Nineteen years ago things were tough.  I was serving in the stake presidency, our second son was serving a mission in England, our eldest son was back from his mission and was in college, finances were tight, my wife was caring for her bedridden mother, our eldest daughter and her husband were expecting their second baby, and we were expecting, too.  This baby would be our 10th.

My always “up” wife was depressed over the prospects.  She was 46 years old, had gone six years without having a baby, and thought she was through with child bearing.  Raising nine children had required total commitment.  My wife was now a grandmother.  She’d put in her time.  Rest and respite were in sight.  Grandmothers don’t have babies—especially while having to care for an invalid mother.  This was too much.

To compound things even more, Marjorie was sure that she was going to have a child with Down’s syndrome.  Older women sometimes do.  She’d gone all her life without a single contact with a Down’s syndrome person, but within the first months of this pregnancy she’d already met four.  This, she felt, was the Lord’s way of preparing her for what was coming.

With these thoughts and pressures, I had my own challenges in attempting to keep my spirits up.  I needed to project a happy, positive attitude in order to be a strength to my wife as well as to the stake members who looked to me for leadership.  I thought I was doing well.

It was 19 years ago, almost to the day, that I was standing in the foyer of the stake center following our May stake conference.  In my mind I can still see this episode as if it happened yesterday.  A venerable, red-haired sister that I greatly respected came up to greet me.  She took me by the hand, and asked me how I was.  I replied that I was fine.  She then said, “No, how are you really?” and commenced telling me a long story.  It was about a little girl who had visited her on three successive nights.  On the third night my friend asked the girl what her name was.

“Sissy,” the girl replied, “and you’re going to be my grandma.”

Three years later a little girl was born to her daughter, after years of trying unsuccessfully to have a child.  “What are you going to name it?” Grandma asked.

“Sissy,” the parents answered in unison.  (Grandma had never told them of the encounter she’d had with Sissy three years before).  There was much more to this very inspirational story.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this story,” the sister said to me.

I said, “Let me tell you why,” and told her that we were expecting our 10th child, that we had thought we were through, and that the thought of a pregnancy at age 46 had depressed my wife.  Up to that point neither my wife nor I had confided our secret to anyone, but there was something special about this situation, and about this good, older sister, so I opened my heart.

She brightened up and beamed on me at the news.  “This baby is special!  It will be one of the greatest blessings of your life.  You’ll see.  It will be a great blessing.”

She said it like a prophecy, and I believed it.

It was shortly after my encounter with this prophetess that Marjorie had her own comforting experience.  Hers came through the Spirit.  All her life, when she’s needed a pick-me-up, she has seated herself at the piano and played hymns.  On this occasion she was feeling particularly low.  Everything had combined against her.  “Heavenly Father can’t understand what I’m going through,” she thought.

She began playing “Be Still, My Soul.”  As she played and pondered the words of the hymn, a thrilling shock coursed through her own soul.

“Be still, my soul:  The Lord is on thy side;
With patience bear thy cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In ev’ry change he faithful will remain.

Be still, my soul:  Thy best, thy heav’nly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.
“Be still, my soul:  Thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as he has the past.

Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul:  The waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.”

Marjorie’s load suddenly lightened.  Heavenly Father did understand.  He knew her situation, and was orchestrating events.  All would be well.  The baby would be normal just like the priesthood blessing had stated that she’d received when she’d realized she was pregnant.  She just needed to have faith that everything would work out.  And it did.

Marjorie wondered how she could lift and care for her invalid mother as she got bigger and the pregnancy progressed.  One day she attempted to lift her mother, who resisted and struggled against her efforts.  Marjorie felt something rip inside.

The next day, as Marjorie entered her mother’s room, her mother spoke.  She hadn’t said anything meaningful for months.  “Dave was here last night,” her mother said.  “He said that I need to help you because you’re pregnant.  I didn’t know you were pregnant!”

An hour or two later Marjorie’s niece, Sandy, called.  “How are you?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Marjorie replied.

“Well, I feel that I should come and take care of Grandma.”

