By permission from Malin Lewis’s widow, the following true story illustrates how faith is often tested in the crucible of sacrifice, resulting in Christ-like charity.
It was December, 1947; the morning frost sparkling in the desert of Ajo, Arizona, a sleepy mining community nestled between Tucson and Yuma. The War was over. The boys were home from the boiling suns of Asia to the battered beaches of Normandy. Tractors hummed, the copper mine whistled with steam shovels, and life felt renewed. Malin and Myreel Lewis toiled together as owners of the bustling town dairy. This was a dairy without cows, but it served as the milk, cheese and ice cream distribution center to a hungry desert community. Together with their three young children, the Lewises were carving a life of promise filled with dreams of warm nights and the chocolate of safer days. Malin was serving as president of the Ajo Branch–150 members strong. The Brethren from Salt Lake often visited Ajo and the Lewis family rarely missed the trek to General Conference.
For years, the Ajo congregation had been praying for a new chapel. As postwar materials became available, Malin had high hopes for a new building site. The chosen site was a prime corner owned by Phelps Dodge, the huge mining conglomerate. One Sunday, a Baptist revival tent went up on the site. Malin and his counselors became concerned, so they approached Mr. Ernest Witteneau, manager of the Ajo mine. Mr. Witteneau was no stranger to Mormons, having worked with many members of the Church during the War as manager of the Morenci mine. In his office now sat the Branch Presidency.
Malin took the lead, humbly asking if the company would sell the land to the Church so members would have a proper meeting place. President Lewis explained how the Branch had outgrown its present facility, sending five classes to various homes on Sunday and having to disperse the scouting program and others throughout the neighborhood on Tuesday nights. Mr. Witteneau responded politely, but firmly, “Gentlemen, I can tell you right now the answer is no. If we gave you that building site, we would have a half-dozen churches on our necks because we have turned them all down.”
The Branch Presidency reported the bad news to the members, asking them to fast and pray morning and evening to be worthy to receive the site for a chapel and for the Lord to soften the hearts of the mining officials. The spirit softening came with a phone call to Sister Lewis some days later. Mr. Witteneau invited her husband to put the building-site request in writing. Malin did so, explaining that Church headquarters had approved the building, provided the members contributed 30% of the financing and labor.
With faith, and before Mr. Witteneau replied to the written request, Malin and his counselors purchased a cement block-making plant. Each night the Branch Presidency would head to the arroyos and collect sand to make the blocks for the new chapel, forming the blocks one at a time–never mind the small detail that Phelps Dodge had not yet decided to sell the land to the Church.
Within ten days of the fasting and prayers of the Branch members, Phelps Dodge responded by sending a black Cadillac bearing Mr. Witteneau to the Lewis’s home. He offered the prime land (three contiguous lots) to the Church. “Would ten dollars be too much?” he asked. When the sale closed, Phelps Dodge settled for one dollar! Mr. Witteneau explained that after he first rejected the request, owners of the company toured the Ajo mine with him. In the tour, Mr. Witteneau recalled the kindness shown to him during the War by Spencer W. Kimball, president of the Mt. Graham Stake serving the Gila Valley.
When manpower was scarce, Elder Kimball went out of his way to provide workers to keep the Morenci mine operating. “You can thank Mr. Kimball for this turn of events,” said Mr. Witteneau. By February, 1948, Malin and Myreel traveled to Los Angeles to meet with the Church architect. The new chapel was moving from dream to reality.
Because of the kindness shown by Spencer W. Kimball, Phelps Dodge changed its tight-fisted hold-the-land mentality and would eventually deed land to the Baptists and Catholics for their churches as well. Those congregations may never know the real story behind the building-site donations: an apostle of nobility and branch members whose faith, prayers and actions overcame all obstacles; but that is not the end of the story.
Some of the Baptists were rife with jealousy for the Phelps Dodge favorable treatment of the Mormons. Tensions were high as winter yielded to spring. It was March 20, 1948. Reverend Haskell Beck of the Baptist Church came to the Lewis Dairy to pay his milk bill. As he backed out of the garage parking space, the pastor accidentally ran over and killed the Lewis’s little daughter, Ardene. He drove off not realizing what he had done. Though heartsick, Malin Lewis felt so tender and forgiving toward the reverend that he tried to keep the knowledge of how Ardene died from Mr. Beck. Only when the reverend got home and saw strands of the little girl’s hair lodged in his bumper did he realize his car had actually struck the young child. The very evening of Ardene’s death, Malin and Myreel were on the reverend’s doorstep to tell him that they forgave him.
From Malin Lewis’s personal journal entry, March, 1948: “Our Father in Heaven blessed us so that the bitterness did not destroy His comforting spirit. The entire Baptist Church attended the funeral and gave a very special floral wreath…the Spirit whispered that little Ardene was required as an offering that the spirit of brotherhood might prevail in our little community of Ajo. Never did the Baptist people speak with jealousy or envy because of our land and building.”
By permission from Malin Lewis’s widow, the following true story illustrates how faith is often tested in the crucible of sacrifice, resulting in Christ-like charity.
It was December, 1947; the morning frost sparkling in the desert of Ajo, Arizona, a sleepy mining community nestled between Tucson and Yuma. The War was over. The boys were home from the boiling suns of Asia to the battered beaches of Normandy. Tractors hummed, the copper mine whistled with steam shovels, and life felt renewed. Malin and Myreel Lewis toiled together as owners of the bustling town dairy. This was a dairy without cows, but it served as the milk, cheese and ice cream distribution center to a hungry desert community. Together with their three young children, the Lewises were carving a life of promise filled with dreams of warm nights and the chocolate of safer days. Malin was serving as president of the Ajo Branch–150 members strong. The Brethren from Salt Lake often visited Ajo and the Lewis family rarely missed the trek to General Conference.
