When I was a freshman in college, two cousins were assigned to be my visiting teachers. They were dear girls, and they would set appointments well in advance so that I knew when they were coming. They would bring me treats, leave me notes, all the things every good visiting teacher would do. And I would avoid them. Like the plague. I was known in those days to fake sleeping just so I wouldn’t have to talk to them. Little did I know three years later one of them would serve in the same zone as myself in Chile and we became close friends.
I have a confession to make. I don’t like being home/visit taught. (GASP!) I know. Its not that I don’t like my Home/Visiting teachers, its not that I don’t want the spiritual thought. I think really the thing that drives me bonkers is all of that attention, awkwardly placed on me, for an undetermined amount of time. This might be a shock to you. Do I love attention? Of course. But that much undivided attention from two of my male/female friends for somewhere between 15 minutes and an hour and a half is always so uncomfortable for me.
On Sunday, my home teachers had set up an appointment to come by that evening and teach myself and my roommate. I didn’t remember this until I was on my way out the door to a mixer and I knew I wasn’t going to be back until late that evening. OOPS! I left a message with my roommate to tell them I was sorry and that they could count me as visited because it was my fault I wasn’t there. Imagine my surprise last night when at FHE they asked if they could come over right afterwards to teach me. I had so much to do, but I said yes.
So in walk Jake and Gavin, my wonderful, amazing home teachers. They sit down on the couch, and instead of heading right into the lesson, they ask me how I have been. I say good. Short. Quick. Jake pries, asking what has been going on at school. We start to chat about my kids, student teaching, education, you name it. Each time I try to be as brief as possible and yet they seem so interested and before I know it I am talking to them about how my mentor teacher drives me crazy and how the internet hasn’t worked at our school for three days. They give me ideas for things I could try, commend me for things they think I’m doing right and this whole time, not once did they look at their watches.
Then comes the lesson, short, sweet, read the Book of Mormon. Then they each take turns bearing me their testimonies. I am challenged to read it more often. And then a funny thing happens. Jake opens his mouth and starts telling me things that I really needed to hear about decisions I am making in my life, what I’m trying to do and accomplish. He promises me that Heavenly Father will bless me as I strive to put him first in my life. He asks me if I have enough food to eat, how my cupboards are looking. I say fine. He asks if I am having any fun, if I am balancing school and social. I laugh and say I’m doing my best. And then with a prayer they are gone.
I can’t even describe how really touching that whole event was for me. I am grateful for home teachers who care enough to make more than the minimum effort.
Moral of the story: Don’t fake naps.