A few weeks ago I was getting ready to take a bath. It was fairly late and I was tired. I went to my night stand to grab my book (Breaking Dawn) and instead I noticed last months Ensign sitting there. I had read and reread this issue several times while just lying in bed, but I usually just flip through and skim read, only paying close attention to the articles that seem to relate to me. I decided that because I was already tired I would just read the Ensign again, Yes...I like to read in the tub. As I was flipping through looking for articles that I had not read I stopped on one about visiting teaching. I had read a little of this article but not the entire thing so I started reading. About half way through, I read this....
Taking Visiting Teaching Seriously
I have heard people say that visiting teaching is a pointless inconvenience, that life is just too busy and that there are more important things to do. I used to think that way too, until Heavenly Father showed me otherwise.
When I was newly married and had a one-year-old child, two wonderful women, Marlo and Heather, were my visiting teachers. Marlo was a great example to me of being a patient, kind, and loving mother. Heather was a little bit more of a mystery. She had been married for a few years. She and her husband had lost their son some time before. When she shared with me her experience of losing a child, I remember looking at my own son and praying that heartache like that would never touch my life.
A year later we moved to a different city, and I lost touch with my visiting teachers. Seven years after that, life seemed perfect. My husband and I had three beautiful children and were expecting a fourth. We were anxious to welcome another son to our family.
When it came time to go to the hospital, my husband and I smiled and laughed the whole way. The day was bright and sunny and seemed to reflect our own happiness.
That continued even at the hospital, where we could see the angel Moroni atop the Mount Timpanogos temple through the window. A nurse came in to do some routine checks. She put the heart monitor around my stomach and then turned pale. My doctor quickly arrived, did an ultrasound, and then looked up and quietly told us that our baby had died.
My husband and I were shocked—and devastated. With tears streaming down my face, I delivered our beautiful son. It’s impossible to describe the feelings you have when the doctor gently places your baby in your arms and you know that this is the last time you will hold him. I had never felt such an aching pain. I could barely breathe, my heart was shattered so completely.
The Relief Society president from my ward arrived at the hospital a short time later, but I sent her away. As kind and good as she was, at that time I did not know her. I’m a very private person and couldn’t let a virtual stranger inside my grief and pain.
And then there was a quiet knock at the door. We looked up to see my former visiting teacher, Heather, walk into the room. I think we were both surprised to see each other. She explained that she worked at the hospital as a grief counselor, helping people who lose loved ones.
She helped my husband and me bathe our son and dress him. She took pictures of him so that we would never forget his beautiful face. My favorite one is of our hands holding his. She cast molds of his hands and feet. Those molds are treasures to me.
I am grateful for Heather’s Christlike service at a time when I needed somebody so much. Even more important, I am grateful to Heavenly Father for bringing me someone whom I felt I could let in, someone who could help me shoulder my pain for just a little while.
I wonder what would have happened if Heather and Marlo hadn’t done their visiting teaching, if they had been too busy or had chosen to do other things instead. I’m so grateful they took their calling seriously. Because they did, I was able to make it through the most painful hours of my life with a comforting shoulder to lean on.
Shannon F. Guymon, Utah
That is our story almost exactly. I didn't deliver at American Fork Hospital over looking Mount Timpanogos but I delivered at UVRMC in Provo. I too had visitors arrive at the hospital to help comfort me and I turned them away. Heather was not a previous visiting teacher to me but she too was there for me to lean on. She cast molds and took pictures of my sweet baby boy. I have thought of Heather a lot since that day and have always wanted to thank her for what she did for me and my family that night. Thanks Heather!
Thursday Dec. 11, 2008 Ethan Mac, a 2nd grader, was running track with his class at the local Elementary School. Witnesses say that a 5th grader picked up a rock and threw it. The rock hurled towards the track where several boys and girls were. Suddenly Ethan dropped to the ground. The rock hit Ethan just under his right eye. His friends said he was brave and didn't cry, very much. The 5th grader did feel bad and apologized. By the time Ethan got home his eye had already bruised. Ethan's mother was suprised at how over the next 24 hours his bruise continued to get worse. She is also worried that he will still have a black eye for Christmas. Let this be a lesson for all kids. Throwing rocks is never a good idea!
