You’ve probably never heard of Glenn Mower. If you don’t live in Fairview, or maybe Mt. Pleasant, there’s no reason you would have known him. Glenn Mower died last week. No one is writing newspaper articles about Glenn. But I wish they would.

Glenn was born on a small dairy farm in Fairview in 1945. His parents died in a tragic car accident when he was 20. He married his sweet Marian — a divorcée with 3 kids of her own — a few years later. He loved and raised her kids as his own and they had a daughter together. Glenn worked hard to provide for his family, but life was never easy. He had jobs in law enforcement, sales, manufacturing, and auto/home glass repair. His wife has been ill for many years and Glenn lovingly cared for her, always making meals and doing dishes. Glenn loved God and everyone around him.

I was called to serve as a bishop in my church when I was just 29. I had my day job as a telecom executive and had just been elected mayor of our small town. I was young, dumb, overwhelmed and really had no idea what I was doing. Glenn was 30 years my senior. But when I asked him to serve as my executive secretary, he didn’t hesitate to say yes. I’ll never forget him pulling my wife aside, with four small kids in tow, and telling her, “Don’t you worry, my job is to make your life easier. I will make sure your husband is home helping you as much as I possibly can.” And that’s exactly what he did.

A few months ago Glenn knocked on my door. “Bishop,” he said in a raspy voice (he still called me that), “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I don’t know who else to talk to. I have esophageal cancer. I only have a few months to live and I need some help. You know we don’t have much money — and I have no idea how much these things even cost — but I need a Will. I don’t want my death to be a burden to my wife or family.” I was stunned and saddened. He was nearing the end of mortality and all he could think about was helping others. We embraced and cried together. I told him I would do anything I could to help him. He thanked me and left. (I asked my Twitter friends if anyone could help, and the great Zach Bloxham volunteered to take care of Glenn pro bono. There is so much good in this world.)

Glenn had a beautiful, simple funeral today — befitting the beautiful, simple man that he was. Ward members and friends shared their memories of countless acts of service. His 20 grandchildren and 30 great grandchildren are his legacy. Glenn didn’t change as many lives as Thomas Monson or Matt Hillyard, but like Thomas Monson and Matt Hillyard, he changed mine.