Thomas s monson

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<ul><li>1. Over the course of his many callings in the Church, PresidentThomas S. Monson has moved from office to office, location tolocation. With every move he has carefully taken with him aparticular painting. He has had it since he was a bishop in the1950s. He took it with him when he presided over the CanadianMission, headquartered in Toronto. It now hangs in the office heoccupies as President of the Church. The painting is a striking imageof the Lord Jesus Christ by famed artist Heinrich Hofmann. The painting is more than a decoration for the office wall. It is morethan a reminder of who is the chief corner stone (Ephesians 2:20)of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It is more than adeclaration that the man called to be President of the Church isexpected to be chief among the living witnesses of the Savior. Thepainting represents an idealthe Master after whom ThomasMonson has modeled his life. I love that painting, PresidentMonson said as he gazed at it yet again. I feel strength in having itnear me. Look at the kindness in those eyes. Look at the warmth ofexpression. When facing difficult situations, I often look at it andask myself, What would He do? Then I have tried to respondaccordingly.</li></ul><p>2. "Christmastime had come. We were preparing for the oven agigantic turkey and anticipating the savory feast that awaited. Aneighborhood pal of mine asked a startling question: What doesturkey taste like? "I responded, Oh, about like chicken tastes. "Again a question: What does chicken taste like? "It was then that I realized my friend had never eaten chicken orturkey. I asked what his family was going to have for Christmasdinner. There was no prompt response, just a downcast glance andthe comment, I dunno. Theres nothing in the house. "I pondered a solution. There was none. I had no turkeys, nochickens, no money. Then I remembered I did have two pet rabbits.Immediately I took them to my friend and handed the box to himwith the comment, Here, take these two rabbits. Theyre good toeat-just like chicken. "He took the box, climbed the fence, and headed for home, aChristmas dinner safely assured. Tears came easily to me as I closedthe door to the empty rabbit hutch. But I was not sad. A warmth, afeeling of indescribable joy, filled my heart" 3. "Prospective teachers, hearing of the unsavory reputation of our particular [Sunday School] class, would graciouslydecline to serve or suggest the possibility of teaching a different class where the students were more manageable.We took delight in our newly found status and determined to live up to the fears of the faculty. "One Sunday morning a lovely young lady accompanied the superintendent into the classroom and was presentedto us as a teacher who requested the opportunity to teach us. We learned that she had been a missionary andloved young people. Her name was Lucy Gertsch. She was beautiful, soft-spoken, and interested in us. She askedeach class member to introduce himself, and then she asked questions which gave her an understanding andinsight into the background of each. ... "When Lucy taught, she made the scriptures actually live. We became personally acquainted with Samuel, David,Jacob, Nephi, Joseph Smith, and the Lord Jesus Christ. Our gospel scholarship grew. Our deportment improved.Our love for Lucy Gertsch knew no bounds. "We undertook a project to save nickels and dimes for what was to be a gigantic Christmas party. Sister Gertschkept a careful record of our progress. As boys with typical appetites, we converted in our minds the monetarytotals to cakes, cookies, pies, and ice cream. This was to be a glorious event. Never before had any of our teacherseven suggested a social event like this was to be. "The summer months faded into autumn. Autumn turned to winter. Our party goal had been achieved. The classhad grown. A good spirit prevailed. "None of us will forget that gray morning when our beloved teacher announced to us that the mother of one ofour classmates had passed away. We thought of our own mothers and how much they meant to us. We feltsincere sorrow for Billy Devenport in his great loss. "The lesson this Sunday was from the book of Acts, chapter 20, verse 35: Remember the words of the Lord Jesus,how he said, It is more blessed to give than to receive. At the conclusion of a well-prepared lesson, Lucy Gertschcommented on the economic situation of Billys family. These were Depression times, and money was scarce. Witha twinkle in her eyes, she asked: How would you like to follow this teaching of our Lord? How would you feelabout taking our party fund and, as a class, giving it to the Devenports as an expression of our love? The decisionwas unanimous. We counted so carefully each penny and placed the total sum in a large envelope. A beautifulcard was purchased and inscribed with our names. "This simple act of kindness welded us together as one. We learned through our own experience that