the Stanford ward. We are living next to her parents. I love what I’m doing. It’s like the Garden of Eden, all right? And then she asks me that question.”

“Couldn’t you do studies for Neal Maxwell?” she went on. Elder Eyring stops again. “You have to understand something. Neal A. Maxwell was the commissioner of Church education at that time. Kathy didn’t even know him. I didn’t know him.”

When asked about that night, Kathy is not sure what it was that brought forth that question. “We were very happy there,” she agrees, “but somehow I just felt like there was something more important that he should be doing. I knew that his teaching at Stanford was wonderful, but I felt there was something he could teach that could truly change lives.” She knew about the Church Educational System (CES) and somehow remembered that Neal A. Maxwell was the commissioner. Thus her comment.

It was enough. Hal determined he would pray about it. At first he got no answer, or so he thought. But not long after that, the phone rang and Commissioner Maxwell, who apparently knew of Hal Eyring, was on the line asking if Hal could come to Salt Lake City. He went.

“I was at my parents’ house,” Elder Eyring recalls, “so Elder Maxwell came over there. The first words out of his mouth were, ‘Hal, I’d like to ask you to be the president of Ricks College.’”

Elder Eyring smiles at that. “You’ve got to remember, I grew up in the East, and I was living in California. I have to admit I didn’t even know where Ricks College was then. If you had asked me whether it was` a two- or four-year college, I couldn’t have told you.”

But a call of such importance was not treated lightly. Even before leaving Salt Lake City, he began to pray about the offer. For a day or two, he could get no answer, which troubled him. “And then,” he says, “as I was praying, an impression came that simply said, ‘It’s my school.’” Realizing that was all the answer he needed, he returned to California, and he and Kathleen began making plans to leave Stanford. (On 10 December 1971, Henry B. Eyring was inaugurated as president of Ricks College.)

Gerald N. Lund, “Defining Influences,” Ensign, Sept. 1995, 10.

Parenting

Patience as a parent. “I have a memory of watching my little boys kick each other as they lay before me on the floor during our family night as I taught a lesson on peace in the family. In fact, that topic would bring it on. They heard me, they understood me, and yet they had been kicking for a long time before I started preaching. Now, years later, they reach across the world to help each other. But the change takes time. So be patient and persistent.”Henry B. Eyring, “Blessed are the Peacemakers,” Church Fireside, February 6, 1994.

Journals to record gratefulness. When our children were very small, I started to write down a few things about what happened every day. Let me tell you how that got started. I came home late from a Church assignment. It was after dark. My father-in-law, who lived near us, surprised me as I walked toward the front door of my house. He was carrying a load of pipes over his shoulder, walking very fast and dressed in his work clothes. I knew that he had been building a system to pump water from a stream below us up to our property.

He smiled, spoke softly, and then rushed past me into the darkness to go on with his work. I took a few steps toward the house, thinking of what he was doing for us, and just as I got to the door, I heard in my mind—not in my own voice—these words: “I’m not giving you these experiences for yourself. Write them down.”

I went inside. I didn’t go to bed. Although I was tired, I took out some paper and began to write. And as I did, I understood the message I had heard in my mind. I was supposed to record for my children to read, someday in the future, how I had seen the hand of God blessing our family. Grandpa didn’t have to do what he was doing for us. He could have had someone else do it or not have done it at all. But he was serving us, his family, in the way covenant disciples of Jesus Christ always do. I knew that was true. And so I wrote it down, so that my children could have the memory someday when they would need it.

I wrote down a few lines every day for years. I never missed a day no matter how tired I was or how early I would have to start the next day. Before I would write, I would ponder this question: “Have I seen the hand of God reaching out to touch us or our children or our family today?” As I kept at it, something began to happen. As I would cast my mind over the day, I would see evidence of what God had done for one of us that I had not recognized in the busy moments of the day. As that happened, and it happened often, I realized that trying to remember had allowed God to show me what He had done.

More than gratitude began to grow in my heart. Testimony grew. I became ever more certain that our Heavenly Father hears and answers prayers. I felt more gratitude for the softening and refining that come because of the Atonement of the Savior Jesus Christ. And I grew more confident that the Holy Ghost can bring all things to our remembrance—even things we did not notice or pay attention to when they happened.

The years have gone by. My boys are grown men. And now and then one of them will surprise me by saying, “Dad, I was reading in my copy of the journal about when . . . ” and then he will tell me about how reading of what happened long ago helped him notice something God had done in his day.

