Sister Monson Was Endeared by Her Family

President and Sister Monson were married for 64 years. In October 2013 they would have celebrated 65 years of marriage. They have three children – Thomas Lee, Ann Frances, and Clark Spencer. Making mention of her in his biography titled To the Rescue, President Monson stated, “If there was ever a heroine in my life, it would have to be Frances.” [2] The LDS Church news release stated that President Monson recognized his companion as the family’s “beacon of love, compassion and encouragement.” [1] Again in his biography, President Monson further commented, “I am so grateful for my mother-in-law. She brought into the world a lovely daughter who is my wife and companion, who I can assure you is her husband’s keeper, and the keeper of her children as well — a noble daughter of our Heavenly Father.” [2]

Ann Monson Dibb, the only daughter of President and Sister Monson, once made a comment in an Ensign article titled President Thomas S. Monson: Finishing the Course, Keeping the Faith about her mother that could now serve as an appropriate tribute as she recalled the true character of one of Heavenly Father’s special daughters:

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 that 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.”  [3]

In a recent YouTube video posted on Friday, 17 May 2013, by LDS Public Affairs, Ann Dibb Monson remarks that a person could not know her mother without her father, and a person could not know her father without her mother. They made each other complete. Ann further comments that this became even more evident during her father’s visits to her mother’s hospital room during the past 6 and a half weeks.

A Life of Dedication and Devotion

Frances Beverley Johnson was born on 27 October 1927, to Franz Emanuel Johnson and Hildur Augusta Booth Johnson. She was the youngest, and only daughter of 5 children, and was named after her father. She grew up in Salt Lake City, Utah during the days of the Great Depression. The date of her death, 17 May, would have been the birthday of her father, as well as, the birthday of President Monson’s father. She was born of Swedish descent.

She attended Emerson Elementary School, and was a graduate of East High School in Salt Lake City, Utah. She became proficient in both playing tennis and playing the piano in her teenage years. Following high school, she studied math and science at the University of Utah, and worked at the Deseret News in the accounting department at a local department store to help pay the cost of her education. While she was attending the University, she met, and fell in love with a young man, Thomas S. Monson, who would become her eternal companion. Her father, Franz, felt an immediate connection with young Thomas Monson because Monson’s great uncle had baptized him into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Sweden. Thomas Spencer Monson and Frances Beverley Johnson were married for all time and eternity in the Salt Lake City, Utah Temple on 7 October 1948. He was 21 years of age, and she was 20.

As a devout member of The Church of Jesus Christ, Sister Monson had a keen understanding of the meaning of service. She served in the Relief Society and Primary. “She also earned the church’s Golden Gleaner award, part of a now-discontinued program for 18-to-30-year-old single church members, by meeting a rigorous set of requirements for church activity and self-improvement.” [3] She also served with President Monson in the LDS Canadian Mission, headquartered in Toronto, Ontario.

The LDS Church news release further stated that, “Sister Monson lived a Christ-centered life in word and deed. She will forever be remembered for her kindness and quiet, sustained support of her husband in his Church duties.” [1]

A Loving Legacy Left to Her Family

Frances Beverley Johnson Monson will always be remembered as a woman who had a heart full of compassion, was patient and understanding, always had words of encouragement to share, and loved the Savior. She was always by her eternal companion’s side and supported him in all of his many Church callings throughout the years. “My mother is the other part of my father’s success story because she has been supportive of him in everything he’s done,” Sister Dibb (Ann Monson Dibb, daughter of President and Sister Monson) said. [2]

As the matriarch of the Monson home, she nurtured each of her three children in the admonition of the Lord. She clearly understood the words of Solomon, “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it” (Proverbs 22:26.) Perhaps one of the guiding principles from the scriptures that she used in the rearing of her children, and instilled in each of them, is also found in the wise words of Solomon, “In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths” (Proverbs 3:6.) As her children now, and in the days ahead, reflect upon the love that this remarkable woman gave to each of them, and the lessons that she taught them, will be able to say with surety, “We do not doubt our mother knew it” (see Alma 56:48, Book of Mormon.)

Keith L. Brown

Keith L. Brown is a convert to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, having been born and raised Baptist. He was studying to be a Baptist minister at the time of his conversion to the LDS faith. He was baptized on 10 March 1998 in Reykjavik, Iceland while serving on active duty in the United States Navy in Keflavic, Iceland. He currently serves as the First Assistant to the High Priest Group for the Annapolis, Maryland Ward. He is a 30-year honorably retired United States Navy Veteran.

