Thanksgiving Prayer - Vaughn J. Featherstone
When
I was a deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood, the member of the bishopric
who advised the deacons quorum came into our quorum meeting the Sunday
before Thanksgiving and said, “I hope we won’t have one
family
of this quorum who won’t kneel down in family prayer and have a
blessing on the food this Thanksgiving.” It was 1943, and our country
was engaged in World War II. We discussed our need for a divine blessing
for those who were in military service and for all the other
difficulties we as a nation were facing. We also talked about the
blessings we each enjoyed. Then we were again encouraged to have family
prayer.
A
heavy cloud settled on my heart. I didn’t know how my family could have
family prayer. My father had a drinking problem, and my mother was not a
member of the Church at that time. We had never had a prayer in our
home, not even a blessing on the food. After quorum meeting I continued
to consider the challenge, and finally concluded we would not be able to
have prayer.
That evening at
sacrament
meeting the bishop stood up at the close of the meeting and said,
“Brothers and sisters, Thursday is Thanksgiving. I hope we will not have
one family in the ward that will not kneel in family prayer. We ought
to express our
gratitude for the great goodness of our Heavenly Father to us.” And then he enumerated some of our many blessings.
Again
it seemed as if my soul were filled with an enormous gloom. I tried to
figure out a way our family could have prayer. I thought about it
Monday, and again on Tuesday, and on Wednesday. On Wednesday evening my
father did not return home from work at the normal hour, and I knew from
experience that, because it was payday, he was satisfying his thirst
for alcohol. When he finally came at two in the morning quite an
argument ensued. I lay in bed wondering how we could ever have prayer
with that kind of contention in our home.
On
Thanksgiving morning, we did not eat breakfast so we could eat more
dinner. My four brothers and I went out to play with some neighbor boys.
We decided to dig a hole and make a trench to it and cover it over as a
clubhouse. We dug a deep hole, and with every shovelful of dirt I threw
out of the hole I thought about family prayer for Thanksgiving. I
wondered if I would have enough courage to suggest to my parents that we
have a prayer, but I was afraid I would not. I wondered if my older
brother, who has always been an ideal in my life, would suggest it,
since he had been in the same sacrament meeting and had heard the
bishop’s suggestion.
Finally,
at about two-thirty in the afternoon, Mother told us to come get
cleaned up for dinner. Then we sat down at the big round oak table. Dad
sat down with us silently—he and Mother were not speaking to each other.
As she brought in the platter with the beautiful golden brown turkey,
my young heart was about to burst. I thought, Now please, won’t someone suggest we have a family prayer?
I thought the words over and over, but they wouldn’t come out. I turned
and looked at my older brother, praying desperately that he would
suggest prayer. The bowls of delicious food were being passed around the
table; plates were being filled; and time and opportunity were passing.
I knew that if someone did not act immediately, it would be too late.
Then suddenly, as always, everyone just started eating.
My
heart sank, and despair filled my soul. Although I had worked up a
great appetite, and Mother was a marvelous cook, I wasn’t hungry. I just
wanted to pray.
I
resolved that day that no son or daughter of mine would ever want to
pray and not be able to do it because of shyness or lack of courage. In
our family we have family prayers, personal prayers, and blessings on
every meal. As one who has known the contrast between families that do
not pray and those that do, I know the value of prayer in the home and
in the life of every child and youth in the Church. What a blessing it
is for us to know that our private, individual prayers are heard and
answered by a kind, wise, loving Heavenly Father, and that we can take
our problems—no matter how simplistic they may be—to him in prayer!
My
wife and I have seven children, six sons and a daughter. Each one of
our children has been taught to pray as soon as he or she was old enough
to kneel. Some of the sweetest prayers ever offered in our home have
been those of our children.
Heavenly
Father is accessible to us all, both young and old. In my own life
there have been moments when I have felt an overwhelming, absolute need
for intervention by a kind Father in Heaven.
Before
our fifth son, Lawrence, was born, my wife had complications in labor,
and the doctor stayed by her side all day. She also had had a dream that
frightened her. She dreamed that two men in black clothes had come to
get her, and she feared this may have been a warning she might not make
it through the delivery. Late that night the doctor asked me to leave
the room so he could examine her again. Greatly concerned about her, I
went out into the hall, stood by a window looking over the twinkling
lights of the Salt Lake Valley, and, with tears in my eyes, pleaded with
the Lord to spare her life.
