A gracious and dignified woman beloved by her posterity and associates, Lorna Call Alder, 91, continues in a long life of service to others.

A resident of Provo, Utah, she taught elementary education at BYU for 35 years, postponing her final retirement until age 75. She served on the Sunday School General Board for 19 years and there became an associate of Gordon B. Hinckley.Their friendship was renewed recently when both attended the centennial of the Juarez Academy in Colonia Juarez, Mexico. While speaking at one of the services, he recognized her and afterwards they visited briefly and reminisced.

"He's always had a very keen sense of humor and the gift of discernment among people," she observed.

Since retiring, the native of the Mormon colonies in Mexico filled a proselyting mission in San Antonio, Texas, and then served temple missions in both Peru and Guatemala where she helped train Spanish-speaking ordinance workers. Her husband, Francis M. Alder, died in 1968.

She continues her service at the Provo Temple where she is a temple worker once a week, and often attends a Saturday session to assist a group of Spanish-speaking patrons with whom she has become closely attached.

Sister Alder, a daughter of Bishop Anson Call of Colonia Dublan, Mexico, supervised Church education in the colonies for eight years after graduating from BYU. She then received a master's degree in elementary education from Columbia University in New York and afterward joined the BYU faculty. Her brother, Elder Eran A. Call, was recently called to the Seventy.

Her formative years were spent in the colonies, quiet towns tucked well away from the mainstream. Mormon settlers had come here about 30 years before she was born to found a community in a place where they could provide for themselves, and have tranquility for their families.

The first years of her life were quiet ones. Colonists worked hard to survive in the high mountain country. By 1910, however, as orchards had reached maturity, comfortable homes had been erected and the land tamed, a measure of prosperity was reached in the Colonies.

However, that year unrest swept across Mexico with the beginnings of the Mexican Revolution. The conflict encompassed every level of society. Eventually, 15 percent of the population was killed or died from the effects of the war. (From Mormons in Mexico, by F. LaMond Tullis.)

The first hostilities took place in southern Mexico, but within two years, the remote world of the colonies was discovered by both rebel and federal troops, who alternately used the colonies as a source to replenish supplies. Church leaders emphasized a strictly neutral position but before long the relative prosperity in the colonies was gone. In the summer of 1912 when rebel forces began a wave of destructive action against the colonies, Apostle Anthony W. Ivins, the presiding leader, ordered an evacuation of the women and children. Many of the colonists, including the family of Bishop Anson Call, were among those evacuated to safer areas in August of 1912.

"I was 6 years old when we left at the time of the first exodus," Sister Alder recalled. "We couldn't take many things with us. I will never forget when we were waiting for the train. . . . We got a cattle car. We put our trunks and bedding on top and we just sat on it. It was very, very slow and tiresome."

The train carried the refugees to a lumber yard in El Paso, Texas. There, in rooms made of blanket walls, she remembers living on canned milk and graham crackers for a few days, then on soup. When Bishop Call arrived later on, he was placed in charge of distributing food, and did so by pulling around a large copper kettle on wheels filled with mulligan soup. After living in El Paso for less than a month, the Call family traveled by train to Bountiful, Utah, where they spent the winter of 1912-13 with a grandmother, and then returned home. The family left the colonies again in 1914, this time traveling by train and wagons to Tucson, Ariz., where they remained with another grandmother for a few months. They also left for a short time in 1916, following the withdrawal of American troops from the area.

"The Call family members were just like swallows," she said. "When somebody broke down their nests, they left, and waited until everything was peaceful, and then they built them up again and went twittering on."

After their return in 1915 from Tucson by wagon, conditions seemed more peaceful. The revolutionary Pancho Villa and his army stayed in Colonia Dublan for 22 days without anyone being harmed. A strict disciplinarian, Villa insisted that his men and the women and children who accompanied them not abuse the Mormons.

However, while in the neighboring town of Nueva Casas Grandes, he and a rival rebel leader, Venustiano Carranza, feuded. They divided into two factions and began open warfare against each other. After their battles, small bands of rebel groups began to prey on the colonies. The Call family suffered from two such incidents.