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President Monson often offers analogies to help listeners understand his message. In this address, he used the analogy of a bridge to suggest the bridges the graduates will have to cross in their paths to successful lives. He based this analogy on a poem called The Bridgebuilder, by Will Allen Dromgoole. President Monson is well-read and is known for his ability to have a poem or literary quote for any occasion. This poem tells of an elderly man crossing a deep and wide chasm. When he makes the challenging journey across the chasm, he stops and builds a bridge behind him. Someone asks him why he is bothering since his journey is nearly over and he won’t need to cross that chasm again. He explains that a young person will be crossing this chasm soon and while he managed the chasm successfully, it might turn out to be a pitfall to the young person crossing in dim light. He is building the bridge for that person. Thomas Monson offers three bridges of his own to help the young people to whom he is speaking.

The first bridge he offered was that of attitude.

Said American psychologist and philosopher William James, “The greatest discovery of my generation is that men can alter their lives by altering their attitude of mind.”

Attitude can make all the difference in our lives, and we control our attitude. It can make us miserable or happy, content or dissatisfied. To a great degree, it can make us strong or weak.” He reminded listeners that William James said if you want a virtue, act as if you already have it.

Thomas Monson told two stories that illustrated the importance of attitude. One told of John James Audubon, the great ornithologist, painter, and naturalist. President Monson has raised homing pigeons since childhood and is very fond of birds. He said that Audubon once went on a business trip. When he returned, he found rats had nibbled through a box with more than 200 of his drawings of birds. The drawings were destroyed and he was, for weeks to come, devastated at this destruction of so many years of work. Finally, he realized his attitude was destructive and he needed to take a new approach. He wrote in his journal that he was happy to have a chance to redo the drawings because this time, he could do them even better. Nothing had changed in terms of his life situation and yet when he changed his attitude, he changed his feelings about the event, thus improving his life.

The second bridge President Monson built was that of integrity, a quality that seems to be less important to many today. He said many people try to justify dishonesty.

Being true to oneself is anything but easy if the moral standards of one’s associates conflict with his or her own. The herd instinct is strong in the human animal, and the phrase “Everybody else is doing it” has an insidious attraction. To resist what “everybody else” is doing is to risk being ostracized by one’s peers, and it’s normal to dread rejection. Nothing takes more strength than swimming against the current. You, my friends, are strong and must at times decide to swim against that current.

Perhaps the surest test of an individual’s integrity is his or her refusal to do or say anything to damage his or her self-respect. The cornerstone of one’s value system should be the question, “What will I think of myself if I do this?”

President Monson told his listeners that there is no point in gaining fame and glory if you can’t look yourself in the mirror with pride.

The third bridge Thomas S. Monson offered was that of service. Thomas Monson is widely known for his compassion to those with challenges in life. As a very young bishop (a lay minister) he was assigned to a congregation with many, many widows. One of his responsibilities was to see that their needs were met. Mormon bishops have non-religious careers of their own choosing and they have families, which means their ecclesiastical work must be done after work and on weekends and must be balanced with family life. Despite this challenge, he kept a close eye on the widows, even visiting each one personally at Christmas with a fresh chicken for their holiday dinner. He spoke at all their funerals, even when he become a high level Mormon leader who traveled extensively. He often speaks of his mother, who served the men who rode the rails during the depression, and who, with the rest of the family, took gifts to families in need at Christmas time. Service is a centerpoint of President Monson’s life.

There are opportunities to serve which are open to everyone. The blind and the handicapped need friendship; the aged are hungry for companionship; the young need understanding guidance; the gifted are starved for encouragement. These benefits can’t be conferred by reaching for your checkbook. Personal service is direct and human.

Said a wise man many years ago, “We can’t do everything for everyone everywhere, but we can do something for someone somewhere.”

Our service to others may not be dramatic, but we can bolster human spirits, clothe cold bodies, feed hungry people, comfort grieving hearts, and lift to new heights precious souls.

He told students that while they may become rich or famous, their real success in life will be measured by how much they serve. This level of service is what will bring them true satisfaction, not the money and fame.

This graduation was the 100^th anniversary of the university, which began as the Saint George Stake Academy and was created by the Mormons. In 1933, the Church turned it over to the state, which considered closing it in 1952. However, voters rescued the college. It was once a high school and college combined. In time, the high school became a separate school and the community college eventually began to add four-year degrees. It is working toward university status now.

