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.