Another Sweet Experience at the Care Center

Everyone should get to hang out with perfect people.  A lot, if possible.

A little is good, too.

Sunday I got to play the piano at our Care Center branch again.  The speaker in sacrament meeting was the mother of one of the residents.  She and her husband have other, older children.  When their youngest was born, she came very prematurely, and the doctors told them that her development would be somewhat slower that other children.  Therefore, the mother didn't think much of it when the baby wasn't doing the things that other "normal" kids did.

It was not until their daughter was 9 months old, they were living in a distant state, serving as mission president and matron, and the baby got ill that they learned that she was "not normal."  I tried to imagine what it must have been like for this mother, the Mission Mom, living far away from home and extended family, to learn that her adorable and adored baby girl was "not normal."  I wondered how many tears and prayers and discussions she and her husband had together, considering what was the best way to care for their daughter and what it would mean for them to have the care of this child through the remainder of their lives and what aspirations and dreams they would never realize for her.

When Jesus Christ visited the people of the Americas, following his Resurrection, He taught and blessed and visited with them--one by one.  He bade them good-bye.  And then--sensing that they did not want him to leave--He said:

"Have ye any that are sick among you?  Bring them hither.  Have ye any that are lame, or blind, or halt, or maimed, or leprous, or that are withered, or that are deaf, or that are afflicted in any manner?  Bring them hither and I will heal them, for I have compassion upon you; my bowels are filled with mercy."

Vicki was so perfect in her pre-mortal life that she now gets to live in mortality completely free from Satan's influence.  Her parents understand that.  So if Jesus came, would they take their daughter to Him and ask Him to heal her?  And what would He say?  In the eternal perspective, Vicki needs no healing.  If He healed her mortal mind and body, would she then be accountable, and would she know how to use her agency?  Would that truly heal that girl?

The people in the Americas, healed at His hand, knelt before the risen Lord and kissed his feet and bathed them with their tears.

"And it came to pass that he commanded that their little children should be brought.  So they brought their little children and set them down upon the ground round about him, and Jesus stood in the midst; and the multitude gave way till they had all been brought unto him...and he took their little children, one by one, and blessed them, and prayed unto the Father for them."

There is more to this beautiful story, but what struck me was that even if a parent had not taken a child like Vicki to be healed of the Savior, they could certainly have taken her--though in an adult's body--to Him when He gathered the children.  And either way, she would have been blessed at His hands.

It is sweet to be taught of the Holy Ghost.  It is blessed to know the Son of God.  I felt God's love on Sunday, along with profound gratitude.

Sweet Lessons Learned

Yesterday I had the wonderful opportunity to play the piano in the care center branch of our stake. The "kids" who are residents there are severely physically and mentally challenged, and they are angels. They are also noisy; some are slobbery; many are smelly. But they are all sweet.

One of them, who cannot speak clearly, stood up to share his testimony. He reached out his hand for me to help him. The branch presidency all looked a little panicked, as he pushed them away and continued to reach for me. I stood to help him, and I kept my hand on his back the whole time. I said his testimony for him while he beamed at me and at his friends. It was a tender experience for me, and it touched me deeply. President Harmon told me later that this man never connects with the women at the care center, but he was quite adamant that I help him.

Sweet lesson learned: You never know when you might be "the one" that someone needs. And you usually don't get a lot of warning.

Another resident put her arm around me while I was still playing the piano and told me that I played beautifully. I thanked her and asked if she ever played the piano. She responded, "Oh, no, but I love to listen to it."

Sweet lesson learned: Wouldn't it be wonderful if we were all genuinely loving to everyone who serves us, even if we know that a particular talent may never be ours in this life?

Another young man--who is quite mentally challenged himself, but who lives in another ward in our stake--has been called to help with the sacrament at the branch. He humbly began the sacrament prayer, and got as far as "we ask Thee in the name" when he made a mistake. There was not even a hesitation from him as he began the prayer again and finished it perfectly.

Sweet lesson learned: We should be humble enough to do the right thing, the right way, right away, just because it's right. And not feel humiliated or embarrassed.

The same sweet young man bore his testimony, and then encouraged another man to do the same. He then took the microphone to a man who cannot speak clearly (but he "sings" every song!). He said, "You wanna bear your testimony, Derek?" Derek made a few sounds and smiled up at Robert who exclaimed, "Good job, Derek! You did it!"

Sweet lesson learned: Sometimes people only need someone's encouragement to prove that they can do something. And we should be able, willing, available, and capable of giving them the acceptance they need.

Later I went to our ward, where I was reminded of these lessons again. But I think we are less tolerant of people who are functioning "normally" (whatever that means). We need to be tolerant, loving, accepting, encouraging, willing, and genuine with EVERYONE.

It's hard sometimes.

If you need a sweet reminder, I can give you directions to the West Jordan Care Center.