"Feed My Sheep"
(April 1994)
I have had a lifelong feeling of deep gratitude to the Aaronic Priesthood leaders who blessed my early life in ways I will never be able to repay. These good men helped to fill the void in my life after my father, who had served nearly all his married life as our ward's bishop, was taken by a sudden illness when I was five years old.
Some years later in 1940 as a ward deacons quorum president, I received a letter from the Presiding Bishopric of the Church, signed by LeGrand Richards, Marvin O. Ashton, and Joseph L. Wirthlin. This letter said in part, "The Presiding Bishopric of the Church extends to the Presidency of the Taylorsville Ward deacons quorum congratulations and best wishes on achieving more than 90% attendance in priesthood and sacrament meeting for the year 1939." Can you imagine, brethren, the impact of this letter on the Aaronic Priesthood bearers of our rural ward and especially the three thirteen-year-old deacons who composed the quorum presidency? From that moment on, these men of the Presiding Bishopric became my instant heroes.
In more mature reflection on that event, I realize that this letter was largely the result of a faithful, conscientious ward bishopric whose second counselor, assigned to the deacons quorum, frequently sat in council meeting in our weekly quorum presidency planning meeting. He was always present for at least a portion of our weekly quorum meeting. Our quorum adviser was the kind of humble leader I envision the Savior trying to help Peter become as He admonished the soon-to-be prophet-leader of the Church, "Peter, when thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren" (see Luke 22:32).
I grew up in rural Salt Lake County when it was an economic necessity to care for a variety of barnyard animals. My favorite animals were sheep-prompted perhaps by the fact that sheep do not require being milked twice a day, seven days a week.
I wanted our own sons to have the blessing of being shepherds to such farm animals. Our older sons were each provided with a ewe to teach them responsibility of caring for these sheep and the lambs that would hopefully follow.
Our second son, newly turned six years of age, called me excitedly at my office one cold March morning on the phone and said, "Daddy, guess what? Esther [Esther was his mother ewe]--Esther has just had two baby lambs. Please come home and help me take care of them." I instructed Gordon to watch the lambs carefully and make sure they received the mother's milk and they would be fine. I was interrupted by a second phone call later in the morning with the same little voice on the other end saying, "Daddy, these lambs aren't doing very well. They haven't been able to get milk from the mother, and they are very cold. Please come home."
My response likely reflected some of the distress I felt by being distracted from my busy work schedule. I responded, "Gordon, the lambs will be all right. You just watch them, and when Daddy comes home we will make sure they get mother's milk and everything will be fine." Again, later in the afternoon I received a third, more urgent call. Now the voice on the other end was pleading. "Daddy, you've got to come home now. Those lambs are lying down, and one of them looks very cold." Despite work pressures, I now felt some real concern and tried to reassure the six-year-old owner of the mother sheep by saying, "Gordon, bring the lambs into the house. Rub them with a gunnysack to make them warm. When Daddy comes home in a little while, we will milk the mother, feed the lambs, and they will be fine."
Two hours later I drove into the driveway of our home and was met by a boy with tear-stained eyes, carrying a dead lamb in his arms. His grief was overwhelming. Now I tried to make amends by quickly milking the mother sheep and trying to force the milk from a bottle down the throat of the now weak, surviving lamb. At this point, Gordon walked out of the room and came back with a hopeful look in his eyes. He said, "Daddy, I've prayed that we will be able to save this lamb, and I feel it will be all right." The sad note to this story, brethren, is that within a few minutes the second lamb was dead. Then with a look that I will remember forever, this little six-year-old boy who had lost both of his lambs looked up into his father's face and with tears running down his cheeks said, "Daddy, if you had come home when I first called you, we could have saved them both." Dear brethren of the priesthood, those who are entrusted as keepers of the Lord's precious flock-we must be there with the lambs when we are needed. We must teach with love, principles of faith, and goodness and be righteous examples to the lambs of our Heavenly Father.