There were eight children in our family. I was number six. As a girl of fourteen, I received an impression that I should go on a mission. When I turned 21, I still had that desire. My younger twin brothers, who were just about to turn 19, had always planned to serve missions. My older brother Phil, soon to be 23, had not served a mission; he had been out of the Church for the last seven years. My parents never lost hope in him, and our bishop said he knew Phil would come back someday, because throughout his inactivity, he had continued to pay his tithing.
Through the course of a few short months, a change began to take place in Phil and he felt a desire to return to the fold. He started attending the young adult ward and then indicated that he, too, would like to serve a mission. He asked the twins if they would wait for him so they could go into the Missionary Training Center (MTC) at the same time. In three months, all three were ready to leave for their missions.
We teased our parents about how they would now be footloose and fancy free. Their four oldest children were married and gone. Now their four youngest children would be serving missions. The new bishop, recently called to serve in our ward, asked to meet with my parents. "What are you going to do with your time now that all your children will be gone?" he lovingly asked. They told him they probably would just enjoy the peace and quiet. The bishop asked them if they would consider serving a mission. Their children had saved all of their lives so they could pay for their own missions, and they knew money wasn't a problem. After praying about it, they felt that it was the Lord's desire to have six members of the Sadleir family in the mission field at once!
After my three brothers left, I was to report to the MTC next. As I prepared to leave, I became very sick and had to postpone my departure date. The new date I was assigned to report to the MTC was February 14, the same day my parents were to report. The next eighteen months were glorious ones for our family. As we exchanged letters from one mission to the other, the spirit we felt was ever so strong. It was truly an incredible experience to be serving the Lord at the same time and in the same capacity. Our letters were all on the same wave length, and we shared in the joy of service together. During hard times it was an added benefit to have each other to lean on for encouragement, because each of us knew what the other was going through. Our lives would never be the same because of being in the Lord's service. We were already reaping a full harvest.
It just so happened that all six of us were scheduled to be released at about the same time. At the end of our missions we went on a Church History tour together. I had served near that area, and a family I had been teaching was now ready for baptism. When they learned that my family would be coming to pick me up, they asked if my father would baptize them. I called and told him to be sure to pack his white clothes. It was a wonderful way to end our full-time service to the Lord.
When we returned home, all six of us gave our homecoming talks on the same Sunday. Our older brothers and sisters came to support us and sang a special song. While we were gone, our ward had been divided. The two wards combined on that Sunday and we were given special permission to have a two-hour sacrament meeting, during which we shared some of our choicest experiences.
Ten months later, Phil was killed in a car accident. We were shocked and saddened by this turn of events. However, as we thought about his life during the past two years of service to the Lord, we were filled with a calm, peaceful feeling. When Phil returned to church after his seven years of being away, he wanted to make up for the wrongs he had done. We learned a great lesson as we watched him go through the steps of repentance.
On one occasion he was with a friend who stole an engine out of a car at a used-car dealership. Before entering the mission field, he went to the dealership and asked the manager how much it would cost for an engine. The manager looked puzzled and explained that they didn't sell just the "engine," but the whole car. My brother knew that, but still wanted to know how much an engine cost. When the manager told him, Phil wrote out a check for $1,000.00 and handed it to him. He explained that several years earlier, he had been with a friend who had stolen an engine out of one of the used cars in the parking lot. He wanted to put his life in order, and this was one way he was going about it. What an example he was to us.
At Phil's death, we were able to feel the joy of his life and gratitude for his change of heart. While on his mission, he was inspired to write beautiful poetry relating to the gospel. He experienced a total rebirth, and his death seemed to be symbolic of this. He had turned completely to Christ and had gone forward. We were no longer sad. We knew he was prepared to meet his Father in Heaven and would be able to continue to serve him. Now it was our responsibility to live so that we would be reunited as missionaries beyond the veil, and together serve once again.
--Julie Sadleir, daughter of Wilma & Edward Sadleir
(By Small & Simple Things)
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