I love my visiting teachers, Jackie and Deanna. They're about 10 years older than me, and have been around the block. They're wise and funny and smart. My friend, Jackie, once told me when I was (yet again) planning my funeral "Oh, Arlene, we're not going to give you a funeral. We're just going to put you in a glad bag and haul you out to the cemetery."
A lot of people wouldn't find that funny, but I laugh every time I think about it. I'm such a pain in the ass, with my hypochondria and my melancholia.
And they come!!!
Yesterday, we were visiting and I mentioned, as I folded clothes, that I couldn't get Bill's garments to come clean, they are gray, for some reason.
They told me it was the Downy I'd been putting in them. Jackie jumped up and said, "Oh, I know how to fix that! Get your dishwasher soap."
And she went into the bathroom, and dumped the basket of garments in the tub, and poured dishwasher soap on them as she ran the hot water.
Then she picked up my plunger and mixed them around. Kneeling over the tub with my plunger as Deanna and I looked on.
Dang, you guys, you wouldn't believe the gunk that came out of those just-washed garments! I ran them through a cycle in my washer and they look darn good!
Now that's the spirit of visiting teaching. Deanna is just newly reactivated (I was her visiting teacher for quite awhile) and she plays the piano in Relief Society now and she is being a strength to me as I struggle. She lost a son to cancer and we cry together. Jackie is there for me at all times. I know I can count on them.
That's how to be a visiting teacher, you guys.