it is indeedmore blessed to give than to receive. "The years have flown. The old chapel is gone, a victim of industrialization. The boys and girls who learned, wholaughed, who grew under the direction of that inspired teacher of truth have never forgotten her love or herlessons. Her personal influence for good was contagious" 4. As a young bishop, he received a call one evening informing him that anolder member of his ward had been taken to the veterans hospital in SaltLake City for treatment. Could he come to give the man a blessing? he wasasked. Bishop Monson explained that he was just on his way to a stakemeeting, but he would stop by the hospital as soon as the meeting wasover. At that leadership meeting, he felt unsettled, ill at ease. A promptingcame strongly: leave the meeting at once, and go directly to the hospital.But surely it would be discourteous to walk out while the stake presidentwas speaking, wouldnt it? He waited until the end of the stake presidentsaddress and then made his way to the door even before the closing prayer.At the hospital he found himself running down the corridor. There seemedto be a flurry of activity outside the mans room, and a nurse stopped thenew arrival. Are you Bishop Monson? she asked. Yes, was his anxiousreply. Im sorry, the nurse replied. The patient was calling your namejust before he passed away. As the young bishop walked out of the hospital that night, he vowed hewould never again fail to act on an impression from the Lord. No mancould have been more true to that vow. Indeed, his life has been onemiracle after another in response to his faithful adherence to promptingsof the Spirit 5. "Stan, a dear friend of mine, was taken seriously ill and rendered partially paralyzed. He had beenrobust in health, athletic in build, and active in many pursuits. Now he was unable to walk or tostand. His wheelchair was his home. The finest of physicians had cared for him, and the prayers offamily and friends had been offered in a spirit of hope and trust. Yet Stan continued to lie in theconfinement of his bed at the university hospital. He despaired. "Late one afternoon I was swimming at the Deseret Gym, gazing at the ceiling while backstrokingwidth after width. Silently, but ever so clearly, there came to my mind the thought: Here you swimalmost effortlessly, while your friend Stan languishes in his hospital bed, unable to move. I felt theprompting: Get to the hospital and give him a blessing. "I ceased my swimming, dressed, and hurried to Stans room at the hospital. His bed was empty. Anurse said he was in his wheelchair at the swimming pool, preparing for therapy. I hurried to thearea, and there was Stan, all alone, at the edge of the deeper portion of the pool. We greeted oneanother and returned to his room, where a priesthood blessing was provided. "Slowly but surely, strength and movement returned to Stans legs. First he could stand on falteringfeet. Then he learned once again to walk-step by step. Today one would not know that Stan had lainso close to death and with no hope of recovery. "Frequently Stan speaks in Church meetings and tells of the goodness of the Lord to him. To somehe reveals the dark thoughts of depression which engulfed him that afternoon as he sat in hiswheelchair at the edge of the pool, sentenced, it seemed, to a life of despair. He tells how hepondered the alternative. It would be so easy to propel the hated wheelchair into the silent waterof the deep pool. Life would then be over. But at that precise moment he saw me, his friend. Thatday Stan learned literally that we do not walk alone. I, too, learned a lesson that day: Never, never,never postpone following a prompting" (in Conference Report, Apr. 1985, 87; or Ensign, May 1985,69-70). 6. "Now for the illustration pertaining to those men whose habits and lives include but little Churchattendance or Church activity of any kind. ... "... These men await a helping hand, an encouraging word, and a personal testimony of truthexpressed from a heart filled with love and a desire to lift and to build. "Shelley, my friend, was such a person. His wife and children were fine members, but all efforts tomotivate him toward baptism and then priesthood blessings had failed miserably. "But then Shelleys mother died. Shelley was so sorrowful that he retired to a special room at themortuary where the funeral was being held. We had wired the proceedings to this room so that hemight mourn alone and where no one could see him weep with sorrow. As I comforted him in thatroom before going to the pulpit, he gave me a hug, and I knew a tender chord had been touched. "Time passed. Shelley and his family moved to another part of the city. I was called to preside overthe Canadian Mission and, together with my family, moved to Toronto, Canada, for a three-yearperiod. "When I returned and after I was called to the Twelve, Shelley telephoned me. He said, Bishop, willyou seal my wife, my family, and me in the Salt Lake Temple? "I answered hesitantly, But