Monday’s Gift
As I reviewed my Monday morning chore list, the following words dropped into my mind– “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress.”1 Immediately, my elderly friend came to mind. She lived a lonely existence and needed someone to visit her—someone like me.
I tried to ignore the prompting. After all, I had already planned out my morning. And driving across town to encourage an elderly widow wasn’t on my list. But the words “look after widows in their distress” persisted.
While throwing a load of laundry in the washer, I began to think about how I really wanted a religion that God accepted. But once more the demands of the morning won my attention, and I headed for my computer to check my email.
As I sat down at my desk, again the words “look after widows” vied for my attention. Finally, I realized that God’s Spirit was whispering. Perhaps God had a different assignment for me that day. So I grabbed my purse and car keys and headed out the door.
When I got to the nursing home, I spied my friend in the dining room, attending a group session. The receptionist told me that I could interrupt the class to get my friend. So I did. And I wheeled her to her room.
After settling in her room, my friend sighed and smiled. She told me how glad she was to see me. She then explained that the group class had been playing some silly guessing game about animals.
Smiling, I said, “Looks like I rescued you.”
She chuckled. “Thank you so much.”
Later when my sons came home from school, I told them about my morning at a nursing home. I shared how my elderly friend cried, feeling lonely and discouraged as she faced several difficult hurdles. After listing some of her struggles, I added, “And her hospital bed is broken and her pillow is lumpy.”
Learning to Put Others First
Listening intently, Nate, my11-year-old, exclaimed, “Mom, your friend can have my pillow. I have two. And I only need one.” Then he bounded out the door to play.
As I rotated the load of laundry, I checked another chore off my list. But then it hit me. If I had ignored the inner tug earlier that morning, I would have missed Monday’s gift: A young boy’s generous heart.
