Lifting The Hands that Hang Down

I have a friend who is a hero of mine. She is selfless (though she would tell you otherwise). She is constantly thinking of others. She doesn't ask "What can I do?" She tells you what she's going to do. Because she pays attention and knows what will help.

When I was pregnant with Rachelle and on bed rest, she came over, several times, and helped me with my out-of-control toddler. She saw first hand the burden I was bearing. And then she didn't ignore it. I was constantly getting meals, free babysitting, and uplifting encouragement through my time of darkness.

I thought of her when President Monson admonished us to care for one another at this most recent conference. And thought of myself. And the difference between the two of us.

He said: "I am confident it is the intention of each member of the Church to serve and to help those in need. At baptism we covenanted to 'bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light.' How many times has your heart been touched as you have witnessed the need of another? How often have you intended to be the one to help? And yet how often has day-to-day living interfered and you’ve left it for others to help, feeling that 'oh, surely someone will take care of that need.'. . .

"You may lament: I can barely make it through each day, doing all that I need to do. How can I provide service for others? What can I possibly do?"

I am one that President Monson was discussing. I often feel the "stirrings of the Spirit" to reach out to someone, but then, as he said, my day-to-day living interferes and I think "How can I provide service for others?"

A few weeks ago, Michael had been out of town for a week and I was exhausted from a week of single parenting. Having Michael out of town throws Shaelyn out of her much-needed routine, and her bad behavior lapsed. We were at our weekly playground mommy-and-me group, and Shaelyn had a full-on meltdown when it was time to leave. My hero-friend stuck around. I told her she didn't need to, but she insisted I might need company if Shaelyn failed to calm down quickly (she was throwing her tantrum alone in the car). When Shaelyn was finally calmed down enough for me to buckle her in, I told my friend she was calm and we could go.

My friend asked "and how are you?"

"Fine." I replied.

"But how are you really?" she pressed.

My sudden outburst of tears answered her question.

"Bring her to my house. Right now. I have diapers, food, anything she needs. Just follow me over there."

I took Shaelyn over there. My friend asked me for her car seat, and told me she would return Shaelyn 4 hours later. I cried the whole way home, grateful for someone who was willing to help me bear my burden. And grateful that she didn't say "what can I do?" Because my response would have been just like yours, "Oh nothing. I'm alright." Instead, she told me what she was going to do. And I was too shell shocked to refuse.

Later I learned that on the day my friend kept my very distraught daughter at her house for 4 hours, she also had her in-laws in town and was making dinner for a friend who had just had a baby to be delivered that night. She did not let her day-to-day living interfere with her ability to help me. She did not assume someone else would take care of my need. She turned her good intentions into good deeds.

This weekend I received a heart-breaking email from a dear friend living thousands of miles away. She is overwhelmed. She is struggling with a difficult child. She needs a break, but has no idea where to find it. She has friends, but none who know of the details of her struggle. She feels alone and sees no end to the burden that is weighing her down. I offered her what little I could - a phone call, some encouraging words, a prayer on her behalf - and thought of these words of President Monson:

"Often we live side by side but do not communicate heart to heart. There are those within the sphere of our own influence who, with outstretched hands, cry out, 'Is there no balm in Gilead?'"

As part of my prayer for my dear friend, I prayed that she would have the courage to share the story of her burden with others who are at this time unaware of her suffering, and that those friends in turn would be able to put aside their day-to-day interferences and rise up to be her much-needed hero.

At the same time, I vowed to do this for others. To be more aware. Less self-absorbed. And to offer more specific relief, and less generic "what can I do for you?" questions.

Because, as President Monson said, "My brothers and sisters, we are surrounded by those in need of our attention, our encouragement, our support, our comfort, our kindness—be they family members, friends, acquaintances, or strangers. We are the Lord’s hands here upon the earth, with the mandate to serve and to lift His children. He is dependent upon each of us."