“No, I’m all right.  Maretta is coming in a couple of days.  I’ll be all right until then.”

“No, I’m coming now,” she said, and took over Grandma’s care until Marjorie’s sister, Maretta arrived two days later.

Maretta stayed a month, took over their mother’s care, and put herself in charge of the family’s laundry.  When Maretta’s month expired, their other sister, Mary, arrived.  She took care of Grandma, and painted the living room.  When her month was over, a niece, Debbie, arrived with her two children.  Debbie had been a single mother for eight years, and had struggled financially and in every other way, but had remained very faithful through her own trials.  Debbie took over Grandma’s care, and became a great comfort and friend to Marjorie through the last months of her pregnancy.  Debbie was a huge blessing.  We in turn blessed her by introducing her to the man to whom she was married three months after the baby was born.

On 9 November 1994 the baby was born.  The delivery was very difficult, but he was perfect in every detail.  We named him James Eli Kerns, and called him “Jamie.”  He was already an uncle.  He proved to be very popular with his nine older siblings, became best friends with the nephew and nieces who were close to him in age, and was greatly admired and loved by the dozens who came later.  He was, and continues to be, very special to them.

The boy was particularly obedient, never causing his parents or teachers the least trouble.  He never required discipline.  He was extremely shy, to begin with, but quietly strove to do and be the best in everything.  Having participated in his first multi-school, elementary-age track play day, he announced before the next year’s play day that he was going to come home with four blue ribbons, and did!  He could run faster and jump higher and farther than all the other grade-schoolers.

In the fourth grade he decided that “Jamie” had become a girl’s name, and changed his name to Eli.

He was very supple.  He could bend and twist in ways that made his stiff father and brothers wince in pain.  He would have made an excellent gymnast, and wished he could be, but no program nor trainers were available.

He began drawing as soon as he could control a pencil.  At age four he said, “I’m going to draw a toucan.”  His father wasn’t sure what a toucan even looked like, but quickly remembered when the boy handed him a picture a minute later of a perfectly-formed toucan.

Eli drew constantly.  He loved art in all of its aspects.  He drew, painted, sculpted, and did wood burnings.  As a senior in high school he sculpted a ceramic deer’s head from which sprouted branches instead of antlers.  In the branches perched five ceramic, blue birds.  The piece won “best of show” at the regional art competition of nine Eastern Oregon high schools.

The week before the art competition his choir teacher had him enter the regional voice competition.  His was the top tenor voice, and he went on to compete at the state level.

He took piano lessons from his mother, became an accomplished pianist, and was called at age 15 to be his ward’s pianist for priesthood meeting.

He was disappointed in the third quarter of his senior year of high school when he barely missed getting an “A” in his advanced chemistry class.  It was the first “B” he’d gotten since 6th grade.  Because of the advanced, college-level classes he took, he will graduate from high school with 24 college credits, and nearly a 4.5 G.P.A.

It was in October of his senior year that President Monson announced that 18-year-old young men would be allowed to serve missions.  Eli turned 18 one month later, submitted his application before graduating, and was called to serve in the Chile Santiago South Mission beginning 11 September 2013.  Eli was grateful to be called to serve where he’d be able to learn a new language.

For several summers he worked mostly alone in the mountains building fence for a rancher.  Combining his earnings with those received from Social Security because of being the minor child of a retired father, his mission and first year or two of college are paid for.

For years Eli has written almost daily in his journal.  He does so every evening just before going to bed.  Then he reads the scriptures.  By the time he graduated from high school he’d read the Book of Mormon eight times.

He’s an Eagle Scout.  He’s a graduate of four years of early-morning seminary.

The young man is humble, quiet, talented, obedient, goal oriented, hard-working, easy to get along with, and beloved by everyone.  His parents appreciate him.  His 42 nephews and nieces adore him.  His friends love him.  His leaders trust him and depend on him.

The prophetess said this baby would be special.  The prophecy stands fulfilled.

He’ll make a tremendous missionary.

What else will the Lord make of him?