My point is to urge you to find ways to recognize and remember God’s kindness. It will build our testimonies. You may not keep a journal. You may not share whatever record you keep with those you love and serve. But you and they will be blessed as you remember what the Lord has done. You remember that song we sometimes sing: “Count your many blessings; name them one by one, And it will surprise you what the Lord has done.” (October, 2007 General Conference, O Remember, Remember)

Parental Example. This story emphasizes the role that parents have on their children through example. The afternoon my mother died, we went to the family home from the hospital. We sat quietly in the darkened living room for a while. Dad excused himself and went to his bedroom. He was gone for a few minutes. When he walked back into the living room, there was a smile on his face. He said that he’d been concerned for Mother.

During the time he had gathered her things from her hospital room and thanked the staff for being so kind to her, he thought of her going into the spirit world just minutes after her death. He was afraid she would be lonely if there was no one to meet her.
He had gone to his bedroom to ask his Heavenly Father to have someone greet Mildred, his wife and my mother. He said that he had been told in answer to his prayer that his mother had met his sweetheart. I smiled at that too. Grandma Eyring was not very tall. I had a clear picture of her rushing through the crowd, her short legs moving rapidly on her mission to meet my mother.

Dad surely didn’t intend at that moment to teach me about prayer, but he did. I can’t remember a sermon from my mother or my father about prayer. They prayed when times were hard and when they were good. And they reported in matter-of-fact ways how kind God was, how powerful and how close. The prayers I heard most were about what it would take for us to be together forever. And the answers which will remain written on my heart seem most often to be the assurances that we were on the path. (Ensign, Nov. 2000, p. 85)

Power of the Atonement. The effects of the Atonement in our lives can also produce in us the example those we love will need. I learned again the other night the example we need to be.
I was chatting with my wife at the end of a long day. Three of our children were in the room, listening. I turned and noticed that one of them was watching me—and watching my face intently. And then he asked me, softly, “Why are you unhappy?” I tried to give a reason for my furrowed brow, but I realized later that he could well have been asking this deeper question: “Can I see in you the hope for peace in this life that Jesus promised?”
To turn my thoughts from what darkened my look to what would brighten it, I went to another letter from Mormon to his son. Both Mormon and Moroni were facing days of difficulty that make my challenges pale. Mormon knew his son might be overcome with gloom and foreboding, so he told him the perfect antidote. He told him that he could choose, by what he put in his mind, to become an example of hope. Here is what he wrote:
“My son, be faithful in Christ; and may not the things which I have written grieve thee, to weigh thee down unto death; but may Christ lift thee up, and may his sufferings and death, and the showing his body unto our fathers, and his mercy and long-suffering, and the hope of his glory and of eternal life, rest in your mind forever” (Moro. 9:25).
(Ensign, November, 1986 74)

Have I taught them enough? In time, when the child is away from home and family, prayer can provide the shield of protection the parent will want so much for them to have. Parting can be hard, particularly when the parent and the child know that they may not see each other for a long time. I had that experience with my father. We parted on a street corner in New York City. He had come there for his work. I was there on my way to another place. We both knew that I probably would never return to live with my parents under the same roof again.

It was a sunny day, around noontime, the streets crowded with cars and pedestrians. On that particular corner there was a traffic light which stopped the cars and the people in all directions for a few minutes. The light changed to red; the cars stopped. The crowd of pedestrians hurried off the curbs, moving every way, including diagonally, across the intersection.

The time had come for parting, and I started across the street. I stopped almost in the center, with people rushing by me. I turned to look back. Instead of moving off in the crowd, my father was still standing on the corner looking at me. To me he seemed lonely and perhaps a little sad. I wanted to go back to him, but I realized the light would change and so I turned and hurried on.
Years later I talked to him about that moment. He told me that I had misread his face. He said he was not sad; he was concerned. He had seen me look back, as if I were a little boy, uncertain and looking for assurance. He told me in those later years that the thought in his mind had been: Will he be all right? Have I taught him enough? Is he prepared for whatever may lie ahead?
There were more than thoughts in his mind. I knew from having watched him that he had feelings in his heart. He yearned for me to be protected, to be safe. I had heard and felt that yearning in his prayers, and even more in the prayers of my mother, for all the years I had lived with them. I had learned from that, and I remembered.

