" I Told You He Would Know Me"
A few years ago, as Christmas drew near, I found myself confronted with a very full schedule. The streets were crowded, my calendar was crowded, and my mind was crowded. There was so much to do and so little time. An invitation to give a brief Christmas message to the residence of a nursing home nearby was one activity I could check off rather quickly and then move to the next appointment.
As I rushed past the receptionist at the nursing home door, I was ushered into a large room-where I suddenly stopped. Life was moving at a different pace here, if it was moving at all. There were wheelchairs, bent shoulders, gray hair, tired eye's and the impression of so little going on. Though the room was warm, many of the elderly had knitted shawls draped over rounded shoulders and woolly slippers covering tired feet.
Following my message, one of the visitors, the granddaughter of one of the residents, asked if I had time to visit her grandmother in her own private room for just a few moments. She commented, "She thinks she knows you," indicating perhaps that her grandmother's mind might also be tired. I agreed that I could spare a few minutes, and I followed the younger woman as she helped her elderly grandmother shuffle down the narrow hall to her room. When she reached her bedside, this dear elderly woman slowly turned around, let go of her granddaughter's arm, and sat on her bed. Then she raised her head so that I could look into her face. My eye's caught hers. "Sister Myrtle Dudley!" I exclaimed. "You were my Primary teacher!"
Her wrinkled mouth formed a smile as she pulled on her granddaughter's jacket and said, "See I told you she would know me."
I continued: "I remember when you used to lead the singing. You wore a wine-colored dress with big sleeves that waved back and forth as you taught us the songs."
Again she pulled on her granddaughter's jacket. "I told you she would know me."
"Yes," I said, "and you made carrot juice for my mother when she was sick."
Then she asked, "Did you come all the way from Canada just to see me?"
"Oh Sister Dudley," I said, "I have come a long way. It has been over forty years."
She reached out her arms and drew me close. I felt like a child once again, back in Primary, in the arms of my teacher who loved me. Then she whispered in my ear "I knew you would know me."
There in the arms of my Primary teacher the world stood still for a moment. The busy streets forgotten. The crowded calendar was no longer pressing on my mind. The spirit of Christmas filled my soul. A small miracle taking place, not because of what I brought but because of what I received.
After a time, I reluctantly left the presence of my Primary teacher and walked slowly back to my car. I sat there pondering while the snowflakes fell gently on the windshield. It was the season of celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior. It was he who asked us to love one another and to serve one another. He said, "Inasmuch as we have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me" (Matthew 25:40)
Yes, I thought, I knew Sister Dudley because she had served me, and she knew me because she had served me. Then the vision cleared before my eyes. We will know Him when we serve Him, and he will know us when we serve Him. And I asked myself, Can I one day say with the same confidence with which Sister Dudley spoke, "I told you He would know me"?
Let us all keep in mind an anticipation of that glorious day when we will be with our Heavenly Father again. The words of President George Q. Cannon help us envision that event: "We existed with Him in the family relationship as His children...when we see our Father in heaven we shall know him; and the recollection that we were once with Him and that He was our Father will come back to us, and we will fall upon His neck, and He will fall upon us, and we will kiss each other. We will know our Mother also.
One day when we leave this stage of life, I am confident that, having done our part, we will receive an embrace and experience the greatest commendation we could ever hope for from the only one who really matters. "You played your part so very, very well," I believe we will hear our Father and Mother say. "My child, I have you home again." Then we will hear not with our ears but with our spirits, the echoing applause of multitudes of heavenly hosts, our brothers and our sisters, rejoicing in our safe return to have glory upon our heads forever and ever.
A few years ago, as Christmas drew near, I found myself confronted with a very full schedule. The streets were crowded, my calendar was crowded, and my mind was crowded. There was so much to do and so little time. An invitation to give a brief Christmas message to the residence of a nursing home nearby was one activity I could check off rather quickly and then move to the next appointment.
As I rushed past the receptionist at the nursing home door, I was ushered into a large room-where I suddenly stopped. Life was moving at a different pace here, if it was moving at all. There were wheelchairs, bent shoulders, gray hair, tired eye's and the impression of so little going on. Though the room was warm, many of the elderly had knitted shawls draped over rounded shoulders and woolly slippers covering tired feet.
