The life of President Gordon B. Hinckley

However, "That proved to be a mere scratching of the surface. Since then, I have lifted my voice on every continent, in cities large and small, all up and down from north to south and east to west across this broad world. ...

"It is," he said, "all a miracle."

HUMOR — Put a little wit and laughter into your lives

President Gordon B. Hinckley was serious about humor.

"We need to have a little humor in our lives," he said in a Church News interview in September 1995. "We better take seriously that which should be taken seriously, but at the same time we can bring in a touch of humor now and again. If the time ever comes when we can't smile at ourselves, it will be a sad time."

President Hinckley's humor was always gentle and usually directed at himself.

During the press conference after he was set apart as the church's 15th president, President Hinckley was ready when he was asked about his health.

"I spent one night in the hospital in my life. I was past 75 when that occurred," he replied. "That doesn't mean I'm ready to run a 100-yard dash."

In the Tabernacle Choir performance at the Tuacahn outdoor amphitheater on a cold Sunday morning, April 9, 1995, he warmed the members of the Ivins, Washington County, audience, many under blankets, by dubbing the event "Music and the Frozen Word."

It was a quality he shared with his wife of nearly 67 years, Sister Marjorie Pay Hinckley. Following her death the Office of the First Presidency released a statement in which President Hinckley described his wife as "the lodestar of their family (who) gently guided her children with faith, intelligence and humor. Her happiest role was that of a supportive wife and mother (who) made good use of humor to settle many of life's difficulties. She was often heard to say, 'The only way to get through life is to laugh your way through it."'

President Hinckley's first address as a general authority poked fun at himself. He spoke at general conference the day he was sustained as an assistant to the Twelve, on April 6, 1958.

"My dear brethren and sisters," he said. "I don't know whether it's these new bifocals or the circumstances that make you look foggy. I'm reminded of a statement made by my first missionary companion when I received a letter of transfer to the European Mission office.

"After I'd read it, I turned it over to him. He read it and said: 'Well, you must have helped an old lady across the street in the pre-existence. It isn't anything you've done here."'

Family members spoke of a man who loved laughter.