Prayer. Prayer is a matter of the heart. I had been taught far more than the rules of prayer. I had learned from my parents and from the Savior's teachings that we must address our Heavenly Father in the reverent language of prayer. "Our Father . . . in heaven, Hallowed be Thy name" (Matt. 6:9). I knew that we never profane His sacred name--never. Can you imagine how the prayers of a child are harmed by hearing a parent profane the name of God? There will be terrible consequences for such an offense to the little ones.
I had learned that it was important to give thanks for blessings and to ask for forgiveness. "And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors" (Matt. 6:12). I had been taught that we ask for what we need and pray for others to be blessed. "Give us this day our daily bread" (Matt. 6:11). I knew that we must surrender our will. "Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven" (Matt. 6:10).

I had been taught and found it true that we can be warned of danger and shown early what we have done which displeased God. "And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil" (Matt. 6:13).

I had learned that we must always pray in the name of Jesus Christ. But something I had seen and heard had taught me those words were more than a formality. There was a picture of the Savior on the bedroom wall where my mother was bedridden in the years before she died. She had put it there because of something her cousin Samuel O. Bennion had told her. He had traveled with an Apostle who described seeing the Savior in a vision. Elder Bennion gave her that print, saying that it was the best portrayal he had ever seen of the Master's strength of character. So she framed it and placed it on the wall where she could see it from her bed.

She knew the Savior, and she loved Him. I had learned from her that we do not close in the name of a stranger when we approach our Father in prayer. I knew from what I had seen of her life that her heart was drawn to the Savior from years of determined and consistent effort to serve Him and to please Him. I knew the scripture was true which warns, "For how knoweth a man the master whom he has not served, and who is a stranger unto him, and is far from the thoughts and intents of his heart?" (Mosiah 5:13).
Years after my mother and father are gone, the words "in the name of Jesus Christ" are not casual for me, either when I say them or when I hear others say them. We must serve Him to know the Master's heart. But we also must pray that Heavenly Father will answer our prayers in our hearts as well as in our minds (see Jer. 31:33; Heb. 8:10; 10:16; and 2 Cor. 3:3). (Ensign, November 2002, 53)

Lesson Learned As a Bishop (Repentance). I learned a long time ago that it is hard to know how you are doing in being born again and why it is not easy. Once, as a bishop of a ward, I worked with a young man not much older than many of you. He'd made great mistakes and had been moved by faith in the Lord Jesus Christ to make long and painful repentance. We were down to the weeks before he was to be married in the temple. I had long before forgiven him in the name of the Church and had given him his temple recommend. Yet he remembered that I had said, "The Lord will forgive you in his own time and in his own way." But now he was deeply concerned. He came to my office and he said: "You told me that the Lord would someday let me know that I was forgiven. But I am going to the temple to marry a wonderful girl. I want to be the best I can be for her. I need to know that I am forgiven. And I need to know now. Tell me how to find out." I said I would try.

He gave me a deadline. My memory is that it was within less than two weeks. Fortunately, I already had a trip scheduled. During that period of time I went to Salt Lake City, and there I found myself seeing Elder Spencer W. Kimball, then a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, at a social function. It was crowded, and yet he somehow found me. He walked up to me in that crowd and said, "Hal, I understand that you are now a bishop. Do you have anything you would like to ask me?"

I said that I did, but I didn't think that was the place to talk about it. He thought it was. It was an outdoor party. My memory is that we went behind a shrub and there had our interview. Without breaking confidences, as I have not with you, I outlined the concerns and the question of this young man in my ward. Then I asked Elder Kimball, "How can he get that revelation? How can he know whether his sins are remitted?"

I thought Elder Kimball would talk to me about fasting or prayer or listening for the still small voice. But he surprised me. Instead he said, "Tell me something about the young man."

I said, "What would you like to know?"

And then he began a series of the most simple questions. Some of the ones I remember were:

"Does he come to his priesthood meetings?"

I said, after a moment of thought, "Yes."

"Does he come early?"

"Yes."

"Does he sit down front?"

I thought for a moment and then realized, to my amazement, that he did.

"Does he home teach?"

"Yes."

"Does he go early in the month?"

"Yes, he does."

"Does he go more than once?"

"Yes."

