I am impressed with the story about Tilly, a 10-year-old girl on vacation with her parents in Thailand in 2004.  Two weeks previously she had learned in her geography class about tsunamis, and the signs that precede them.  When she saw the bay in front of her hotel begin to froth as the tide unexpectedly began to go out, she knew what was happening.  She knew what was coming.  She ran to tell her parents.  She was frantic, and plead for them to believe that a tsunami was coming.  She and her parents cleared the beach and told everyone to evacuate vertically by going to the upper floors of the hotel.  The tsunami killed 200,000 people up and down many coasts of many countries, but none at that beach.  Ten-year-old Tilly's knowledge and timely warning saved a hundred lives.

Tilly was a child hero.  My mind began searching for others.

Another quick-thinking child hero was a pioneer boy in New England that I read about in grade school.  He had been ice skating when he was captured by the Indians.  They took him up the river to their camp where they inspected his ice skates.  They told him to show how the skates worked.  He put them on, went onto the ice, and pretended to be clumsy and awkward until he was some distance away from the onlooking Indians.  He then suddenly got his balance, and took off gliding rapidly down the river amid a hail of arrows.  I've always liked that story.

I was once a child hero, too.  I was six years old.  My father had hired the Johnson boys, twelve brothers from Tennessee, to log our place and to mill the trees into lumber.  They set up a sawmill in a clearing in the woods.  Sawing the logs into lumber created a huge amount of sawdust.  The accumulated sawdust was pushed by cat tractors into a giant pile the size and height of my living room.

Dad took me to visit the site.  As he talked with the loggers and inspected their work, I went to the sawdust pile.  That pile was a dream come true for a little boy who loved nothing more than to play in sand boxes.  Here was a sand box on a grand scale.  I soon had roads built in the sawdust hillside with pine cone cars driving on them.  Pine cone trees lined the roads and farms.  It was a glorious place to play.

I needed a gravel pit.  I began digging a hole into the pile.  The deeper I went, the hotter it got.  The bottom of the hole could have burned my hand.  This wasn't right.  I went to find my father.  He thrust his hand into the pile of wet sawdust, and then things began to happen.

The saw was shut off.  Cat tractors were called in from the woods.  The men went to work tearing the pile apart and leveling it out.  The sawdust in the center of the pile was black.  It was charcoal, ready to burst into flame.

My discovery prevented a forest fire.  I was a child hero.

Another child hero was 15-year-old Mormon.  He was just a boy, but he was appointed to be the leader of the Nephite army.  Why?  How could that have possibly come about?

Mormon was "large in stature" (Mormon 2:1), and undoubtedly conducted himself well.  He had everyone's respect.  He was well known because I suspect that his father was the chief commander before him.  That's how chief commanders and chief judges were chosen by the Nephites.  Sons succeeded their fathers.

The record states that "It came to pass that I, being eleven years old, was carried by my father into the land southward, even to the land of Zarahemla ... and it came to pass in this year there began to be a war between the Nephites ... and the Lamanites."  (Mormon 1:6, 8).  As chief commander of the Nephite army, Mormon's father had to be where hostilities would break out.  When the invasion started, my theory is that Mormon's father was killed.  Young Mormon took part in the battle, and had probably been assigned by his father to lead a group of men.  He led well, and continued to lead after his father had fallen.  It was a natural choice for him to be elevated to occupy his father's place.  He saved the Nephite nation.

A fifth child hero was Joseph 'Smith.  Just over three months past his 14th birthday he studied the Bible, exercised faith, and went to the woods to pray.  The result was a marvelous vision, and a calling to which he stayed faithful for the rest of his life.  He established The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints which is preparing the world for the Savior's Second Coming.

Samuel, Eli's boy assistant, was another child hero.  He was just a little boy when the Lord spoke to him, selected him, and prepared him to become the next prophet in Israel.

Josiah was seven years old when he was crowned king of Judah.  It was by design.  He turned the nation from violence and idolatry to righteousness.

Seven child heroes.  There are more.  They're more common today than ever before.  In the Church we are surrounded by shiny children of faith who are sent here to accomplish spectacular things.  They come to me for patriarchal blessings.  They think that they're common, ordinary kids, but they're not.  The Lord has plans for them, and permits me to glimpse their potential.  I never cease to be amazed.  I want to watch them develop.  I try to remember them, but they're too numerous.  Besides that, I don't think that I'm supposed to remember them.  The Lord is preparing them, teaching them, leading them, and inspiring them.  They will perform great works and miracles.  I know this.

Talk about heroes!  They're all about us.  Just you watch.