Two words: VISITING TEACHING
Two words that will get me moving on the last days of the month. When I was 19, and in a ward with a bunch of "old ladies" over 40, those two words meant doing a job but with nice people. The more I worked at that job, the more I enjoyed it. And then one Sunday morning, hearing those two words sent a sick feeling through my body. I added two of my own words....
VISITING TEACHING...YOU FAILED.
I lived in the apartment directly above her, and I had been assigned to visit her. I had tried to set up a time to see her but she usually cancelled or wasn't home. I left her plates of goodies, and sometimes, a note. I would smile and say hello if I saw her but she never really responded. I was a young mother of 3 little ones who spent lots of time running around our small apartment. I wondered if maybe she was unhappy with the constant noise above her, coming from my kids.
After a few months I gave up trying. I told myself we were very different and most likely had nothing in common anyway. I was married, she was living with her boyfriend. I went to church all the time, I had never seen her there. She was super thin, I was carrying around extra pounds from my last pregnancy. She didn't talk to people in our building, I talked to everyone. She and I were very different and I wondered why I had to be this assigned to visit a girl. Surely someone else could have better luck than me!
It had been about 6 months since my first attempt to visit my down stairs neighbor and as stood in my tiny bathroom getting ready for church, I heard a familiar, frightening sound. Maybe I had heard wrong. I turned off the blow dryer and listened. This time the sounds coming up through the air vent on the floor were loud and clear. Glass was breaking & a man was yelling. I heard bangs and thuds and then I heard a woman. That young woman (the one I had given up on), was screaming for her life.
I ran out of the bathroom and out the front door as fast as I could, yelling for Brian to call the police. I pounded on her door, rang the doorbell over and over until the police arrived. The boyfriend was taken away by one police officer while the other two officers talked to the victim. I stood in the doorway. She looked up from the sofa she was sitting on and our eyes met. She had blood on her face, marks on her neck, and yet she smiled at me and mouthed "Thank you". Oh, the power of two simple words. I smiled back as tears ran down my face.
I realized I had failed her. I’ll never forget the feelings of regret and shame. I could have helped her if only by listening, and letting her know I understood what it was like to be hurt. I wish I would have, but I didn’t.
“Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable."
As it turned out, she and I became good friends and I realized she and I had a great many things in common. She had felt alone, embarrassed, judged and scared. She needed someone who knew what she was feeling. She needed support. She needed a friend, someone she could trust and confide in. She needed a visiting teacher.
When I look back at my life, I can think of many times I wish I would have said or done something differently. But I can honestly say that if given the chance, it is the things I didn’t do, I wish I could change.
This morning I had breakfast with some wonderful women I have been blessed enough to know through visiting teaching.
We laughed, ate crepes and talked for about two hours and I left feeling genuine friendship, love and support from ladies who know that visiting teaching is so much more than leaving a note on the door. We call ourselves SISTERS, not acquaintances.
Don't do what I did. Don't give up! Learn to love it. What's the worst that can happen? Visiting Teaching is not a job to be done, it is a privilege and an opportunity to be the tool which our Heavenly Father uses to bless our fellow sisters. I will never fail him, or my sisters again.
Visiting Teaching?
Two words: DO IT!
Two words: VISITING TEACHING
Two words that will get me moving on the last days of the month. When I was 19, and in a ward with a bunch of "old ladies" over 40, those two words meant doing a job but with nice people. The more I worked at that job, the more I enjoyed it. And then one Sunday morning, hearing those two words sent a sick feeling through my body. I added two of my own words....
VISITING TEACHING...YOU FAILED.
I lived in the apartment directly above her, and I had been assigned to visit her. I had tried to set up a time to see her but she usually cancelled or wasn't home. I left her plates of goodies, and sometimes, a note. I would smile and say hello if I saw her but she never really responded. I was a young mother of 3 little ones who spent lots of time running around our small apartment. I wondered if maybe she was unhappy with the constant noise above her, coming from my kids.
After a few months I gave up trying. I told myself we were very different and most likely had nothing in common anyway. I was married, she was living with her boyfriend. I went to church all the time, I had never seen her there. She was super thin, I was carrying around extra pounds from my last pregnancy. She didn't talk to people in our building, I talked to everyone. She and I were very different and I wondered why I had to be this assigned to visit a girl. Surely someone else could have better luck than me!
It had been about 6 months since my first attempt to visit my down stairs neighbor and as stood in my tiny bathroom getting ready for church, I heard a familiar, frightening sound. Maybe I had heard wrong. I turned off the blow dryer and listened. This time the sounds coming up through the air vent on the floor were loud and clear. Glass was breaking & a man was yelling. I heard bangs and thuds and then I heard a woman. That young woman (the one I had given up on), was screaming for her life.
I ran out of the bathroom and out the front door as fast as I could, yelling for Brian to call the police. I pounded on her door, rang the doorbell over and over until the police arrived. The boyfriend was taken away by one police officer while the other two officers talked to the victim. I stood in the doorway. She looked up from the sofa she was sitting on and our eyes met. She had blood on her face, marks on her neck, and yet she smiled at me and mouthed "Thank you". Oh, the power of two simple words. I smiled back as tears ran down my face.
I realized I had failed her. I’ll never forget the feelings of regret and shame. I could have helped her if only by listening, and letting her know I understood what it was like to be hurt. I wish I would have, but I didn’t.
“Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable."
As it turned out, she and I became good friends and I realized she and I had a great many things in common. She had felt alone, embarrassed, judged and scared. She needed someone who knew what she was feeling. She needed support. She needed a friend, someone she could trust and confide in. She needed a visiting teacher.
When I look back at my life, I can think of many times I wish I would have said or done something differently. But I can honestly say that if given the chance, it is the things I didn’t do, I wish I could change.
This morning I had breakfast with some wonderful women I have been blessed enough to know through visiting teaching.
We laughed, ate crepes and talked for about two hours and I left feeling genuine friendship, love and support from ladies who know that visiting teaching is so much more than leaving a note on the door. We call ourselves SISTERS, not acquaintances.
Don't do what I did. Don't give up! Learn to love it. What's the worst that can happen? Visiting Teaching is not a job to be done, it is a privilege and an opportunity to be the tool which our Heavenly Father uses to bless our fellow sisters. I will never fail him, or my sisters again.
Visiting Teaching?
Two words: DO IT!
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