President Monson illustrates in this story that everyone, in even the smallest ways, can help ease the burdens of their fellowmen:
When I was a young man serving as the bishop of a large ward in Salt Lake City, one evening, at a late hour, my telephone rang. I heard a voice say, “Bishop Monson, this is the hospital calling. Kathleen McKee, a member of your congregation, has just passed away. Our records reveal that she had no next of kin, but your name is listed as the one to be notified in the event of her death. Could you come to the hospital right away?”
Upon arriving there, I was presented with a sealed envelope that contained a key to the modest apartment in which Kathleen McKee had lived. A childless widow seventy-three years of age, she had enjoyed but few of life’s luxuries and possessed scarcely sufficient of its necessities. In the twilight of her life, she had become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Being a quiet and overly reserved person, little was known about her.
That same night I entered her tidy basement apartment, turned on the light switch, and in a moment discovered a letter written ever so meticulously in Kathleen McKee’s own hand. It rested face up on a small table and read:
Bishop Monson,
I think I shall not return from the hospital. In the dresser drawer is a small insurance policy that will cover funeral expenses. The furniture may be given to my neighbors.
In the kitchen are my three precious canaries. Two of them are beautiful, yellow-gold in color, and are perfectly marked. On their cages I have noted the names of friends to whom they are to be given. In the third cage is “Billie.” He is my favorite. Billie looks a bit scrubby, and his yellow hue is marred by gray on his wings. Will you and your family make a home for him? He isn’t the prettiest, but his song is the best.
She had also left two Alka-Seltzer bottles filled with quarters, and this message: “Bishop, here is my fast offering. I am square with the Lord.” A spirit of peace filled that apartment. A silent sermon had been delivered.
In the days that followed, I learned much more about Kathleen McKee. She had befriended many neighbors in need. She had given cheer and comfort almost daily to a physically handicapped person who lived down the street. Indeed, she had brightened each life she touched.
Kathleen McKee was much like “Billie,” her prized yellow canary with gray on its wings. She was not blessed with beauty, gifted with poise, or honored by posterity. Yet her song helped others to more willingly bear their burdens and more ably shoulder their tasks. (Inspiring Experiences That Build Faith: From the Life and Ministry of Thomas S. Monson [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1994], 221–223)