“And now the Lord had shown unto me, Abraham, the intelligences that were organized before the world was; and among all these there were many of the noble and great ones…"
“I observed that they were also among the noble and great ones…even before they were born, they, with many others, received their first lessons in the world of spirits and were prepared to come forth in the due time of the Lord to labor in his vineyard for the salvation of the souls of men.”
--Abraham 3:22, D&C 138:55-56
One of our fundamental LDS doctrines: that our existence did not start on this earth, nor does it end here. We lived with the Father before we were born, and if we prove faithful, we can return to His presence. Further, some of the Father’s children were more valiant than others, even before coming to this earth. Those that were most valiant are described by the Lord as “noble” and “great.” And they were set aside to come to the earth when their influence would be the most needed. They were chosen to labor for our salvation.
Last week, a friend, who by very definition was a “noble and great” son of Heavenly Father, left this mortal journey and returned from whence he came. And this loss has impacted me greatly. Perhaps the hardest loss I’ve experienced thus far. I’ve spent the last week pondering why. Why, when I’ve lost other friends, a grandparent, even a baby brother, why has this death so profoundly affected me? And the only answer I’ve come up with is that perhaps the impact of someone’s death is directly related to the impact of their life.
And no one, other than my parents, has had such a great impact on my life. This friend was more than a friend. He was a mentor, a confidant, an inspiration. I tried to come up with a way to describe to someone the role he played in my life, and could only come up with one description.
He was my Dumbledore.
I met him when we moved all the way across the country, from Georgia to Arizona, half-way through my sophomore year of high school. I was new and in total culture shock. The west was nothing like the south where I had grown up. I was in desperate need of a friend, of a place to belong, and I found it at the seminary building and in my seminary teacher, Brother Howells.
For my friends who grew up on the east coast, their seminary experience was early in the morning, before school, and their teacher was a volunteer from the local congregation who usually taught the kids in their home. That was what I experienced for the first year and a half of high school – waking up at 5:30 AM to have “Bible study,” as my non-LDS friends called it. In the west, seminary is part of your school day. The seminary building is built adjacent to the high school (but off school property, for legal reasons), and your seminary class is just like any other class period. The seminary teachers are trained as part of the CES (Church Educational System) program and are paid professionals. It’s a totally different experience – one I’m so glad I got a chance to be a part of.
I’m sure that Brother Howells inspired many of his students. He was charismatic, understanding, involved, and most importantly, knowledgeable about the gospel. He was a loving husband and devoted father. He set an example of how to live an honorable life. As a teenager, I was impressed that he made his way to so many events involving his students – football games, track meets, concerts and recitals. As an adult and mother of two small children, I am simply in awe. I had no idea back then the effort and sacrifice it took for him, a father of three small girls at the time, to spend not only his professional work day with 150+ teenagers, but then to voluntarily and enthusiastically involve himself in their out-of-classroom lives. Not to mention he was soon called to be a bishop of one of the local congregations that so many of his students attended.
As I got to know Brother Howells over the years, our relationship deepened. I spent many hours over at his home, talking with him and his wife and playing with his adorable girls. He and his wife always treated me as a friend, not just some student. I was so impressed with the man he was and the life he had created for him and his family, that I decided I wanted that life for myself. I was determined to only marry a man that measured up to Brother Howells’ standard. And I decided I wanted to impact people’s lives the way he impacted mine, so I set out to BYU to become a part of CES myself.
It was much harder than I anticipated. The program was very competitive, and catered more toward men. I didn’t think I stood a chance. After each semester, the candidate pool grows smaller as fewer and fewer students are selected to move forward in the program. In two year’s time, the pool shrinks from 400+ students to around 25. Those 25 students are offered the opportunity to teach part-time in local high schools.
I spent many a night on the phone with Brother Howells, often in tears, getting tips and encouragement from my mentor. I was elated when I was selected to be one of the 25 students to teach. I was given 3 class periods of 9th graders. The curriculum that year was the Book of Mormon. I was terrified. What if I didn’t know the answers to the kids’ questions. What if I couldn’t bring the Spirit into the classroom? What if the parents thought I was too young to be teaching their kids and pulled them out of my class? What if the kids hated me? But Brother Howells calmed my fears and encouraged me – and I plowed forward.
