Some years ago, long after he had returned from his mission, Bishop J. Richard Yates, of the Durham Third Ward in the Durham North Carolina Stake, was out on the family farm in Idaho, helping his father milk the cows and do some of the evening chores.
Because of the limited family circumstances, Richard's father, Brother Tom Yates, had not been able to go on a mission in his youth.
But that disappointment only strengthened Brother Yates's vow that what he had not been able to afford, his sons would certainly realize--a full-time mission for the Lord--whatever the sacrifice involved.
In those days in rural Idaho it was customary to give a young man a heifer calf as soon as he was old enough to take care of it.
The idea was that the young man would raise the animal, keep some of the offspring, and sell others to help pay for the feed.
Fathers wisely understood that this was a way to teach their sons responsibility as they earned money for their missions.
Young Richard did well with that gift of a first calf and, over time, expanded the herd to eight.
Along the way he invested some of the income from the milk he sold to buy a litter of pigs.
He had nearly sixty of those when his call finally arrived.
It was the family's plan that they would sell future litters of the pigs to supplement income from the sale of the diary milk to cover the costs of Richard's missionary labors.
That evening out in the barn long after a wonderful twenty-four months was safely concluded, this young man heard something of which he had known absolutely nothing while on his mission.
His father said that sometime within the first month after Richard had left, the local veterinarian, a close family friend and tireless worker in that farming community, had come to vaccinate the pigs against a local threat of cholera.
But in an unfortunate professional error, the vet gave the animals the live vaccine but failed to give adequate antiserum.
The results were that the entire herd of pigs came down with the disease; within a few weeks most of the animals were dead, and the remaining few had to be destroyed.
With the pigs dead, obviously milk sales would not be enough to keep Richard on his mission, so his father planned to sell one by one the family's dairy herd to cover the costs.
But beginning with the second month and virtually every month for twenty-three thereafter, as his parents prepared to send him the money for his mission, either one of their cows suddenly died or else one of his did.
Thus the her decrease at twice the rate they expected.
It seemed an unbelievable stretch of misfortune.
During that difficult time a large note became due at the local bank.
With all else that had happened and the inordinate financial problems they were facing, Brother Yates simply did not have the money to repay it.
there was every likelihood they would now lose their entire farm.
After much prayer and concern, but with never a word to their missionary son, Brother Yates went to face the president of the bank, a man not of our faith who was perceived in the community to be somewhat stern and quite aloof.
After he had heard the explanation of this considerable misfortune, the banker sat for a moment, looking into the face of a man who, in his own quiet and humble way, was standing up to trouble and opposition and fear as faithfully as had Rudger Clawson and Joseph Standing [another story earlier in this talk].
In that situation I suppose Brother Yates could not say much more to his banker than "Shoot."
Quietly the bank president leaned forward and asked just one question.
"Tom," he said, "are you paying your tithing?"
Not at all certain as to how the answer would be received, Brother Yates answered softly but without hesitation, "Yes, sir, I am."
The banker then said, "You keep paying your tithing, and you keep your son on his mission. I'll take care of the note. I know you will repay me when you can."
No paperwork or signatures were exchanged.
No threats or warnings were uttered.
Two good and honorable men simply stood and shook hands.
An agreement had been made and that agreement was kept.
Brother Yates says he remembers hearing this heretofore unknown story with considerable emotion that evening, asking his father--the note to the bank long since repaid--if all that worry and fear and sacrifice had bee worth it just to try and live the gospel and keep a son on a mission.
"Yes, Son," he said, "it was worth all of that and a lot more if the Lord ever asks it of me," and he continued with his evening chores.
Physically, Tom Yates was a slight man--under five feet eight inches in height and weighing less than 150 pounds.
His body was stunted somewhat from a near-fatal case of polio contracted in his infancy.
But Richard says he does not ever remember thinking of his father's physical stature, one way or the other.
To this son he was simply a spiritual giant, always larger than life, leaving his children a legacy of devotion and courage longer than all eternity.
Jeffrey R. Holland -Our Priesthood Legacy -April 1995 General Conference.
Until you next see these words;
I'll be watching the leave.
Enjoy the day!
-Sarnic Dirchi
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