Depths of commitment

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Priesthood Session of the October 1986 Conference.

In these old talks, President Benson often mentions the mission his father went on when President Benson was just a teenager. Clearly it was a formative experience for the children who watched their father go. But this talk gave more detail about the experience than I'd heard before:

When I think of how we show faith, I cannot help but think of the example of my own father. I recall vividly how the spirit of missionary work came into my life. I was about thirteen years of age when my father received a call to go on a mission. It was during an epidemic in our little community of Whitney, Idaho. Parents were encouraged to go to sacrament meeting, but the children were to remain home to avoid contracting the disease. 

Father and Mother went to sacrament meeting in a one-horse buggy. At the close of the meeting, the storekeeper opened the store just long enough for the farmers to get their mail, since the post office was in the store. There were no purchases, but in this way the farmers saved a trip to the post office on Monday. There was no rural postal delivery in those days. 

As Father drove the horse homeward, Mother opened the mail, and, to their surprise, there was a letter from Box B in Salt Lake City—a call to go on a mission. No one asked if one were ready, willing, or able. The bishop was supposed to know, and the bishop was Grandfather George T. Benson, my father’s father. 

As Father and Mother drove into the yard, they were both crying—something we had never seen in our family. We gathered around the buggy—there were seven of us then—and asked them what was the matter. 

They said, “Everything’s fine.” 

“Why are you crying then?” we asked. 

“Come into the living room and we’ll explain.” 

We gathered around the old sofa in the living room, and Father told us about his mission call. Then Mother said, “We’re proud to know that Father is considered worthy to go on a mission. We’re crying a bit because it means two years of separation. You know, your father and I have never been separated more than two nights at a time since our marriage—and that’s when Father was gone into the canyon to get logs, posts, and firewood.” 

And so Father went on his mission. Though at the time I did not fully comprehend the depths of my father’s commitment, I understand better now that his willing acceptance of this call was evidence of his great faith. Every holder of the priesthood, whether young or old, should strive to develop that kind of faith.

He highlights his father's commitment, which is, of course, significant—but when I read this, what I notice is his mother's commitment—staying home with their seven children (I think the eighth was born while his father was gone) and taking care of everything by herself. Lots of pioneer women did the same, and I guess I've kind of gotten used to the idea of it—"Oh, I'm sure that was hard, but they were remarkable women, after all." But I thought it was sweet to glimpse just a little of the struggle of it. It makes the sacrifice seem more real.