Angelic Whirlwind

Today Susan called. She asked what I was doing. I looked around at dirty dishes and piles of laundry. "I'll be here at home," I demurely responded. "Well, I'm coming over. You have two and a half hours of my time this morning. I'll help you clean your house before your parents come." I quickly hid the underwear pile waiting to be folded on the couch and checked to make sure there weren't any others on the bathroom floor. I ran to the basement to clear a path to the Christmas boxes and brought up as many as I could so Susan would have absolutely no reason to go down there. I took out some trash and sorted through recycling because, heaven forbid, she might otherwise venture into the garage. I shut my bedroom door. I brushed my teeth. All the while I was asking myself, "Why is it so scary to let my friend see that life happens around here and doesn't always get cleaned up? Why is it so hard to be the receiver in this way?" I recently shared a very personal entry from my journal with her and that was easier than accepting her generous cleaning offer. Why is that?

When she arrived we took down the Christmas tree. She wrapped each ornament in paper and labeled it! We took down the Christmas village and boxed up the little trees, people and houses. While we worked we talked. I learned a little about her parents and we talked about our hopes and fears for our children. I wanted to say something profound and helpful when she asked my opinion on something she worried about but couldn't really think of anything. I remembered the time I'd been sick and she came with dinner and a family home evening lesson (it was Monday night) and even treats for afterward. Not to mention the time she learned that I had lost something very valuable and called offering to replace it with something valuable of her own. How do you repay someone who is, in every way, an angelic whirlwind? I don't even have time to write a thank you note for the previous kindness before another is extended.

There are other such friends. Friends who have seen our family fall down and get back up again and again. Friends whose gifts of love are too sacred and precious to record publicly. While our family is a strong and happy family, we have experienced some challenging things together in the last few years. All my life I have been trained to be the giver, not the receiver. I felt like I was the one who could make life a little easier for someone else. But in these last few years, I have been the receiver of physical, spiritual and emotional support over and over and over again.

I remember once hearing someone say, "I don't accept charity." The person speaking made it seem that it was dishonorable to be indebted to anyone for anything. In the past I loved feeling like I was strong enough to meet all the needs of my family by myself. But that was the long ago past. I have since learned that I do need charity. I need a lot of it. I hope I am learning to accept charitable offers with humility and grace and in so doing, remember again how very much I need the Savior and His charity. And I hope that by being the receiver again and again I am learning to be a better giver - more generous and Christlike in my service, in my conversation and in my opinions. I hope that by finding myself in a humbler state as I have these last years, I might now turn my eye upon others trying to see them as the Savior sees me; with all my flaws, blemishes and weaknesses (things as they truly are)but with the ability to focus on what is best and most beautiful.

At some point during Susan's visit baby Michael, the youngest of her six children, needed his diaper changed and Susan asked to borrow wipes. I courageously led her upstairs to my bedroom and opened the door. There was the stack of unfolded underwear on my unmade bed; there was the changing table piled high with various and sundries that have nothing to do with changing a baby; there was the ironing board and 3 baskets full of wrinkled things; there was the stack of books and videos waiting to be organized and put away; there were all the dirty socks on the floor and the wet towels hanging over the bed rails to dry; there it all was. Susan reached for the wipes and said, "What a cute bed!"