Read Thomas Monson’s address to Dixie State College.

In the October 1971 General Conference (a semi-annual meeting held and broadcast world-wide) he gave a talk called “With Hand and Heart.” In this talk, he reminded people of their responsibility to help and to love others. He used, as evidence of our responsibility, several examples of how Jesus treated people in His own time.

“ 2 And, behold, there came a leper and worshipped him, saying, Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean.

3 And Jesus put forth his hand, and touched him, saying, I will; be thou clean. And immediately his leprosy was cleansed (Matthew 8, King James translation of the Bible.)

Jesus was powerfully busy during His brief ministry, and very important, with a surprisingly large number of followers, given the short period of time in which he had to preach. Despite this, He did not focus His service on those with money, power, or the greatest ability to help Him in His work. In fact, most of His work appeared to be with those who could do little to improve His acceptance in His community. A leper was someone most people preferred to stay away from and certainly not to touch. President Monson points out that Jesus was not harmed by touching the leper, but the leper was healed by the Savior’s touch. From this we can learn the importance of reaching out and touching the lives of others, even those most people prefer to avoid.

In another example, Jesus took the hand of Peter’s mother to heal her. He took the hand of the daughter of Jairus in His to heal her.

His apostles clearly learned from Jesus’ example. One day, Peter and John were leaving the temple when a disabled man who was brought there each day to beg asked them for money. He didn’t appear to know who they were. John asked the man to look at them, which the man did, clearly hoping for a gift. Peter told the man he had no money, but that he would give the man what he had to give. He then commanded the man to stand up and walk. President Monson points out that we often conclude the story there, neglecting to note that Peter didn’t just give instruction—he reached out and helped the man to stand.

President Monson warns people against refusing to help someone because they believe the person brought his problems on himself or will never change.

“A few see beyond the outward appearance and recognize the true worth of a human soul. When they do, miracles occur. The downtrodden, the discouraged, the helpless become “no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God.” (Eph. 2:19.) True love can alter human lives and change human nature.

This truth was stated so beautifully on the stage in My Fair Lady. Eliza Doolittle, the flower girl, spoke to one for whom she cared and who later was to lift her from such mediocre status: “You see, really and truly, apart from the things anyone can pick up (the dressing and the proper way of speaking, and so on), the difference between a lady and a flower girl is not how she behaves, but how she’s treated. I shall always be a flower girl to Professor Higgins, because he always treats me as a flower girl, and always will; but I know I can be a lady to you, because you always treat me as a lady, and always will.” (Adapted from Pygmalion, in The Complete Plays of Bernard Shaw, p. 260.)

Eliza Doolittle was but expressing the profound truth: When we treat people merely as they are, they will remain as they are. When we treat them as if they were what they should be, they will become what they should be. (Adapted from a quotation by Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe.)

In reality, it was the Redeemer who best taught this principle. Jesus changed men. He changed their habits and opinions and ambitions. He changed their tempers, dispositions, and natures. He changed their hearts. He lifted! He loved! He forgave! He redeemed! Do we have the will to follow?”

It should be noted Jesus and the apostles did not do background checks on those they served. When Jesus helped stop a woman from being stoned for adultery he did not say, “Well, let me look into it and see what kind of person you are and if you’re worthy of my service.” He served her knowing nothing more than the accusation against her and then talked to her about her responsibility. He treated her with dignity and respect, not as a sinner. Surely that act of kindness impacted her life, but whether or not it did, Jesus did the right thing. We aren’t taught to do the right thing only when we’re sure of the results.

It’s important to note that in these Biblical examples, both Jesus and His apostles did more than just talk. They knew sermons alone could not solve the problems faced by these people. Action—service—was needed. Moreover, it was personal service and included physical touch in most cases. This suggests that while donating to charity, for instance, is important in order to allow larger-scale projects to occur, it does not remove the need to do personal service as well. We must meet needs one-on-one, giving something of ourselves, and touching others, both spiritually and literally. One-on-one service is the most meaningful. It has more power to change lives than even the best institutional service and gives us more of an opportunity to meet exact needs in a personalized way.

President Monson’s message, in this talk, is to give with both our hands and our hearts because loving service changes lives. He promised that if we follow the Savior’s example in serving with both hand and heart, we can “lift and love our neighbor to a newness of life.”