The first was on Christmas Eve, 1915. Six families had gathered at the Call home for protection. The women spent Christmas Eve making biscuits for one group of men. Then evening came.

"We call it the night of horror," she said. "Six times during the night, bands of men came taking food and clothing mostly. About midnight a group of men came who were rather drunk. We had no weapons." She was upstairs with the women and children.

"Father carried a kerosene lamp and took them through the house gathering different things they wanted. They took a pillow case and filled it with clothing." When they came to a locked trunk, they didn't wait for it to be unlocked, but shot it open with a pistol.

"When they had gone through the house, they put all men in the kitchen under guard. "They laughed and said, `Now we are going upstairs.' When father heard them, he came out of the kitchen and stood in the stairway. He pushed aside their guns and told them, `You go upstairs over my dead body.' " He then used his priesthood to order them to leave.

"Those men lowered their guns and went outside. Father, still with the lamp, went with them to the porch. One man struck him on his forehead and shot the lamp out of his hand. The bullet hole is still there in the window.

"We feel like that was one of big miracles of the revolution," she said. Later that night that same band of men burned another home and the family escaped only in their bed clothing and blankets, crawling in a ditch to the Calls' home.

Another incident occurred when a group of "red flagger" rebels came to town for revenge, claiming someone in the colonies had informed their opponents of their whereabouts, and because of this, one of their men had been killed. They accused Bishop Call of being the informant.

"So they came and got Father and the men, took him up to the Farnsworth and Romney store where he worked."

Although Bishop Call denied their accusations, the men said, "We are going to take you out and kill you." "So they took him home, to our farm, and said, `Get you a mount and come with us,' " said Sister Alder. "They didn't let Father out of their sight. The boys saddled up a little donkey that we had. We prepared some food for him, and they led him up to Casas Grandes, the old town, about eight miles away. He was held as a prisoner under guard with another American they had. They released the other American, and Father said he felt so all alone. Senor Galindo, a friend of ours in the old town, came and tried to plead his cause and get them to release him. They wouldn't do it. At night, Senor Galindo brought him some food to eat.

"The soldiers said, `If he tries to escape, kill him. Shoot him. Shoot him dead.' "

She said some guards were drinking, which added to his fear and to the miserable conditions.

"One day they woke him up early and said: `We are taking you out to kill you.'

They left in the darkness. On the way, they found a beef, they took anybody's beef - so they killed it and ate the beef for breakfast. They traveled a little farther in the direction of the village of Mata Ortiz, near an old hacienda, and said, "We are going to kill you now.'

They stood him against a tree and asked if he wanted a blindfold. He said, `You've had your way with the whole thing. Go ahead and do as you please.' " They stood six men with guns pointed at him and counted: `one, two. . . .

"He just stood there," said Sister Alder. "He thought he was gone. Then he said he remembered promises that Elder Anthony W. Ivins promised, that if they lived worthily, they would receive all manner of evil, but no one would have the power to take their lives. Father thought, `I have not lived worthily, that is the reason I am going to die. I do have faith, but it looks like it is not going to be."

Then, continued Sister Alder, the leader asked him what he would do to save his life, and they began to bargain for money. They wanted 1,000 pesos, but Father said, `We don't have any money. You have taken all our money.' He offered to try to raise 200 pesos if they would let him go to Colonia Juarez."

The men went with him to Colonia Juarez. Bishop Call went to Pres. Joseph C. Bentley's home, who had been his partner in business. Pres. Bentley and another man went from door to door and raised 200 pesos. They gave it to the men, who took it, shook hands with them, and left.

Bishop Call then rode his little donkey the 20 miles over the hills to Colonia Dublan. He was so exhausted he stayed in bed for two days. He never learned who had contributed the pesos that bought his freedom.

"Were we ever glad to see him!" Sister Call said. "We had prayed several times a day, and kept a prayer in our hearts all the time."