What I’m about to say is going to upset a lot of people, but I’ve always been an honest blogger so I’ll just have out with it. As far as visiting teaching goes, I’ve never really been a fan. I don’t question its value but it has never been the light of my life as it is for some women. Because I do not relish visits myself it is hard for me to believe that anyone would want me to visit them. In fact, the last time I made an official visiting teaching visit to a particularly enthusiastic new homeowner in my ward Ben knocked over one of her newly painted doors and put a hole in it. This left me with a problem. The formerly dark-brown, crappy, particle board, hollow door was about 30 years old. You can’t replace those. But a new door wouldn’t match the old doors which she had pain-stakingly painted. A new door would defeat the whole purpose of her upgrade, “Why did you paint those crappy doors instead of replacing them with new ones—like that one there.” So I took the coward’s way out—a gift card in the mailbox and I haven’t been back since. Can you blame me?
Well, all of this changed yesterday. As some of you know I have been assigned to Sista C as a visiting teacher. I took her to a doctor’s appointment yesterday and dropped her oxygen tank on the ground. It didn’t explode, and for that I am grateful. As I was fumbling around with the tank Sista C pulled out a tiny key to her house and gave it to me. Probably everyone in our ward has one, but it was a very tender moment for me. I didn’t know what to say except for “Score!” So then I was totally cruising around with her handicapped hanging sticker and it occurred to me that visiting teaching RULES.
We then went to Carl’s Jr., as is our custom. Sista C kind of took our server to task over the fry sauce, which I took note of. (This becomes important later.) It was a tiny bit awkward, but there are certain things certain people feel strongly about and for her, it’s fry sauce. Later we were at the Drive Thru pharmacy, which I love—and I told her as much. Well, Sista C. told me that the drive-thru pharmacy used to be a credit union and before that, an Arctic Circle with a house attached to it. Do you see where this is going? Yes. Sista C. lived in that house and RAN that Arctic Circle in the 1960s. Hello Beautiful! It all makes sense now. It will surely seem like I am making this up in order to create a breath-taking story but those who are close to me will know that it is true: I love Arctic Circle and, in particular, am quite interested in their fry sauce and the many regulations regarding its dispersion and use which are actually posted at the restaurant. I couldn’t believe what she was telling me. Apparently her Arctic Circle was quite successful. She was pregnant with her first baby there and was bagging hamburgers and fries while she timed her pains. Love it. They made fresh fries (not frozen) and their own batter for fish. Love it. What’s more, Sista C’s pursuit of convenience has, apparently, been a lifelong one. She said with delight, “We just opened the door and there was our work!” Just like now, she just opens her front door and there is her car. Love it. Visiting teaching? Love it.
Sadly, I have yet to fully embrace what is now known as “Enrichment Night.” I just got a flier inviting me to join them for an evening of “de-stressing.” I think this is some kind of trick because they say they are going to teach “self-massage techniques” and I’m pretty sure that’s not allowed in our church. Needless to say I won't be attending.