In the early 1930s, Margaret Kisilevich and her sister Nellie gave a Christmas gift to their neighbors, the Kozicki family, which was remembered by them all their lives and which has become an inspiration to their families.

Home to Margaret back then was Two Hills, Alberta, Canada—a farming community populated largely by Ukrainian and Polish immigrants who generally had large families and were very poor. It was the time of the Great Depression.

Margaret’s family consisted of her mother and father and their 15 children. Margaret’s mother was industrious and her father was enterprising—and with all those children, they had a built-in labor force. Consequently, their home was always warm, and despite their humble circumstances, they were never hungry. In the summer they grew an enormous garden, made sauerkraut, cottage cheese, sour cream, and dill pickles for barter. They also raised chickens, pigs, and beef cattle. They had very little cash, but these goods could be exchanged for other commodities they could not produce themselves.

Margaret’s mother had friends with whom she had emigrated from the old country. These friends owned a general store, and the store became a depot for folks in the area to donate or trade surplus hand-me-down clothing, shoes, etc. Many of these used items were passed along to Margaret’s family.

Alberta winters were cold, long, and hard, and one particularly cold and difficult winter, Margaret and her sister Nellie noticed the poverty of their neighbors, the Kozicki family, whose farm was a few miles away. When the Kozicki father would take his children to school on his homemade sleigh, he would always go into the school to warm himself by the potbelly stove before returning home. The family’s footwear consisted of rags and gunny sacks cut into strips and wrapped about the legs and feet, stuffed with straw, and bound with twine.

Margaret and Nellie decided to invite the Kozicki family, by way of the children, for Christmas dinner. They also decided not to tell anyone in their family of the invitation.

Christmas morning dawned, and everyone in Margaret’s family was busy with the preparations for the midday feast. The huge pork roast had been put in the oven the night before. The cabbage rolls, doughnuts, prune buns, and special burnt sugar punch had been prepared earlier. The menu would be rounded out with sauerkraut, dill pickles, and vegetables. Margaret and Nellie were in charge of getting the fresh vegetables ready, and their mother kept asking them why they were peeling so many potatoes, carrots, and beets. But they just kept peeling.

Their father was the first to notice a team of horses and a sleigh packed with 13 people coming down their lane. He, being a horse lover, could recognize a team from a long distance. He asked his wife, “Why are the Kozickis coming here?” Her response to him was, “I don’t know.”

They arrived, and Margaret’s father helped Mr. Kozicki stable the horses. Mrs. Kozicki embraced Margaret’s mother and thanked her for inviting them for Christmas. Then they all piled into the house, and the festivities began.

The adults ate first, and then the plates and cutlery were washed, and the children ate in shifts. It was a glorious feast, made better by the sharing of it. After everyone had eaten, they sang Christmas carols together, and then the adults settled down for another chat.

Margaret and Nellie took the children into the bedroom and pulled from under the beds several boxes filled with hand-me-downs they had been given by their mother’s merchant friends. It was heavenly chaos, with an instant fashion show and everyone picking whatever clothes and footwear they wanted. They made such a racket that Margaret’s father came in to see what all the noise was about. When he saw their happiness and the joy of the Kozicki children with their “new” clothes, he smiled and said, “Carry on.”

Early in the afternoon, before it got too cold and dark with the setting sun, Margaret’s family bid farewell to their friends, who left well fed, well clothed, and well shod.

Margaret and Nellie never told anyone about their invitation to the Kozickis, and the secret remained until Margaret Kisilevich Wright’s 77th Christmas, in 1998, when she shared it with her family for the first time. She said it was her very best Christmas ever.

Thomas S. Monson, “The Best Christmas Ever,” Liahona, Dec 2008, 2–6

We can learn a treasured lesson from the pen of Dickens and from the example of Christ. As we lift our eyes heavenward and then remember to look outward into the lives of others, as we remember that it is more blessed to give than to receive, we, during this Christmas season, will come to see a bright, particular star that will guide us to our precious opportunity.

Such was the experience of a Sunday School class some years ago when a wise teacher placed aside the manual one Sunday morning as Christmas approached. With her class members listening in, she telephoned me. I was serving then as the bishop of a large ward situated in the central part of Salt Lake City. The teacher inquired, “Are there any poor in your ward—people who need a sub for Santa?” She then described her own neighborhood as one of affluence and mentioned that she wanted her class to remember this particular Christmas. I responded that our members had the necessities of life but mentioned a family that would welcome a special experience—one that would also greatly benefit her young class members.

