Serving with a willing heart and a smile pasted on your face is the right way to serve right? I have probably gone to serve more times with a grudge than with a smile. I always come out with a lesson learned and I am usually served with a big slice of humble pie. God is always teaching me because I will forever be imperfect in this life. This is a story of service when my heart wasn’t in the right place. I took a leap of faith and followed an impression to help someone in need.

At this time my Dad has M.S. and he is currently living on his own. I help him shower and take care of his basic needs. I try to do all I can for him although it is a challenge with a young family.  He is able to attend the temple, do his own shopping, and live on his own for now. 

First and foremost, Sunday mornings are hard, too early, and a little chaotic trying to get to sacrament meeting on time. My three little kids are respectful and obedient. There is just a checklist a mile long to complete. Baths, hair, dresses, shoes, ties, shirts, ironing, breakfast, quiet books, callings to fulfill, dinner prep and trying to keep a clean house. I am usually ready for a nap once I finally hit the cushioned bench in the chapel. In my mind I am mentally preparing for junior and senior singing time as I call out orders to my oldest daughter for help. Sometimes I feel pressure to present a song and dance for the kids to keep them entertained in Primary. I am also thinking about the next ward activity that is coming up next month and all the finite details I need to take care of as I blow dry my daughters curly brown hair. To top it all off I am in charge of girls camp this summer. I am feeling the pressure to accomplish my long list of duties within my family and within my church responsibilities . 

My husband left an hour ago to attend his church meetings. I am rushing to take care of all the details of Sunday morning. As I am getting my three kids ready I realize I don’t have enough time to try a new activity in [primary] singing time. I am just going to wing it. I am going to have all the children with white shoes sing and compete with all of the children with black and assorted colors of shoes. That always works well. This primary group loves a good competition. It is fun to see them sing out and find joy in feeling the spirit through song. I pull my two year old from the tub and call for his sister to help me get him dressed. I quickly part my daughters hair on the diagonal and braid in three cornrows. We pick out a cute little dress that goes with her hair. I gel my son’s hair and send him out to the living room. Now all I have left to fix is myself. What can I throw on and make my frazzled self look half decent? 

I yell into the living room, “You guys don’t forget your morning prayers!” This also serves as a good reminder for myself. I go to my bedroom and hit my knees for a few moments. My mind is not paying attention to the words that are being repeated inside my head. Aren’t we constantly warned about rote prayers? Well, here I am reciting, repeating, and retelling words that have been in my prayers a thousand times. My mind is off somewhere thinking about the girls camp committee and if we will all get along. I appropriately end my prayer. My first impression is to jump up and finish getting myself ready for the Sabbath. I sense I should stay down on my knees for a moment. I let out a small frustrated sigh as I sit and I wait on an impression or a revelation to fill my mind. I sort through my thoughts that I had earlier, “Lord, is there something you need to enlighten me about any of my callings or my kids?” There is silence and nothing penetrates my scrambled thoughts. Irritated, I jump up to my feet and hurry to my closet to look for something to pair together. I walk over to my side of the bed to check the time and I assess that we are going to be late if I don’t hurry. A clear impression pierces my heart and I stop, “Go check on your Dad.” “No, leave me alone. I can’t right now. Can’t you see that my hands are full this morning?” I repeat in my head. Again the strong impression comes, “Leave everything and go check on your Dad.” I rehearse in my head, “right now? You want me to go right now?” The feeling comes back even stronger the third time. I think to myself this is crazy. I am at the point of tears because I just can’t leave everything and go… I quickly find the phone and I dial the church’s clerk’s office and I tell my husband my situation. Alan is understanding of my impression and he hurries home to take the kids to church so I can leave. 

My heart is beating fast as I run through my kitchen with a plump chicken thawing in the sink. I jump into my car and I am careful to go the speed limit. I pull out onto the highway and I know I need to push the accelerator down as fast as it will go. I throw away all caution of getting a speeding ticket. Emotions well up in my eyes as I realize my Dad must be in trouble. I had been in to visit him yesterday afternoon and he seemed fine. I have a deep urgency to hurry to get to him. I pull into his apartment complex and I shove the car into park. I slam my door and I hurry to the front of the large gray building. I swing the door open and a sour mildew smell accosts me. Maintenance must have just had these dingy carpets shampooed. I hurry down the long hall and when I reach my dads hall I start into a dead run to his door. I knock on his door to his apartment and there is no sound. I reassess my emotions and I check myself. “He is fine,” I tell myself. “I have left everything behind for no reason. He is just asleep.” I knock a second time and there is no call to come in from the other side. I turn the door knob and what I see in front of me almost brings me to my knees. I immediately dial 9-1-1 and call for help. 

