I had the good fortune of growing up in a small hamlet nestled in the foothills of the southern Alberta Rocky Mountains. The place was named Beazer in tribute to some of the first who settled there, and our neighbours were spread out along a meandering rivulet called Lee Creek. We had a one-room school and a church to meet in, which sported a nice gymnasium. On a good day, we would expect to see around fifty or sixty at our church meetings.
When I reached the appropriate age, I was assigned to go home teaching. My companion was a grizzled old man who I thought must be a hundred years old. As I recall, I think his last name was Beazer. The odds of that were high.
He would pick me up every month in his rickety truck, and away we would go. He would sit and talk and talk. And then he would talk some more. My young mind had two concerns: one was that he might fall asleep, and I would have to finish the lesson. My other fear was that he might have a medical emergency, which would require me to somehow get him home.
But every month we went, and it made an impression on me.
The best thing about our little hamlet was that if one cried or was sad, we all were, and when someone celebrated, we all made merry together.
I think today we would call that ministering. It came naturally, and we all ministered to each other long before ‘ministering was cool’. Home teaching never got in the way of it.
What is Said During a Visit May Not Be the Most Important Thing
Fast forward to about 1980.
One day, our family received a call from Brother Zaugg, a member of our ward. He let us know he had been assigned as our home teacher. He was a quiet, unpretentious man who never sought the limelight but was always there to help anyone.
He asked if he could visit on a Wednesday night. We graciously accepted, and he came.
After a short lesson, he said, “I do my home teaching on the first Wednesday of every month. Would that work for you?”
Not knowing what else to say, we replied, 'Yes.'
Then he said, “I have some time open for you at seven o’clock. Would that be OK?” Respectfully, we consented.
For years, on the first Wednesday of every month, our doorbell would ring at seven o’clock, and there he and his companion would be. We wrote it on our yearly planning calendar, and when we could not be home, we called Brother Zaugg and asked to be excused.
At Christmas, Santa came. When our children lost a tooth, the tooth fairy came. The first Wednesday of every month at seven o’clock, Brother Zaugg came.
Years later, I do not think any of us could remember much of what was said during our lessons, but if we ever mention his name, we all affectionately smile and say, “Every first Wednesday at seven o’clock.” We will never forget him.
Rewards of Ministering May Not Be Immediate
During the same time frame and in the same ward, I was the elders quorum president. We were implementing a plan to focus on several people or families in an effort to bless their lives. Assigned home teachers were asked to concentrate on only one family or person. There were no prescribed instructions.
My elders quorum secretary and I chose a young couple in our ward. The wife was a member, but her husband was not. However, he attended fairly often and was very approachable.
On our first visit, we asked them if they had ever received the missionary discussions. The answer was no. We asked if they would be averse to a couple of old former missionaries coming, dusting off the cobwebs, and teaching them. They consented.
Visits were convivial and we had a nice time. As we knelt together after the first lesson, we invited him to say the prayer (standing missionary operating procedure at the time). Following some instruction, he did.
Soon after the conclusion of all the lessons, they moved to British Columbia, and we never saw them again. About thirty years later, however, I received a call from the husband, which went something like this:
“Hello, Brother Wright, do you remember me?”
I responded, “Of course I do. How are you?”
Then he began to thank me for those missionary discussions and said he had just been baptized and wanted me to know what a profound impression the past missionary visits had made on his life. It made my day!
Ministering Does Not Have to Be an Assignment—Often, the Best is Not
In another ward in our building was a young man who had cerebral palsy. He struggled along very awkwardly with the aid of two forearm half-crutches. It was a sobering sight to see him lumber down the aisle.
When he came of age to pass the sacrament, he was unable to do so until someone fashioned a tray which could hang from his neck. His fellow deacons would place the bread or water tray on the platform, and he would trudge with difficulty up and down the aisles, but with a broad smile. People would remove the tray and partake of the sacrament. It was wonderful to watch.
Later in life, when he was graduating from high school, some classmates decided to celebrate in nearby Waterton Lakes National Park. Late in the evening, a few boys decided to climb Bears Hump, a large, high promontory overlooking the townsite. With several switchbacks, this was not an easy climb at the best of times- especially at night.
Since it would be impossible for their friend to accomplish this, the other boys decided to take turns carrying him up and down the mountain. He has since gone on to marry and enjoy a successful career in law.
Ministering is about carrying others and never leaving anyone behind.
One Last Thought
One of my most recent ministering companions could not go one night to our scheduled assignments, so I suggested that I go alone. His response was, “No, I just have to go.” We rescheduled.
Here is the link to an article which he wrote about ministering. I hope you read it. It is inspiring. (The Lord and His Children, NEED Mighty Ministers. Ryan Wolfe)
I believe that through baptism we become ministers by covenant. Should we not then “cheerfully do all things that lie in our power” (Doctrine & Covenants 123:17) to minister to all?