I can't remember the other questions. But they were all like that--little things, simple acts of obedience, of submission. And for each question I was surprised that my answer was always yes. Yes, he wasn't just at all his meetings: he was early; he was smiling; he was there not only with his whole heart, but with the broken heart of a little child, as he was every time the Lord asked anything of him. And after I had said yes to each of his questions, Elder Kim ball looked at me, paused, and then very quietly said, "There is your revelation."

Sufficiently humble. Stripped of pride. Stripped of envy. Never making a mock of his brother.

When I went back to the young man and told him what I then knew, he accepted it. But he may have simply had to take my word for it. You see, it's hard to feel that you are sufficiently humble. If you did, you might not be. He went forward with his marriage. I've seen him since. To me he still looks as he did on the front bench before a priesthood meeting.

My guess is that he has retained a remission of his sins. I don't know if he knew then or if he knows now with the certainty he wanted, but I am sure of something. When that change of heart comes to me and to you, when we are cleansed and blameless before God, it will be because we have been made pure by the blood of Christ. And I know what I can and must do. I must be baptized by a servant of God holding the true priesthood, I must have received the gift of the Holy Ghost by that same power, and then I must have exercised faith in the Savior long enough and carefully enough that his grace will be sufficient for me. And I know at least one way to know that is happening in your life, or in mine. You will have put yourself so often in the Master's service, bringing the cleansing companionship of the Holy Ghost, that you will be on the front row, early, whenever and wherever the Master calls. It will be gradual enough that you may not notice. You will be humble enough that you may be reluctant to believe it is happening. But those with spiritual discernment who love you will know. And the Savior and our Heavenly Father will know. And that is enough. (BYU Devotional, Come Unto Christ, October 29, 1989)

Fasting is Personal. A fun story that I recall hearing Elder Eyring tell was about the time they had a dinner for the newly appointed President of Ricks. President Kimball, who was his wife’s uncle was in attendance. President Kimball was sitting at a nearby table and noticed that Elder Eyring was not eating. He called over and said “Hal, why aren’t you eating?” Elder Erying was horrified and embarrassed. He wanted to downplay the fact that he was fasting in preparation for the big event. President Kimball very loudly told him that he told he should eat something…it was a great lesson for Elder Eyring…to keep fasting a personal and private act. (Reid A. Robison journal entry)

Grandparenting

Bridging the Generations. Your deacon’s quorum president next week may ask you to invite to come with you to a Sunday meeting a boy who has never attended nor has anyone in his family. You may trudge up to his house, get him to come with you a few times, and then see him move away. You may think you haven’t done much that mattered. But the grandfather of such a boy came up to me during a stake conference, described in detail how a deacon had done just that for his grandson—more than ten years before and almost a continent away—and with tears in his eyes asked me if I could thank that deacon for him, now grown older, unaware that the Savior had reached out through a twelve-year-old servant assigned by a thirteen-year-old quorum president.

Some of you brethren know the feelings of that grandfather. The mother of his grandson was raising him alone with no contact with the Church. The grandfather had tried every way he knew to reach out to touch their lives. He loved them. He felt responsible for her and for his grandson. And he knew what you know: He knew that someday, when they saw things as they really are, they would wish with all their hearts that they had made the choices that would qualify them for eternal life, choices which won’t and can’t be made without faith in Jesus Christ sufficient to salvation (Elder Henry B. Eyring, Ensign, November 1995).

Coping with stress. All our married life, Diane has thought of Louis L’Amour as the Harlequin Romance Novel of a man’s world. I love Louis L’Amour books. One time at a fireside at BYU, Elder Eyring spoke of his passion for reading Louis L’Amour books. Often in delayed in an airport, he would read one of those books. Well, immediately, Diane’s respect for my little way of relaxation increased. Elder Eyring spoke of how in each book there is a theme of “Riding for the Brand.” He spoke of how we should remember that BYU and the Church have a brand that we represent. President Hinckley counseled us about the BYU Experience in these words “It must have an everlasting impression on you. It is scarcely perceptible most of the time. But none the less real. It should become an inseparable part of your very nature, something intangible of great worth—substance. Cultivate it in your lives—hold its very essence until you grow old and gray….until you can do what President Hinckley’s father did at the end of his life…habit of sitting on the wall pondering on what he had read the night before. He never ceased to learn. He was a great reader with a wonderful library.” He said he hoped we would take the habit of seeking knowledge and that this habit would never leave us as long as we live. A truly educated man never ceases to learn. He never ceases to grow. (Journal Entry of Reid A. Robison)

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