The family I had in mind had recently emigrated from war-torn Germany and had rented a humble, older home in our area. The children were new to America, and, while they were learning to speak our language, they were shy and reluctant to mingle with others. Their personal possessions were few; they had lost so much during the war.

In a private telephone conversation with the teacher, I suggested an appropriate evening when her class could accompany her to our ward meetinghouse and together we would journey to the home where the Mueller family lived. Again the teacher stated that she wanted her choice class to remember the true meaning of Christmas. I responded, “Could I suggest, then, that each child bring with him or her a gift that has a special meaning to the individual; a gift the person treasures and would rather keep for himself.”

Just four days before Christmas, the class journeyed to our ward. Several adults brought them in large, expensive automobiles. Such an array of wealth had never before graced the parking area. We then walked to the Mueller home, singing carols along the way. The laughter of the children and the hurried pace of their steps reflected the anticipation of Christmas.

It was at the Mueller home, however, that the frills of Christmas became the spirit of Christmas. I watched as one girl looked into the eyes of one of the Mueller children, a girl about her age, then tenderly handed her a beautiful doll she had received on her own birthday, a gift she herself loved. She anxiously told her newly found friend how to dress the doll and hold it ever so tenderly in cradled arms. I observed a normally rowdy boy take from his left hand his genuine leather baseball glove, which bore the replica signature of Joe DiMaggio, and place the glove on the left hand of a German-speaking boy who had never seen, far less worn, a baseball glove. He then explained how to catch the baseball in the special pocket of the glove, which he had hand prepared hour after hour with a particular oil. Such was the experience of each child with each gift.

As we left the Mueller home and walked back to the meetinghouse, not a word was spoken. One could hear the crunch of the newly fallen snow as young feet, guided by happy hearts, made the two-block journey. We entered the building, there to have donuts and apple cider. In the blessing that was asked upon the food, a beautiful girl, her voice choked with emotion, described the feelings of all as she prayed, “Heavenly Father, we thank Thee for the best Christmas we have ever had.”

Thomas S. Monson, “In Search of the Christmas Spirit,” Ensign, Dec 1987, 3

Let me share with you a lesson learned in childhood. Our family has owned a summer cabin at Vivian Park in Provo Canyon for five generations. The months of July and August for me meant hiking; fishing; and swimming daily at the swimming hole, featuring a big rock from which we dived, and maneuvering through the swift current which roared by it and formed dangerous whirlpools. Most swimmers would plunge into the icy waters and swim with the current, rapidly passing the big rock, and be eventually carried to the slower waters and the welcome bank of river sand. That is, all but one swimmer. His name was “Beef” Peterson. His swimsuit carried the emblem of “Life Saver,” and his physical body reflected great strength. Beef would, like others, swim rapidly down the current through the whirlpools, then suddenly turn and swim back upstream. For a few feet, his mighty strokes carried him forward, but then the swiftness of the current held him steady as he pitted his strength against that of the river. Gradually Beef would tire, drop back, and then swim effortlessly to the bank, exhausted. Swimming against the current became Beef Peterson’s trademark.

My brothers and sisters, I’m certain our duty and responsibility is frequently to swim upstream and against the tide of temptation and sin. As we do so, our spiritual strength will increase, and we shall be equal to our God-given responsibilities.

Thomas S. Monson, “Happiness—The Universal Quest,” Ensign, Oct 1993, 2

[This quote takes from the story of David and Goliath] Finally, let us choose the stone of LOVE OF DUTY. Duty is not merely to do the thing we ought to do, but to do it when we should, whether we like it or not.

Armed with this selection of five polished stones to be propelled by the mighty sling of faith, we need then but take the staff of virtue to steady us, and we are ready to meet the giant Goliath, wherever, and whenever, and however we find him.

Thomas S. Monson, “Meeting Your Goliath,” Ensign, Jan 1987, 2

On fast day, the ward members were visited by deacons and teachers so that each family could make a contribution. The deacons were a bit disgruntled, having to arise earlier than usual to fulfill this assignment.

The inspiration came for the bishopric to take a busload of the deacons and teachers to Welfare Square here in Salt Lake City. Here they saw needy children receiving new shoes and other items of clothing. Here they witnessed empty baskets being filled with groceries. There was no money exchanged. One brief comment was made: “Young men, this is what the money you collect on fast day provides—even food, clothing, and shelter.” The Aaronic Priesthood young men smiled more, stepped higher, and served with a willing mind in the filling of their assignments.

