Final Remarks on Stewardship
By Richard Eyre

Editor's note: Today concludes Richard Eyre's discussion of the all-important attitude of Stewardship. Last Winter, during the "first half" of this column, Richard outlined and defined “The Three Deceivers” of Control, Ownership, and Independence, and detailed how our obsessions with them can ruin the quality of our lives. If you missed any of the earlier columns in this series, you can go to the Deceivers Archive (see right sidebar) to catch up. Then, in the second phase of the column, he replaced the deceivers with "The Three Alternatives" of SERENDIPITY, STEWARDSHIP, and "SYNERGICITY". (See the Alternatives Archive). Richard' is now well into the process of explaining each of the three Alternatives in detail. All of the month of June was devoted to Serendipity, and today we finish the discussion of the second alternative of Stewardship. Next week we will move to the third alternative of "SYNERGICITY".

Today all I want to do is tell you a story. It is a personal story, a personal experience, and one that perhaps taught me more about the true meaning of Stewardship than anything before or since in my life.

I hope you enjoy it, and learn from it, as much as I did.

Watching Stewardship in Action in the Life of a Prophet

There was a touch of humor in the humility with which Brother Haycock stated his request. Arthur Haycock, private secretary to President Spencer W. Kimball, was calling from Salt Lake City. When I answered my phone in the mission home, just south of London, Arthur said, “President Eyre, we’ll be landing there at Heathrow airport very late tomorrow night. I am so sorry for the imposition, but could you possibly arrange to meet President Kimball and me at the airport? We’ll only be there overnight. If you could just bring us to our hotel?”

Imposition? To greet the prophet? To tell him of the British Saints’ love? I knew Arthur well enough to joke a little. “Well, it is a grave inconvenience, but I suppose we’ll manage somehow.”

I hung up the phone and sat there, trying to think of something I could do to demonstrate the gratitude of all church members in England and the high esteem in which they held President Kimball. I tried to think of some gesture or token of respect. An idea occurred to me and I acted on impulse. I called Lord Grade, British movie impresario, producer of films like Gandhi and Chariots of Fire, who had become a personal friend and who I knew had a large, comfortable limousine.

I got him on the phone and made my request. His answer was remarkable. “I know of your President Kimball and hold him in the highest regard. Which limousine do you want?” I had no idea that he had more than one. He said he would send the biggest.

The next evening, as I sat in the study on the front of the mission home, we seemed to experience an eclipse. I looked up to see what was blocking the light and saw, at our curb, a classic and truly enormous black Rolls Royce limousine. I couldn’t see the front end. The car seemed to be longer than the house. Suddenly I had serious misgivings about my “gesture.” I recalled how our humble, unpretentious Prophet was driven around Salt Lake City in a simple Chevy.

But it was too late now. The uniformed chauffeur was ringing the doorbell and President Kimball’s flight was due in an hour at Heathrow.

When we got there, the chauffeur simply pulled up to the curb directly in front of the terminal. I realized that no one questioned the authority of this car. It could park wherever it wanted.

The flight was delayed, so Linda and I waited at the age, feeling ore and more certain we had done something very silly by coming in London’s biggest limo. (I had visions of President Kimball stepping into the car and saying, “President, can we have a look at your mission budget?”)

When the plane finally arrived, it was nearly midnight. President Kimball looked tired as he walked up the jet way with Arthur Haycock, but his face beamed as he caught our eye.

As we proceeded back down the concourse he insisted on carrying his own briefcase ? the old-fashioned kind that opens at the top. The hasp was broken so one side was sagging out and it looked as though some papers might fall out. Before I could do anything, Arthur noticed the situation and acted dramatically. Whipping off his belt, he wrapped it around the President’s briefcase, pulled it tight, buckled it up, and stood back looking quite proud of himself. A twinkle came to President Kimball’s eye and he said, “Why thank you, Arthur, but are you sure we don’t now have a more serious problem?”

I was amazed ? a man in his eighties, tired and jet lagged, but still full of humor and light.

By pure chance (or maybe more than that) the nearly deserted concourse led us toward a gate where 12 unmistakable, dark-suited, brand-new missionaries awaited a delayed connection to the Continent. President Kimball caught sight of them and his whole demeanor and energy level changed. He made a beeline for them, leaving Linda, Arthur, and me in his dust.

I’ve often tried to imagine what those new elders thought. Standing there in Heathrow Airport, one day out of the Missionary Training Center and on their way to their field of labor. They look up, and there is the Prophet of the Lord, heading straight for them, beaming like a light bulb.

He didn’t shake their hands, he bear-hugged them ? his short arms reaching right abound the waist of some of the taller elders. There were tears in his eyes, and in theirs. I’ve since wondered if that one brief moment didn’t give them a strength and power that lasted throughout their entire missions.

We proceeded down the concourse and finally emerged directly in front of the ominous car. The chauffeur opened the door for President Kimball and he climbed in without any comment. Arthur joined him and they walked back through the deep recess of the limo to the back seat. Linda and I sat up in front with the chauffeur and we were off down the motorway.

It was quiet inside the limo and I was left to worry about the pretentious impression I’d created. Then there was a shuffle way back in the rear and I turned to see President Kimball walking up toward the front. “Here comes the question about the mission budget,” I thought, hoping that the Prophet’s sense of humor was still activated.

But it was the chauffeur he wanted a word with. He put his hand on his shoulder and the driver turned, somewhat startled. Chauffeurs are rarely spoken to in England, where they are thought of as part of the car. There was concern in his deep voice as President Kimball said, “Young man, it’s late and we kept you waiting for some time. I’m so sorry if we are keeping you from your home and family.”

I’ve never forgotten the moment or its lessons. This was the Prophet of the Lord. His briefcase and his mind must have been full of matters more important than I could imagine. Yet he saw the lighter side and lifted us with his humor; he gave his love to the surprised missionaries in a way they will never forget; he cared about one insignificant stranger who was driving the car, and about his family.

I was worrying about what impression a car would make. But President Kimball was uninterested in cars. He was interested in people, in their feelings, in their lives. He was a steward, not only over his vast calling and responsibility but over the opportunities, the situations, and above all the people who passed through his sweet and worthy life.

May we all move in that direction.

If you would like a half price copy of Richard's book Stewardship of the Heart, drop him an e mail at Richard@meridianmagazine.com, and he will send you instructions as to how to get a copy. If you have already requested a copy, be patient, you will receive an e mail shortly. There is now some thought about making The Three Deceivers and The Three Alternatives into a book. (incorporating the attitudes of Serendipity, Stewardship, and Synergicity.) Let us know your feelings about that and whether you might like to have a copy.

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