While
I was praying, someone came rushing down the hallway. I saw a nurse run
into my wife’s room, then come out, get a cart with a tank of oxygen,
and wheel the cart into the room. Now I knew my wife was in great
danger. Although I thought I had been praying with all my heart, I
suddenly found I could pray with even greater humility and pleading. I
promised the Lord I would do anything I was ever asked to do in the
Church if he would spare Merlene’s life. The prayer was offered with
every particle of my being.
In
a few moments the door opened, and they were wheeling her to the
delivery room. Lawrence, weighing ten pounds and twelve ounces, was born
shortly after, and his mother soon recovered her health. Our prayers
had been answered.
When
Lawrence was 13 we were expecting our seventh child, and again I was
concerned for my wife’s well-being. I tried not to alarm my family.
However, I had told Lawrence about some of the difficulties connected
with his birth, and this affected him greatly.
When
I took Merlene to the hospital I told the family I would call them and
let them know how their mother was and whether they had a little brother
or sister. After Paul was born, I called home and Lawrence answered. I
told him the good news and said I would be home in a little while. When I
went home I told them all about their new baby brother and that their
mother was doing well. That evening as I left the house to go to the
hospital, Lawrence handed me a letter to give to his mother. When I
arrived, I gave her a kiss, then handed her the letter. Her eyes
moistened as she read it; then she handed it to me. It said:
“To
my favorite and most loved Mother. Congratulations. When Dad phoned us
and told us we had a little brother I just about freaked. After you left
to go to the hospital I went in Dad’s den and knelt down to have prayer
to ask Heavenly Father to bless you that you would be all right. Well
my prayer was answered. After Dad came home he told how just before the
baby was born you gritted your teeth and tears flowed down your cheeks
but you wouldn’t cry out. I kind of got this unstuckable lump in my
throat.
“I’m working on my hiking merit badge.
“Love, Lawrence”
When
our second son, Dave, was 12 years old, he was home alone one afternoon
when the telephone rang. It was one of the Laurels in our ward who was
calling. Her car had a flat tire and she had been unable to find anyone
to help her fix it, so she called to see if my wife, who was president
of the Young Women of the ward, could help her. Dave said, “I’m home
alone, but I can ride my bike and help you change the tire.” When he
hung up the phone, he remembered he hadn’t asked her where she was. He
went into his bedroom, knelt down, and asked the Lord to take him to
this girl. Then he went out, climbed on his bicycle, and rode directly
to where she was.
Some
time ago a couple came to my office with very heavy hearts. They had a
priest-age son who was an Eagle Scout, a Duty to God Award winner, a
good student who had been conscientious in school and on his part-time
job. Then one night he just walked away from home and didn’t return. He
had been gone for several weeks, and they were heartsick.
I
asked them if they had pleaded with the Lord to know where their son
was. They assured me they had. “Have you pleaded with all your
strength?” “Yes, we have.” “Have you pleaded with every particle of your
being?” “Well,” they said, “maybe not every particle.” I said, “You go
home and pray again—this time with every particle of energy and strength
of your being.” They said they would.
That
afternoon the couple knelt down and pleaded with the Lord. At six
o’clock the phone rang. It was their son, calling from Banff, Alberta,
Canada. After talking to him for a few minutes and finding that he was
safe and in no danger, they asked why he had called at that particular
time. He replied, “The bishop this evening had the strongest impression
to have me call home. He came over to my apartment and said he would not
leave until I called home.”
We
need to understand that some things demand pleading with the Lord. When
we come to know that without his help we cannot possibly accomplish our
desires, then we must learn to plead to whatever extent necessary.
Great
blessings are wrought through prayer. The God of heaven would not
expect us to pray to him if he had no intention of answering our
prayers.
One
of the choicest experiences of my life was to kneel in prayer in the
office of President Spencer W. Kimball. I felt President Kimball’s
overpowering love for our Father in Heaven as we knelt together. He
taught us much about prayer through his example. We need to learn that
we should pray as though everything depended upon God, and then work as
though everything depended upon us. When we follow through on our part
of the agreement with our Heavenly Father, answers always come. May we
have gratitude to God, who is always available to answer a simple prayer
of a believer.