A question: is every ordained teacher given the assignment to home teach? What an opportunity to prepare for a mission. What a privilege to learn the discipline of duty. A boy will automatically turn from concern for self when he is assigned to “watch over” others.

And what of the priests? These young men have the opportunity to bless the sacrament, to continue their home teaching duties, and to participate in the sacred ordinance of baptism.

Thomas S. Monson, “The Priesthood—Mighty Army of the Lord,” Ensign, May 1999, 48

A model of ideal womanhood is Ruth. Sensing the grief-stricken heart of her mother-in-law Naomi-who suffered the loss of each of her two fine sons-feeling perhaps the pangs of despair and loneliness that plagued the very soul of Naomi, Ruth uttered what has become that classic statement of loyalty: “Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.” 14 Ruth’s actions demonstrated the sincerity of her words.

Through Ruth’s undeviating loyalty to Naomi, she was to marry Boaz, by which she-the foreigner and Moabite convert-became a great-grandmother of David and, therefore, an ancestor of our Savior Jesus Christ.

Thomas S. Monson, “Models to Follow,” Ensign, Nov 2002, 60

What the modernists, even the liberationists, fail to remember is that women, in addition to being persons, also belong to a sex, and that with the differences in sex are associated important differences in function and behavior. Equality of rights does not imply identity of functions. As Paul the apostle declared: “… neither is the man without the woman, neither the woman without the man, in the Lord.” (1 Cor. 11:11.)

Recognizing the truth of this statement, may I issue to you three challenges for our times: first, sustain your husband; second, strengthen your home; third, serve your God.

Thomas S. Monson, “The Women’s Movement: Liberation or Deception?,” Ensign, Jan 1971, 17

Sisters, you are the epitome of love. You brighten your homes, you lead with kindness your children; and while your husbands may be head of the home, you surely are the heart of the home. Together, through respect for each other and sharing of responsibilities, you make an unbeatable team.

To me it is significant that when children need care and loving attention, they turn to you-their mothers. Even the wayward son or neglectful daughter, when he or she recognizes the need to return to the embrace of family, almost inevitably comes to Mother, who has never given up on her child.

Mother’s love brings out the best in a child. You become the model for your children to follow.

The first word a child learns and utters is usually the dear expression “Mama.” To me it is significant that on the battlefields of war or in peace, frequently when death is about to overtake a son, his final word is usually “Mother.” Sisters, what a noble role is yours. I testify that your hearts are filled with love.

Thomas S. Monson, “‘Be Thou an Example’,” Ensign, Nov 2001, 98

Compassion During the Civil War

From December 11 to 13, 1862, the Union forces attacked Marye’s Heights, a large hill overlooking the town of Fredericksburg, Virginia, where six thousand Rebels awaited them. The Southern troops were in secure defensive positions behind a stone wall which meandered along the foot of the hill. In addition, they stood four deep on a sunken road behind the wall, out of sight of Union forces.

The Union troops-over forty thousand strong-launched a series of suicidal attacks across open ground. They were mowed down by a scythe of shot; none got closer than forty yards from the stone wall.

Soon the ground in front of the Confederate positions was littered with hundreds, then thousands, of fallen Union soldiers in their blue uniforms-over twelve thousand before sunset. Crying for help, the wounded lay in the bitter cold throughout that terrible night.

The next day, a Sunday, dawned cold and foggy. As the morning fog lifted, the agonized cries of the wounded could still be heard. Finally, a young Confederate soldier, a nineteen-year-old sergeant, had had all he could take. The young man’s name was Richard Rowland Kirkland. To his commanding officer, Kirkland exclaimed, “All night and all day I have heard those poor people crying for water, and I can stand it no longer. I … ask permission to go and give them water.” His request was initially denied on the grounds that it was too dangerous. Finally, however, permission was granted, and soon thousands of amazed men on both sides saw the young soldier, with several canteens draped around his neck, climb over the wall and walk to the nearest wounded Union soldier. He raised the stricken man’s head, gently gave him a drink, and covered him with his own overcoat. Then he moved to the next of the wounded-and the next and the next. As Kirkland’s purpose became clear, fresh cries of “Water, water, for God’s sake water” arose all over the field.