Shelley, you must first be baptized a member of the Church. "He laughed and responded, Oh, I took care of that while you were in Canada. I sort of snuck up onyou. There was this home teacher who called on us regularly and taught me the truths of theChurch. He was a school crossing guard and helped the small children across the street eachmorning when they went to school and each afternoon when they went home. He asked me tohelp him. During the intervals when there was no child crossing, he gave me additional instructionpertaining to the Church" 7. President Monson grew up on the west side of Salt Lake City in an area notknown for affluent or influential families, but he was surrounded there bycharitable, hard-working men and women, particularly in his own home.His family lived not far from the railroad tracks, and their home wasfamiliar to many of the transients who traveled the rails during the GreatDepression of the 1930s. When these travelerssome only young men intheir teensknocked at the Monson back door, the family knew thatGladys Monson would invite them to sit at the kitchen table while sheprepared a sandwich and poured a glass of milk to go with it. At othertimes it was young Tommys task to carry plates of hot food prepared byhis mother to a lonely neighbor, Old Bob, who lived in a house providedfor him by Toms grandfather. The Monson neighborhood was filled withsuch recipients of Christian charity. Often on Sunday afternoons young Tom accompanied his father as hepicked up Uncle Elias to take him for a ride around the city. PresidentMonson remembers that his father would tenderly carry his frail uncle,crippled by arthritis, to the car and place the older man in the front seat,where he would be able to enjoy the best view. The drive was brief andthe conversation limited, but oh, what a legacy of love! PresidentMonson recalls. Father never read to me from the Bible about the goodSamaritan. Rather, he took me with him and Uncle Elias in that old 1928Oldsmobile and provided a living lesson I have always remembered. 8. when young Tom Monson was president of the teachers quorum in his ward, hewas thrilled when the quorum adviser inquired about his interest in raising birds.The adviser then asked, How would you like me to give you a pair of purebredBirmingham Roller pigeons? The female of the pair was special, the adviserexplained; she had only one eye, the other eye having been damaged by a cat. Onhis advisers instructions, he kept them in his own pigeon loft for about 10 days,then let them fly free to see if they would return. The male came back, but thefemale flew awayback to the advisers home. When Tom went to retrieve her,the adviser talked with him about a boy in the quorum who was not active. Tomreplied, Ill have him at quorum meeting this week. He took the pigeon home,but the next time he released the pair, she flew once again to the advisers home.When Tom retrieved the pigeon this time, the adviser talked about another boywho had not been coming to quorum meetings. Each time the pigeon wasreleased, she returned to the advisers home, and each time Tom went to retrieveher, there would be a conversation about another boy. I was a grown man, President Monson recalls, before I fully realized that,indeed, Harold, my adviser, had given me a special pigeon, the only bird in his lofthe knew would return every time she was released. It was his inspired way ofhaving an ideal personal priesthood interview with the teachers quorum presidentevery two weeks. Because of those interviews and that old one-eyed pigeon, everyboy in that teachers quorum became active. 9. Each of us has his own way of remembering. At Christmastime I takedelight in visiting the widows and widowers from the ward where I servedas bishop. There were eighty-seven then, just eight today. On such visits, Inever know what to expect, but this I do know: visits like these provide forme the Christmas spirit, which is, in reality, the Spirit of Christ. Come with me, and well together make a call or two. At a nursing home on First South, we might interrupt, as I did a few yearsago, a professional football game. There, before the TV, were seated twowidows. They were warmly and beautifully dressedand absorbed in thegame. I asked, Whos winning? They responded, We dont even knowwhos playing, but at least its company. I sat between those two angelsand explained the game of football. I enjoyed the best contest I canremember. I may have missed a meeting, but I harvested a memory. Lets hurry along to Redwood Road. There is a much larger home herewhere many widows reside. Most are seated in the well-lighted livingroom. But in her bedroom, alone, is one on whom I must call. She hasntspoken a word since a devastating stroke some years ago. But then, whoknows what she hears, so I speak of good times together. There isnt aflicker of recognition, not a word spoken. In fact, an attendant asks if I amaware that this patient hasnt uttered a word for years. It makes nodifference. Not only hav...</p>