Following my message, one of the visitors, the granddaughter of one of the residents, asked if I had time to visit her grandmother in her own private room for just a few moments. She commented, "She thinks she knows you," indicating perhaps that her grandmother's mind might also be tired. I agreed that I could spare a few minutes, and I followed the younger woman as she helped her elderly grandmother shuffle down the narrow hall to her room. When she reached her bedside, this dear elderly woman slowly turned around, let go of her granddaughter's arm, and sat on her bed. Then she raised her head so that I could look into her face. My eye's caught hers. "Sister Myrtle Dudley!" I exclaimed. "You were my Primary teacher!"
Her wrinkled mouth formed a smile as she pulled on her granddaughter's jacket and said, "See I told you she would know me."
I continued: "I remember when you used to lead the singing. You wore a wine-colored dress with big sleeves that waved back and forth as you taught us the songs."
Again she pulled on her granddaughter's jacket. "I told you she would know me."
"Yes," I said, "and you made carrot juice for my mother when she was sick."
Then she asked, "Did you come all the way from Canada just to see me?"
"Oh Sister Dudley," I said, "I have come a long way. It has been over forty years."
She reached out her arms and drew me close. I felt like a child once again, back in Primary, in the arms of my teacher who loved me. Then she whispered in my ear "I knew you would know me."
There in the arms of my Primary teacher the world stood still for a moment. The busy streets forgotten. The crowded calendar was no longer pressing on my mind. The spirit of Christmas filled my soul. A small miracle taking place, not because of what I brought but because of what I received.
After a time, I reluctantly left the presence of my Primary teacher and walked slowly back to my car. I sat there pondering while the snowflakes fell gently on the windshield. It was the season of celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior. It was he who asked us to love one another and to serve one another. He said, "Inasmuch as we have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me" (Matthew 25:40)
Yes, I thought, I knew Sister Dudley because she had served me, and she knew me because she had served me. Then the vision cleared before my eyes. We will know Him when we serve Him, and he will know us when we serve Him. And I asked myself, Can I one day say with the same confidence with which Sister Dudley spoke, "I told you He would know me"?
Let us all keep in mind an anticipation of that glorious day when we will be with our Heavenly Father again. The words of President George Q. Cannon help us envision that event: "We existed with Him in the family relationship as His children...when we see our Father in heaven we shall know him; and the recollection that we were once with Him and that He was our Father will come back to us, and we will fall upon His neck, and He will fall upon us, and we will kiss each other. We will know our Mother also.
One day when we leave this stage of life, I am confident that, having done our part, we will receive an embrace and experience the greatest commendation we could ever hope for from the only one who really matters. "You played your part so very, very well," I believe we will hear our Father and Mother say. "My child, I have you home again." Then we will hear not with our ears but with our spirits, the echoing applause of multitudes of heavenly hosts, our brothers and our sisters, rejoicing in our safe return to have glory upon our heads forever and ever.
I currently serve in Primary and sometimes not with the best attitude that I could have. I recently began teaching the children all the different songs during our singing time. we began this season by learning "The Nativity Song" it has quickly become one of the favorite songs in our Primary. We sang this song in Sacrament a few weeks ago at the very end of November. This is a growing experience for me as I am still trying to learn how to conduct music, it is not as easy as it looks, even with all my music experience. I know this has been given to me to help me grow some how and my attitude and mind frame has definitely grown to be much more positive. Being in Primary has it's challenges but it certainly has it rewards. I hope someday a child will remember me and beam with joy in that memory. I do not remember my Primary teacher's not one of them. However I do remember my Young Women leaders and the amazing ladies they were to me and the example they set for me. I do all that I can to honor them by doing my best to be the one to set the example and to lead with righteousness. It is my hope that I will touch another through my service and my testimony. One day I hope to hear those words from my Heavenly Father that I strive for "Well done my faithful servant." I think the attitude in how we serve will have something to do with that, more so than the action.
1 comment:
Sherry,
I love the story! Thanks for putting it on your blog. Blogs are my link to reality here.
Have a wonderful Christmas with your family!
Sarah
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