When I returned to the LDS Church — after a 20-year vacation — a wise bishop in Brigham City issued me a calling. He asked me to be Sister Ellen Koford's assistant in the nursery.

My job was to make sure every child got a drink of water and a vanilla wafer.

Ellen's job was to dry tears and runny noses, keep everyone safe, and gather the children together for stories and games.

Ellen was famous for her chickens back then. When Brigham City changed its zoning policies, Ellen's hen house got grandfathered into the community. And I've thought many times since how much she was like a mother hen herself ?— especially with those kids in the nursery.

At her funeral last Saturday, several people told how she was the same way with her family. She loved to "gather them in" — to make sure they had something to eat, that they were warm and safe.

It may sound like an insult to some — comparing an old woman to a mother hen — but to me it is a noble comparison.

Jesus compared himself to a mother hen in Luke:

How often would I have gathered thy children together, as a hen doth gather her brood under her wings, and ye would not!

It's no accident the same image shows up in the Doctrine and Covenants, not to mention in Joel, Ezekiel, Isaiah, the Psalms and many other scriptures.

It's also no accident that one of the most beloved hymns — a favorite of both my father and President Gordon B. Hinckley — is "Jesus Lover of My Soul."

It is a hymn about the Savior gathering us together and covering us "with the shadow of his wing."

I'm sure that was the lesson the bishop wanted me to learn from Ellen. He hoped Ellen would soften me up.

I'd been playing the role of "lone wolf" for many years. I'd forgotten what it felt like to be protected and spiritually nourished.

I'd also forgotten what it felt like to be the mother hen, to bring others in close, break down barriers, speak from the heart, and share warmth and understanding.

That was the lesson I was supposed to learn. And, thanks to Ellen Koford, it remains the most important lesson I've learned since my return to the church.

I miss Ellen.

I miss seeing her in her coat and head scarf, heading out to feed her chickens like some grandmother in a Grimm's fairy tale.

But most of all, I miss seeing her playing mother hen to those nursery kids.

Till the day she died, I don't think she knew that I was one of them. Every Sunday I would cozy up to her with the rest of the brood, looking to share her warmth and tenderness, her sweetness, her softness.

Thanks to Ellen I was able to learn — once again — what it means to be a Latter-day Saint.

Jerry Johnston is a Deseret News staff writer. "New Harmony" appears weekly in the Mormon Times section.