Day 2: A True Friend from Virginia

I received this story in my email yes­ter­day, from a woman in Vir­ginia who learned the mean­ing of the word “friend.” She asked that her name be withheld.

I have felt inspired to share the story of a woman that I visit taught about ten years ago. It was the year that I learned what it meant to serve with the pure love of Christ.

I was a young mother, one tod­dler. My com­pan­ion was preg­nant with her first child. And we were asked to visit teach this sis­ter who was 13 years older, the Pri­mary pres­i­dent, a breast can­cer sur­vivor, mother of 6 chil­dren, etc. I was a bit ner­vous to visit her, because we seemed worlds apart.

But we went and this sis­ter was so very kind to us. She was a great exam­ple of moth­er­hood and love, and she taught us how to serve her. She had a sur­prise 7th preg­nancy, and one day when I was try­ing to sched­ule vis­it­ing teach­ing visit, she said, “Do you know what would really help me? My father is com­ing to visit and my kids have been rub­bing their hands all over the stair­well, and it’s hard for me to wash the walls because of my preg­nancy.” That was the first time that I really under­stood that vis­it­ing teach­ing is so much more than vis­it­ing once a month. And when she called me one day and asked if I could take her to the doc­tor, because she was in so much pain she couldn’t drive, I grabbed my daugh­ter and drove to her house, and real­ized that this is why I was her vis­it­ing teacher. So that I could help her right now. Her can­cer had come back–lumbar, spleen, and kid­ney. Her baby wasn’t due for 2 more months, so they gave her steroids so the lungs could develop, then induced her so that they could start chemotherapy.

In the months that fol­lowed, I was part of the sacred expe­ri­ence of serv­ing that fam­ily. Of course there was babysit­ting and meals–half of the ward was involved, but what touched my heart the most was the lit­tle acts of ser­vice as so many ward mem­bers used their tal­ents to help bring this suf­fer­ing fam­ily joy. One sis­ter would keep the lit­tle girls overnight and give them pedi­cures, and she would also go over every Sun­day morn­ing to do their hair before church. Another sis­ter loved to chat, so she would go over and visit reg­u­larly. Oth­ers would come and clean. The Young Men made sure that the 12-year-old son got out and had fun like a nor­mal teenage boy every once in awhile. The High Priests would take the won­der­ful hus­band out to give him a break. A blind sis­ter in the ward was dis­traught because she could not babysit or cook, but she was a masseuse, and some­one else would give her a ride, and she would mas­sage this sister’s feet and hands and bring her great relief from pain and swelling.

It was like being in Zion, where we were all knit together in unity, of one heart, because all of us had room for the Sav­ior. All of us were seek­ing how to help the best. All of us felt the pure love of Christ, felt hon­ored that we could serve this fam­ily. From these won­der­ful peo­ple, I gained inspi­ra­tion. I babysat her chil­dren once a week. I brought her her favorite color roses when mine were in bloom. I brought her fun movies to watch. I helped her to write her life his­tory and per­sonal let­ters to her seven children.

And when I gave the eulogy at her funeral, there was a word next to my name that made all time and effort seem noth­ing. The word was, Friend. There is no greater joy than know­ing that you have helped the Sav­ior to serve some­one, to love some­one, to help be His hands for a time.

Thanks for your beau­ti­ful story–an inspi­ra­tion to all of us.