For years, the Ajo congregation had been praying for a new chapel. As postwar materials became available, Malin had high hopes for a new building site. The chosen site was a prime corner owned by Phelps Dodge, the huge mining conglomerate. One Sunday, a Baptist revival tent went up on the site. Malin and his counselors became concerned, so they approached Mr. Ernest Witteneau, manager of the Ajo mine. Mr. Witteneau was no stranger to Mormons, having worked with many members of the Church during the War as manager of the Morenci mine. In his office now sat the Branch Presidency.
Malin took the lead, humbly asking if the company would sell the land to the Church so members would have a proper meeting place. President Lewis explained how the Branch had outgrown its present facility, sending five classes to various homes on Sunday and having to disperse the scouting program and others throughout the neighborhood on Tuesday nights. Mr. Witteneau responded politely, but firmly, “Gentlemen, I can tell you right now the answer is no. If we gave you that building site, we would have a half-dozen churches on our necks because we have turned them all down.”
The Branch Presidency reported the bad news to the members, asking them to fast and pray morning and evening to be worthy to receive the site for a chapel and for the Lord to soften the hearts of the mining officials. The spirit softening came with a phone call to Sister Lewis some days later. Mr. Witteneau invited her husband to put the building-site request in writing. Malin did so, explaining that Church headquarters had approved the building, provided the members contributed 30% of the financing and labor.
With faith, and before Mr. Witteneau replied to the written request, Malin and his counselors purchased a cement block-making plant. Each night the Branch Presidency would head to the arroyos and collect sand to make the blocks for the new chapel, forming the blocks one at a time–never mind the small detail that Phelps Dodge had not yet decided to sell the land to the Church.
Within ten days of the fasting and prayers of the Branch members, Phelps Dodge responded by sending a black Cadillac bearing Mr. Witteneau to the Lewis’s home. He offered the prime land (three contiguous lots) to the Church. “Would ten dollars be too much?” he asked. When the sale closed, Phelps Dodge settled for one dollar! Mr. Witteneau explained that after he first rejected the request, owners of the company toured the Ajo mine with him. In the tour, Mr. Witteneau recalled the kindness shown to him during the War by Spencer W. Kimball, president of the Mt. Graham Stake serving the Gila Valley.
When manpower was scarce, Elder Kimball went out of his way to provide workers to keep the Morenci mine operating. “You can thank Mr. Kimball for this turn of events,” said Mr. Witteneau. By February, 1948, Malin and Myreel traveled to Los Angeles to meet with the Church architect. The new chapel was moving from dream to reality.
Because of the kindness shown by Spencer W. Kimball, Phelps Dodge changed its tight-fisted hold-the-land mentality and would eventually deed land to the Baptists and Catholics for their churches as well. Those congregations may never know the real story behind the building-site donations: an apostle of nobility and branch members whose faith, prayers and actions overcame all obstacles; but that is not the end of the story.
Some of the Baptists were rife with jealousy for the Phelps Dodge favorable treatment of the Mormons. Tensions were high as winter yielded to spring. It was March 20, 1948. Reverend Haskell Beck of the Baptist Church came to the Lewis Dairy to pay his milk bill. As he backed out of the garage parking space, the pastor accidentally ran over and killed the Lewis’s little daughter, Ardene. He drove off not realizing what he had done. Though heartsick, Malin Lewis felt so tender and forgiving toward the reverend that he tried to keep the knowledge of how Ardene died from Mr. Beck. Only when the reverend got home and saw strands of the little girl’s hair lodged in his bumper did he realize his car had actually struck the young child. The very evening of Ardene’s death, Malin and Myreel were on the reverend’s doorstep to tell him that they forgave him.
From Malin Lewis’s personal journal entry, March, 1948: “Our Father in Heaven blessed us so that the bitterness did not destroy His comforting spirit. The entire Baptist Church attended the funeral and gave a very special floral wreath…the Spirit whispered that little Ardene was required as an offering that the spirit of brotherhood might prevail in our little community of Ajo. Never did the Baptist people speak with jealousy or envy because of our land and building.”
When the Baptists eventually built their own chapel, the Branch Presidency donated the block-making plant and the Lewis Dairy provided the electrical power. Despite a terrible tragedy, little Ardene, taken at the tender age of 18 months, brought a community together to remind us all that the Savior’s atoning sacrifice salves wounds, heals broken hearts and replaces anger and jealousy with His love and a charity that “envieth not” (Moro 7:45-48).
The Lewises reared eleven other children, leaving a legacy of love and discipleship. For a growing branch of 150 members in 1947-48, faith and prayers became a living, breathing brotherhood and community of Christ.
When the Baptists eventually built their own chapel, the Branch Presidency donated the block-making plant and the Lewis Dairy provided the electrical power. Despite a terrible tragedy, little Ardene, taken at the tender age of 18 months, brought a community together to remind us all that the Savior’s atoning sacrifice salves wounds, heals broken hearts and replaces anger and jealousy with His love and a charity that “envieth not” (Moro 7:45-48).
The Lewises reared eleven other children, leaving a legacy of love and discipleship. For a growing branch of 150 members in 1947-48, faith and prayers became a living, breathing brotherhood and community of Christ.
