I had the chance to visit Florida recently. I stayed at the same hotel where Julie and I stayed while looking for a house. The hotel had not changed much. It had been redecorated and the fitness room upgraded. However, the beach was still the same, as well as the pool, the parking lot, the façade and core structure, and the valets who opened the doors to the lobby.
Inspired by President Monson’s example, I made the opportunity to visit two older sisters that I had home taught when we lived in Florida. Much there had not changed either. The outside of Sister Whittle’s house still appeared as though her husband John was still taking care of the plants and making sure that everything was neat, yet he has been gone now over six months. Sister Roger’s house had some new shutters since I had last seen it over 8 years ago, but still was hard to find in the rows of similar cement block houses in its dead end neighborhood in Port Salerno.
I thought back to when we moved in and I was assigned to home teach these two sisters.
When we moved from Utah to Florida, we felt that we were moving into the “mission field” and were excited to see what changes that would bring to our church life. Surprisingly, and also comforting, much was the same. We met as a ward in a very nice stake center with a wood basketball court where the young men, and then the older young men gathered to play on Wednesday nights. The ward was fully staffed, of moderate size, with some newly moved in families and a mix of older and younger Florida “natives”.
I was assigned to home teach a mix of families. Among those were Sister Whittle and Sister Rogers. These two sisters were the only members in part member families. At first I visited with some hope that their husbands would show some interest, but I was soon disabused of that notion. John Whittle was gruff and crusty. He tolerated his wife’s attendance; often driving her to church and waiting for her, but firmly rebuffed any teaching of the gospel. At least he sat in when I came to visit. Sister Roger’s husband did not come into the room when I visited and did not turn down the TV. He wasn’t hostile; I did visit with him a little before or after a visit, just to say hi, but he wasn’t supportive of his wife’s interest in the church. These two were not ripe fruit to be harvested.
But I went home teaching anyway, the last Sunday of the month, regularly. I would take one of my sons, we would have a message, we would visit and listen. Then we would go home, and return the following month.
Sister Whittle had trials. She had a daughter who had trouble finding her way in life. This daughter would occasionally come home to live, then go out on her own again. Various family members passed away. Sister Whittle had problems with her health. But her biggest trial was that she was going blind. She had macular degeneration and the question was not whether she would lose her eyesight, but when.
So she asked me for a blessing. She had not had a regular home teacher before, and she felt, after I had visited her a few months, that I should give her a blessing to cure her blindness. I asked for some time to prepare.
I studied macular degeneration. I learned that it was irreversible, a physical condition that impacts the blood supply to the retina. I fasted and prayed to understand how I should bless her. What was the Lord’s will? I hoped for and desired a miracle. I knew the Lord could grant one, but doubted my faith and worthiness.
I avoided giving a blessing for a while. Sister Whittle finally cornered me and demanded the blessing. So I collected a fellow Melchizedek priesthood holder and gave her the desired blessing.
Summoning all the spirit I had, I laid my hands upon her head and gave her a blessing. What came out was not so much a blessing of healing, but more a blessing of comfort. I don’t remember the words, certainly at this time. However, Sister Whittle never failed to remind me of a key phrase that was included in the blessing. A phrase that said that she would see what the Lord wanted her to see and what she needed to see.
She held on to those words. Even at this recent visit, she reminded me of them, and demonstrated how, with her John now departed, she could read her bills and write the checks with a magnifying glass.
She also reminded me of her husband joining the church and her and him being sealed in the temple. I don’t think I had much to do with him joining; I was just the home teacher when it happened. I credit his joining the church to his wonderful faithful wife and to a ward mission president who had been the stake president and knew how to challenge the dry portion of part member families to get wet. However, Sister Whittle insisted I played a role. I’m just glad that I didn’t miss too many of my end of month visits.
With Sister Rogers, the story was different but similar. She had terribly tough trials as well. Her son Pete developed adult muscular dystrophy, was divorced, and forced to come back home. He brought his two children. The small home became even smaller. Nothing was desired or required of the church. I just visited and home taught Sister Rogers. None of the others would listen. Not her husband, not her son Pete, or her very energetic grandchildren. My son and I would sit at the small kitchen table, with the television on in the converted garage on one side and the half-naked children playing in the cushions of the front room on the other side, present a lesson, and listen to Sister Rogers.
Yet somehow, her son Pete and his children joined the church. Sister Rogers insisted that if I had stayed, her husband would have joined as well. But I never taught a lesson, never challenged them to do anything, just visited and invited them to come to church. Their joining the church was all Sister Rogers. The welcome and the support of the ward helped. Now her grandson, Cody, is receiving his Eagle Scout award and is planning on his mission.
My recent visit has caused me to reflect on those two fine sisters. When I started home teaching them, I didn’t see any future for them. But the Lord did. He had a plan. He just needed me to go to their homes. Regularly.
I’m glad that I did.
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