I run to my dads side and he has slipped through his seat belt on his wheelchair and his arms are raised high above his head. His back is arched out and his knees have fallen sideways on the floor. The T.V. is talking in the background with colors flashing. I glance into the kitchen and I see last night’s dinner of fried chicken out on the counter top. His apartment has a distinct smell of urine and meals on wheels. I push past all of this and I see my dad hung up in his wheelchair. He has been this way all night long. He has trouble responding to me and his eyes look at me like a crazed bull that’s been locked in a chute for far too long. He never has his seatbelt done up on his chair. I was confused why he was buckled in? I kneel at his side and I touch him and ask, “Dad, what happened?” he gasps out in short sentences, “Temple…bus… did not unbuckle…got home…fell through.” His breathing is labored. He waits in tortured agony for the ambulance to come. I try to move him and get him to sit upright. He yells out in pain. I do not have the strength to move him from his fallen position. 

The EMT and Paramedics give a quick knock and then push through the door. There are four of them in their blue suits, black leather shoes and plastic badges. Their CB’s squelch is turned down and they abruptly shut off the static. They surround dad as I sit on the outside of their circle. They ask him questions, “Sir, what’s your name?” I answered the paramedic, “It’s NICK!” They give me a hard glance and say, “You need to be quiet. We need him to answer the questions.” I don’t understand why they are not immediately helping him? They go through a myriad of questions and then they pull him from his seat belt that is tight around his chest and holding his arms high in the air. They put him on a gurney and transport him to the ER. He had been in that position since 11 o’clock the night before. An EMT hangs behind and says, “Your dad will probably lose his function in his arms and there is a high chance that they will amputate both of his arms. Follow us to the ER where your dad will be further assessed.” 

A wave of grief washes over me for my own selfishness. Knowing that my father suffered for almost ten hours in his apartment all alone as I comfortably slept through the night and then worried about stupid fickle things as he hung from his secured seatbelt suffering. I am humbled to my core. I think of my self-absorbed thoughts from earlier this morning of wanting to push the comforter’s promptings aside. I hang my head and I am filled with remorse.   

My dad didn’t lose his arms but he did experience a lot of pain for the next several weeks in both of his arms. He had Multiple Sclerosis and it already affected his fine motor skills. His dexterity was reduced even more after he was hung up in his wheelchair. His right hand took the brunt of the damage to his motor skills. This took a toll on the few things left he was able to do. He was unable to maneuver his wheelchair, write, and eat successfully.

Furthermore, there are times when we walk into a really difficult situation. Remaining calm and assessing the needs of the individual can be crucial. In my experience serving others can be a lot of things. It can be reassuring words, holding their hand, making a phone call, and even just sitting there until more help arrives.  

Finally, I left my young family on an impression to help my dad. I have found that when I follow my gut it is usually right. If I would have not followed the prompting to go and serve my dad he would have had both of his arms amputated. We are often the answer to others prayers when we follow an impression to serve. I am so grateful and honored that I was able to minister to my dad that day.

Here are a few things you can try when you are serving someone else: 

1. Follow promptings.
2. Read the room: Both the EMT’s and I were unsure of what we were walking into. Assessing the situation and being quick to call for help saved my dads arms. 
3. Reach out for other resources:  I couldn’t help my dad on my own. He needed a priesthood blessing, additional family members help, trained medical personnel, and a team of people who could love and support him. 

Resources:

https://ideas.bkconnection.com/serving-others-in-a-difficult-time

https://www.vox.com/first-person/2019/12/10/21003228/how-to-help-a-friend

Thriving in Crisis: Serving Others

https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/church/news/conference-moment-dont-postpone-a-prompting-taught-president-monson?lang=eng