The Union soldiers were at first too surprised to shoot. Soon they began to cheer the young Southerner as they saw what he was doing. For more than an hour and a half, Sergeant Kirkland continued his work of mercy.

Tragically, Richard Kirkland was himself killed a few months later at the battle of Chicamauga. His last words to his companions were, “Save yourselves, and tell my pa I died right.” (Thomas S. Monson, “Mercy-The Divine Gift,” Ensign, May 1995, 54)

Making a Miracle

Long years ago a severe drought struck the Salt Lake Valley. The commodities at the storehouse on Welfare Square had not been their usual quality, nor were they found in abundance. Many products were missing, especially fresh fruit. As a young bishop, worrying about the needs of the many widows in my ward, I said a prayer one evening that is especially sacred to me. I pleaded that these widows, who were among the finest women I knew in mortality and whose needs were simple and conservative, had no resources on which they might rely.

The next morning I received a call from a ward member, a proprietor of a produce business situated in our ward. “Bishop,” he said, “I would like to send a semitrailer filled with oranges, grapefruit, and bananas to the bishops’ storehouse to be given to those in need. Could you make arrangements?” Could I make arrangements! The storehouse was alerted, and then each bishop was telephoned and the entire shipment distributed. (Thomas S. Monson, “The Fatherless and the Widows: Beloved of God,” Ensign, Aug 2003, 2-7)

Love For Strangers

A few years ago I read a Reuters news service account of an Alaska Airlines nonstop flight from Anchorage to Seattle, carrying 150 passengers, which was diverted to a remote town on a mercy mission to rescue a badly injured boy. Two-year-old Elton Williams III had severed an artery in his arm when he fell on a piece of glass while playing near his home in Yakutat, 450 miles (725 kilometers) south of Anchorage. Medics at the scene asked the airline to evacuate the boy. As a result, the Anchorage-to-Seattle flight was diverted to Yakutat.

The medics said the boy was bleeding badly and probably would not live through the flight to Seattle, so the plane flew 200 miles (320 kilometers) to Juneau, the nearest city with a hospital. The flight then went on to Seattle, with the passengers arriving two hours late, most missing their connections. But none complained. In fact, they dug into their pocketbooks and took up a collection for the boy and his family.

Later, as the flight was about to land in Seattle, the passengers broke into a cheer when the pilot said he had received word by radio that Elton was going to be all right. Surely love of neighbor was in evidence. (Thomas S. Monson, “The Way of the Master,” Ensign, Jan 2003, 2-7)

The example of a prophet

One who exemplified charity in his life was President George Albert Smith (1870-1951). Immediately following World War II, the Church had a drive to amass warm clothing to ship to suffering Saints in Europe. Elder Harold B. Lee (1899-1973) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and Elder Marion G. Romney (1897-1988), an Assistant to the Twelve, took President George Albert Smith to Welfare Square in Salt Lake City to view the results. They were impressed by the generous response of the membership of the Church. They watched President Smith observing the workers as they packaged this great volume of donated clothing and shoes. They saw tears running down his face. After a few moments, President Smith removed his own new overcoat and said, “Please ship this also.”

The Brethren said to him, “No, President, no; don’t send that; it’s cold and you need your coat.”

But President Smith would not take it back; and so his coat, with all the others, was sent to Europe, where the nights were long and dark and food and clothing were scarce. Then the shipments arrived. Joy and thanksgiving were expressed aloud, as well as in secret prayer. (Thomas S. Monson, “The Master’s Blueprint,” Ensign, Jan 2006, 2-7)

He asked Bishop Monson to come with him to look at the apartment that had been rented for his brother. Bishop Monson was dismayed by the sight that greeted him. The paint was peeling off the walls and the wallpaper in other rooms was filthy. The cupboards were empty. There was a giant hole in the floor covering and the room was only lit with a single forty watt light bulb. The man assured Bishop Monson this was far better than what they had in Germany, but President Monson wasn’t reassured. The family would arrive two days before Christmas, and he thought they deserved a better home than that.

He found it hard to sleep that night and arrived at a church meeting tired and worried. When someone in the meeting asked what was wrong, he told them about the family and the apartment. The people in the meeting did what Mormons do best-they went to work on a plan. Mormons love emergencies.