That year was the hardest, most rewarding year of my life (up to that point at least). Some of the kids did hate me. There were times when I did struggle to bring the Spirit. And I often didn’t know the answers to the kids’ questions. Many times I felt like quitting. This wasn’t the experience I thought it was going to be, the one I was hoping for. But I managed to survive, with my own personal cheerleader supporting me through the whole process.
I emerged from the other side of that year a different person. More humble. More understanding. More deeply committed to living the gospel. And with a much greater appreciation for the man Brother Howells was and the impact he was able to have in the lives of so many. For the first time, I truly understood how “noble and great” he was – and that he was chosen to labor for the salvation of so many men, and women, all in a very impressionable time in their lives, when daily decisions mold the paths that will be available for them to take and the very people they will become.
I would like to say I was a success as a seminary teacher. Hopefully I did help someone’s testimony grow. But I think my only success that year was my own – that my own testimony had grown. I did not pursue the program any further and was not hired on to be a full-time teacher. A year later, Michael and I moved back to the east coast.
I would see Brother Howells from time to time when I would visit my parents in Arizona. But he and his family eventually moved back to Utah, where he and his wife were both from, and we fell out of touch with one another. But my gospel teaching didn’t end with my year as a paid teacher. I was soon asked to join the institute program here in NC as an instructor, and now find myself teaching gospel doctrine each week to a class of 40+ adults every Sunday. And although I had years of tutelage under some of the most respected gospel scholars at BYU, I find myself turning back to my seminary scriptures time and time again as I prepare my lessons, reading the meticulous notes I took as I listened to the gospel being taught through Brother Howells.
My patriarchal blessing talks about me being called to be a gospel teacher, and admonishes me to be a gospel scholar as well. I think Brother Howells was put in my path to help me on my journey toward becoming who I am meant to become. A laborer for the salvation of my soul, indeed!
It was such a shock to me when I found out, late last Monday, that he had passed on. He was only 41 and had since had 3 young boys – a total of 6 kids. His oldest was a senior in high school. All 6 kids are still living at home. How could his mortal experience have ended already, and so abruptly? Didn’t he have more work to do? What about his wife and kids? Didn’t he need to spend more time with them? To be able to see his grandchildren come into the world? I grieved for Amy and the kids, for the loss they have sustained. But our doctrine on the plan of salvation and our destinies brings great comfort.
President Joseph F. Smith further taught about these “noble and great ones”, that “the faithful elders of this dispensation, when they depart from mortal life, continue their labors in the preaching of the gospel…among those who are in darkness and under the bondage of sin in the great world of the spirits of the dead” (D&C 138:57). I know that’s where Brother Howells has been sent. His work hasn’t ended. It’s just continuing in another venue. Michael said, “Don’t you think he’s teaching the Teacher Improvement Class on the other side?” If so, those teachers are blessed to be instructed by a master teacher.
Among members of our faith, there are a few who are referred to as being from “pioneer stock” – meaning that their faith is strong enough, they could have crossed the plains with the early saints and remained true to the gospel, no matter what the circumstances. Many pioneer women arrived in the Salt Lake valley, having buried husbands and children along the way. As they crossed the plains, they sang a song beloved among our members:
“And should we die, before our journey’s through, happy day, all is well.
We then are free from toil and sorrow too. With the just, we shall dwell.”
Amy, Brother Howell’s wife, is of pioneer stock. Her faith is strong and unshakable. Had she been a pioneer woman, she would have sang this song as she too, along with countless others, buried her husband as she made her way westward to Zion. And so she has, placing him in a grave that will hold him temporarily as she makes her way to Zion with her children.
But happy day. All is well. Dan is dwelling with the just, waiting for his queen to join him by his side.
“Gird up your loins, fresh courage take, our God will never us forsake.
And soon we’ll have this tale to tell: All is well. All is well.”
Good bye, Brother Howells. Until we meet again…
To see his "memorial blog", click here.
There is a site, LDS Primary Posters, donating all their sales for the month of April to the Howells' family, being put into a trust fund for the kids. If you are interested in purchasing any of their products, or simply making a donation, click here. Please share this link with anyone who might be interested in purchasing primary posters for church or FHE use, or would like to donate to this cause.
