Ruth

Our 92-year-old neighbor, Ruth, passed away.  Just before Christmas she was taken to the hospital by the paramedics.  She didn't want to go, so she took a swing at one of them and bloodied his nose (a girl after my own heart).  She came home after a couple of days and was home for Christmas.  Shortly after Christmas she took her second trip the hospital, but after a couple of days they sent her home.  There was nothing else they could do for her.

Ruth has a large family, and the last couple of weeks they have all come to see her.  My husband went over and said his goodbyes, as well.  Goodbye is something I don't do well.  I worked up the courage twice.  The first time I looked out the window and saw a whole lot of cars, so I knew there was a lot of family over there.  I didn't go.  The second time I saw her son's bicycle on her lawn.  I knew he had not yet had a chance to say goodbye, so I didn't want to intrude.  I was never able to work up the courage again. I was afraid I would cry in front of her, and I didn't want to do that.

Ruth was a good lady.  She was a little Catholic lady who went to church every day while she was able to do so.  The other day we found out from her daughter that Ruth used to pray for us.  I was quite touched by that.  There must be a special place in heaven for people who pray for the likes of me.  I didn't deserve this sweet lady's prayers.

Ruth and Raymond (who passed a number of years ago) were good neighbors.  We've had a lot of good neighbors.  We moved into the neighborhood as youngsters, really--the neighborhood rookies, if you will.  Our neighbors took care of us.  There was endless advice given about how to take care of our home and how to repair things that broke.  There were cans of paint that suddenly appeared from garages.  Tools were loaned.  If we began a house repair job of any kind, we could be sure that Raymond, Harry, and Shorty would have their heads together in Harry's driveway deciding if there was an easier way to do it, and whether they should step in and help.  Raymond and Harry each lifted several of my children through the bathroom window on numerous occasions to unlock the bathroom door when someone accidentally locked themselves in the bathroom.  After the addition to our home was built, there was no longer a bathroom window.  The inevitable day came when our youngest locked herself in the bathroom.  The kid panicked and was hysterical.  (I never want to be in an emergency situation with this kid!)  Raymond broke down the bathroom door for me.

When my first two children were little, Ruth was providing day care for her grandson.  He was older than my kids.  My oldest, Molly, would sit on the curb with her little red wagon with her head on her knees because she didn't have anyone to play with.  Ruth's grandson would come across the street, pick Molly up and put her in the wagon, and pull her up and down the street.  I suspect that was Ruth's idea.  My kids grew to love Ruth's grandson, and they were often in Ruth's home playing.  I never had to worry about them when they were with Ruth.

It occurred to me this morning that all the old neighbors are now gone.  We are no longer the rookies.  It made me look at what kind of neighbor I am.  My husband is a good neighbor, but I guess I need to step it up a notch.

Acceptance

Over the last week, I've read bits an pieces of Twitter "tweets", Facebook "status updates", and blog posts about the new guidelines for sister missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  It was a very busy week, and I wish I could have read the whole discussion.  The snippets of discussion that I was able to peruse were fascinating.  There were objections about the guidelines for makeup by some, and a whole discussion about the lack of acceptance of dress in general amongst members of the church.  I thought a lot about my past, and how frustrated it was for me not to be accepted.  After giving it some thought, however, I realized that it was not only in church that I was not accepted.  I was pretty much on the outs with my peers my whole childhood -- not accepted by any "group."  There were individuals who embraced me, but not a single "circle" of friends.
So why is it that it is so hurtful when we are not accepted at church?  Maybe it's because that's the one place on earth (other than in our own homes) that we feel we should be accepted.  Didn't Jesus teach that we should love all of Heavenly Father's children?

The internet blogosphere discussion this past week wasn't really about the guidelines for sister missionaries, as I don't think anyone would argue that the Church doesn't have a right to say how the missionaries should be dressed to represent the Church (indeed, the Saviour Himself).  The discussion went much deeper into how we feel about each other, and what we expect of each other.

A good friend (and my first counselor when I was Relief Society President at church) often reminds me that we are all on different levels spiritually.  Remembering that is the key to not judging others -- especially for outward appearance.

When I was Relief Society President, two wards were dissolved and merged into our ward.  We gained 101 new sisters from all walks of life.  Most people embraced the change and realized what an inspired decision this had been.  There was one sister, however, from our old established ward who cornered me in the parking lot and told me that she was going to attend a new ward because some of the new people "smelled bad."  I was floored.  You could have knocked me over with a feather.  I kept hearing my first counselor's voice in my head, "We are all on different levels spiritually."  Resisting the temptation to punch this sister's lights out, I calmly told her that it was her choice, but that she would be missing a great opportunity to help these new sisters grow -- and to grow her own testimony in the process.  I didn't see this sister for a few weeks, then she came to me to apologize.  I've watched this sister grow in so many ways because of her change of heart and willingness to include others into her circle who took her out of her comfort zone.  I'm happy to say that we are a very cohesive ward now.  While there will always be personality clashes (as with any family or group of people), I truly believe that we all love each other.

May we all strive to love as Jesus loves.