Carolling To The Prophet

 

 

Carolling To The Prophet

On a bitter, cold night in December, 1958, the MIA (youth group) was scheduled to go caroling in Salt Lake City. Our Ward was the "old" 11th Ward, and our northern border was South Temple. It was the kind of weather that made your nose pinch, and your cheeks feel frostbitten, but our spirits were high and we were enjoying ourselves as we sang up and down the Ward streets.

The thought came to me that we could just cross the street and go to the Prophet's home, if we dared. President and Sister McKay lived just across the dividing street from our Ward. I was the Young Women's president. What a thrill it would be to sing for the Prophet and his beloved wife--a thrill that would stay with us for a lifetime. He might not be home, but then again, he might be!

So we approached the old McKay home, and climbed the untracked stairs where the snow lay about two inches deep. With some slipping and sliding we walked across the wide front porch and knocked on the door. When President McKay and his wife opened the door and stood there, with their wonderful smiles, we burst into song.

They exclaimed at how beautifully we sang, how thrilled they were to have carolers. Sister McKay hurried back into the house and came out with a jacket, which she tenderly put over his shoulders (reaching up quite a bit!) . He was a tall and handsome man, and looked every inch a prophet. We sang several more songs for them, and then regretfully turned to go.

I wanted so much to ask if we could shake his hand, but the temperature was so low, and the chill factor was too great. We all knew he was beginning to have health problems. As we turned, he said gently, "Wouldn't you all like to shake my hand?"

The line formed so quickly, from the bottom of the stairs some had already descended to the young person closest to the Prophet. Then he shook each hand. His hair was white and gleaming, and was like a halo. I took my place at the end of the line and felt his warm, sincere handshake. A good Mormon grip, not a quick squeeze, or a limp excuse. I heard his sincere "Thank you for coming."

I know he was the Prophet of God, and this is one of my favorite Christmas memories--a heart petal

~Author Unknown