One member arranged to have men from church rewire the apartment and another found new appliances to replace the broken ones in the apartment. Another obtained donations of carpeting and lined up men to lay it. A third man offered to donate paint and to line up men who could paint the apartment. The women offered to fill the cupboards. Nearly everyone in that congregation went to work on making a small, dirty apartment beautiful and welcoming. When the family arrived, they were taken to the apartment, where the ward members were waiting.

If the dirty, dark apartment was more than they’d had in Germany, imagine how they felt walking into a bright, beautiful apartment filled with good things to eat and beautiful surroundings. They were overwhelmed at the realization this all belonged to them.

As the church members left, a teenager asked Bishop Monson why she felt better than she ever had before at that moment. He responded with a scripture from the Bible:

Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” (Matt. 25:40.)

President Monson decided he wanted to visit the man, but President Uchtdorf, knowing President Monson had just had foot surgery and was in pain when he walked, suggested the trip would be a bad idea. Brother Panitsch lived on the fifth floor and there wasn’t an elevator. President Monson was not concerned and insisted on visiting the man rather than sight-seeing. He had to stop every few stairs to rest, but he made the entire five-flight climb without complaint and had a very nice visit with the man.

President Monson often receives requests for personal visits from those who are suffering or dying. His secretaries often try to shield him from these requests, knowing he would spend every moment on them if possible. One day, however, a message was relayed to him of a woman who was dying and who longed for a visit from him, because he was her favorite church leader. There was no way to fit the visit into a schedule that had every moment filled, but somehow, President Monson could not get the request out of his mind. He found himself uneasy, even though he’d never met the woman. The next day, he got into his car, purchased a gift, and drove into unfamiliar territory on the long journey to the woman’s home. When he arrived, the woman was semi-comatose. She lay in a room that included a framed picture of President Monson. He took her hand and talked with her, a monologue, since she couldn’t respond in any way. However, her son was certain she knew who he was and understood what he said to her. She died just nine hours later.

President Monson’s life of service was prepared in childhood. His parents were warm and giving people. They lived near railroad tracks and homeless or transient people often came to their door looking for food. His mother always brought them into her kitchen and prepared a sandwich and glass of milk for them, feeding them right there at her own table. Each Sunday, young Tom Monson was expected to deliver a plate of food to his elderly neighbor before starting his own Sunday dinner. He was never allowed to wait until he’d eaten first, and from these experiences, he learned to put others before himself.

President Monson is well-known for his service to individuals. Although he leads a world-wide church of millions, he never loses sight of the fact that each person in the church is an individual, and he is constantly watching for opportunities to serve that one person.

He wrote of his ward, “The street addresses in that ward did not read like some: Colonial Hills Circle, Mountain View Estates, or Skyline Drive. Rather, they were noted as Orchard Place, Gale Street, Elford Court. The ward was not east of the tracks in Salt Lake City. It was not west of the tracks. That ward spanned the railroad tracks. Many of the widows and those in financial need were hidden away in basement apartments, upstairs back rooms, or dilapidated houses situated at the rear of little-known streets. I became the shepherd. This was my flock. I was reminded of God’s warning through Ezekiel: “Woe be to the shepherds of Israel that feed not my flock” (see Ezek. 34:2-3).”

The young bishop worked very hard to care for the many widows who were under his stewardship. He visited every single one of them at Christmas time, using a full week of his personal vacation to do so.

There is more to this story, however. He continued those Christmas visits every year, even after he was no longer their bishop, and even after he was made a General Authority, one of the highest church positions with international responsibility. He always brought them a gift. In the early days, this was often a dressed hen from his own flock. He met other widows at the nursing homes where some of these women eventually moved to, and added visits to those women as well. And, despite extensive travel for church responsibilities, he spoke at the funerals of every one of those original widows. To this day, he makes regular visits to widows he has met in the course of his great service to the people of the church.

Of one such visit he wrote: “There is a much larger home here where many widows reside. Most are seated in the well-lighted living room. But in her bedroom, alone, is one on whom I must call. She hasn’t spoken a word since a devastating stroke some years ago. But then, who knows what she hears, so I speak of good times together. There isn’t a flicker of recognition, not a word spoken. In fact, an attendant asks if I am aware that this patient hasn’t uttered a word for years. It makes no difference. Not only have I enjoyed my one-sided conversation with her-I have communed with God.” (Thomas S. Monson, “The Long Line of the Lonely,” Ensign, Feb 1992, 2)

President Thomas S. Monson is a powerful example of compassionate, Christ-like giving for the members of the church.