11.01.2009

Jean

She was wonderful to visit...always upbeat, cheerful, positive, even though she was now almost totally home-bound.

We had been in the same ward; had two boys the same ages. We saw each other at church, Scout meetings, ward activities. I enjoyed her friendship.

Then, even though neither of us moved, we were put in different wards and different stakes. Our lives went on. Our boys grew up..we had grandchildren. I rarely saw her.

A friend from her neighborhood told me she was homebound. I started going to see her. We talked about books, our children, our grandchildren, her husband - who had died much too young.

Sometimes I'd drive over during my 29 minute lunch break from school - not often - but sometimes. I'd take her a book and say, "See if you like this book." Then we'd talk about it.

I always left uplifted, encouraged, happy, brightened by Jean.

I retired. Winter set in. In Idaho winters, I turn into a different person. I hibernate. I went only to church, to the grocery store about every two weeks.

The little voice would tell me to "visit Jean."

"I will," I said, "when the ice melts, when the weather is warmer, when I don't have to drive on the icey roads, when spring comes."

We went away for the winter: we loved the sights, sounds, scenery of a warmer climate.

Returning in the spring, I thought of Jean, mentioned her one day to a friend.

"Didn't you know? She died."

And, then I remembered - the voice.

"I MUST do better," I say to myself. "I must listen to the VOICE."

Because, I don't like remembering that I didn't visit Jean.

1 comment:

Lauralee said...

Oh how I can relate to this post. Over the years I always wanted to make contact with my 4th grade art teacher, Miss Natalie A. Leaf. I wanted to tell her how much she influenced my life and fostered my (and my children's) love and appreciation of art. When I finally got around to it in 1998, I found she had died in 1989.

Now I waste no time. I repent immediately, I contact those I think about daily, I say thank you at the time, I write notes of gratitude for small deeds. I don't miss a beat any longer, I learned my lesson.

It's so HARD....

 for me to go to church and be filled with the spirit and come home and see something that my kids or grandkids have posted on social media....