Three weeks ago during priesthood leadership meeting in the Walla Walla Washington Stake conference, multiple cell phones began to sing in unison a polite mode oratorio. We had to wait an hour longer to find out that Ross Barfuss had disappeared into the surf at Gleneden Beach on the Oregon Coast and was feared drowned.

The details were sparse: Ross had tried to save a little boy in the ocean but failed. The Coast Guard and local search and rescue personnel were still trying to recover his body.

Not possible! I knew Ross was almost an Eagle Scout and a good swimmer. It had happened so fast. His friend Garrett and little brother Lance were on the beach wading in the surf with Ross for an hour or so. Their dad told them to go no further than knee-deep water as the dangerous Oregon surf is known for its strong waves and riptides. The biting 45-degree Alaskan current numbs one's toes in seconds.

Then an 11-year-old boy named River Jenison appeared on the beach. The powerful surf was inviting and mesmerizing — and deceptive. It wasn't long before River was knocked down by a wave and in trouble. Ross saw him being sucked out by the riptide, and knew he had no time to think, but act.

As darkness fell on March 8, 2008, the search was called off. River's body was recovered 45 minutes after the accident, one mile down the coastline. Ross was nowhere to be found. The next day, instead of his ward meeting in church, they met at the Oregon Coast and spread up and down twenty miles searching for Ross' body. All they found were his shoes.

What kind of boy becomes a hero? All of the Portland television stations and newspapers wanted to know. Did he really give up his own life to try to save the life of a total stranger? They sought out his family members, friends, schoolmates, scoutmasters, and church leaders. They interviewed anyone they could who might be able to tell them about this Ross Barfuss.

TV cameras followed the mourners to the Aloha Oregon Ward for the memorial service. The story was told in every Oregon household; the common line was, “The selflessness Ross Barfuss exhibited in his final act was no surprise to friends and relatives.”

In the summer of 1999, the David Barfuss family moved into our Pendleton Oregon 2 nd Ward. Ross was a little red-haired boy with freckles. He was always smiling, probably because he knew something was going on we didn't.

I became his Young Men president, and his father was my counselor. I quickly learned in my calling that Ross was the one young man who made my job easier. He had been taught the gospel well and had a good grasp of right and wrong.

I can't think of one situation where Ross chose anything but right. This was very helpful in peer pressure politics, where boys keep each other in line when their leaders can't. Ross even had a moderating influence on his older brother Derek, who was always pushing the envelope.

As a newly called bishop in the summer of 2005, I interviewed Ross as he prepared to be ordained a teacher. To get to know the youth better I drew their portraits in my sketchbook as we talked. (I only had 15 to 30 minutes before they would start squirming.)

When I told Ross' mother Deanna that I had sketched him, she responded, “I hope you captured that ever-present smile on his face.” After 30 minutes of sketching Ross, that is precisely what was lost. But it captured his essence as a young man sitting across the bishop's desk with “bishop questions” still lingering on his face.

My sketch of Ross Barfuss.

Because the Barfuss family had just moved out of our ward last year, there were two memorial services. Family and friends who spoke reminded us:

I personally had Ross come work in my yard. He was the “red tornado.” His scout leader marveled how unusual it was that Ross wanted a leaf blower for a birthday present. He figured it was an entrepreneurial enterprise. Ross was a hard worker and good at raising money.

His brother Derek reminded us that Ross' favorites were Taco Bell, Twix candy bars, bicycle riding, rock climbing, and wild plaid suits. His brain was the repository of lyrics of thousands of songs. And when Ross was asked why he bleached out his red hair (which turned out light carrot orange), he replied, “Because blondes have more fun.”

His father reminded us in his eulogy how clever Ross was. In a recent stake dance, enterprising Ross plastered post-it notes on the walls of the cultural hall with his name and cell phone number for the young women to notice. He made sure they would notice by sticking a few extra on the girls' restroom door. As he made the rounds dancing with all the young women that night he would ask, “Who is this Ross Barfuss guy?”

Ross was a surprising virtuoso playing 10 or 15 seconds of many songs on the piano. Then, he would walk away as he ran out of notes. Little did we know that his piano playing was a portentous forecast of his good yet brief life.

I was reading from the Book of Mormon where Nephi is giving his parting testimony of the truth of his words. I thought of Ross as I read, “it maketh known unto them of their fathers; and it speaketh of Jesus and persuadeth them to believe in him, and to endure to the end, which is life eternal.” (2 Nephi 33:4)

In his memorial, I read this and testified of how Ross had truly done those things — to believe on Jesus and endure to the end. Young as he was, no better leader had ever shown his family the way into eternal life.

So what makes a hero a hero? As parents and Church leaders we are always trying to teach our youth to do what is right, no matter how difficult it might be or how unpopular it is. That is the essence of being a hero. Ross had learned how to do just that, even when unusual circumstances exploded on the scene. He knew what was right and his pattern was “do it!” Was he any different than Ammon or the sons of Helaman?

After the masses had returned home that evening, his father Dave showed me some priceless photographs that were too painful for most to look at. Ross' uncle had shot them with a telephoto lens at the beach that fateful Saturday. The short hairs on my neck rose in deepest respect for Ross.

There was little River Jenison, barely able to put his head out of the boiling surf, his eyes fixated on Ross. And there was Ross, seen from behind in a full run to meet his own death, his eyes apparently fixated on River. Neither boy seemed to be aware that there was a monstrous wall of water in the background about to come crashing down in another two or three seconds. Ross was a boy with a mission, and he was the only one close enough to do it.

If only he had arrived five seconds sooner, or the wave five seconds later, maybe this story would say, “hero saves little boy.”

The next photo showed barely the outline of Ross' head as the wave engulfed them both and carried them out to sea.

“Greater love hath no man than this ….”

Ross has led his older brother Derek on a mission. Ross has led his own family into eternal life. Ross has taught the youth of our church in a powerful way, the mutual theme this year, that they, “should be steadfast and immoveable, always abounding in good works, that Christ, the Lord God Omnipotent may seal you his, that you may be brought to heaven, that ye may have everlasting salvation and eternal life” ( Mosiah 5:15).

His father Dave said to me that night through his tears, we always worry as parents about how our children will turn out. I think with Ross we hit a homerun.”