Not a Coincidence

I remember my first night in the normal hospital room. After the incident that involved me almost passing out while illegally getting out of bed that I wrote about last time, I sucked on some oxygen and went right back to sleep.

I woke up to a nurse writing on my board "January 24 2014." I remember being surprised that I had been there for so long; I had expected to be released a few hours after entering the ER, completely healed. My roommate at that point came and left in a day or so; as she left I waited for my mom to come.

The second night in that hospital room was when I met my friend Ida. She was the nurse aid, and she was the sweetest person to me. She had a Jersey accent so thick you could slice it with a butter knife, and a heart that deserved medals for its capacity to love. She woke me sweetly each time she had to come in and take my vitals, and always made sure I did not feel embarrassed when I needed help taking care of myself. I loved her immediately, especially as she spoke of her grandkids. She is what we call the salt of the earth- one of the noble ones whose earthly resume is not filled with achievements among men, but who does the small and simple things, somehow understanding what real happiness means, rather than wasting her time looking for it in places it does not exist.

My missionary friends were faithful in their visits. One of my dear friends, Sister Willis, that I had served with nearly my whole mission, was on exchange and thus in my area that day. She came to see me. This was not a coincidence. Sister Willis is absolutely the most compassionate and purest person I know. She had been praying to be able to see me, and it worked out that she could. I received a card from her that an entire zone of missionaries had signed, and a stuffed animal elephant. That elephant became my closest friend throughout my hospital stay- I would not let it go, especially as I slept. The nurses always knew to keep it by my side. To me, the elephant meant that I was loved and not forgotten. It's name is 'Ofa Atu,' or 'I love you' in Tongan.

I was devastated that my mission president had asked my mother to come. No, I did not want to be going through this alone, but I knew that my mom's arrival would mean I would be departing- with her. My mission was ending. Somehow no matter how many doctors came by, how many different scary diagnoses were thrown my way, how many MRI's they sent me for, the only pain I felt was the deep throbbing of a broken heart. It felt like the breath had been taken out of me and a vice was clenching my throat. I could not believe that I was going home, that I was losing the rest of my mission. My happiest world was crumbling around me and I had no power to control it.

She arrived Friday night on a plane from Boise to Denver to Newark. The sweetest senior couple picked my mom up and took her to dinner, and then I remember hearing her come enter my room. I had the bed by the window and the privacy curtain was pulled around me. As she came around the curtain, she smiled and said, "Hello sweetie!" She was angelic. My throat caught; I felt a deep pang in my chest. I quickly covered my face with the pillow and began to cry. She embraced me, after a year apart, and I cried into her shoulder, unable to hold her or even support my own weight. I was not alone anymore- my guard to stay poised immediately fell and I was able to let her protect me as she always had done and always would.

My mom snuggled on the bed with me as I cried that first night she was there. I felt such a loss to see my missionary friends and be unable to join them in their service to others. I asked my mom with tears in my eyes if I could teach her a missionary lesson, and, willing to do anything to help me be happy, she said yes please. I began by sharing some thoughts on the Atonement of Christ, and how He can change our nature if we give ourselves to Him and plead for His grace. I bore my testimony that He had changed mine. And then I shared the following verses, my absolute favorites in all of scripture:

Alma 7:11-13

11 And he shall go forth, suffering pains and ^aafflictions and^btemptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will ^ctake upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people.

 12 And he will take upon him ^adeath, that he may ^bloose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to ^csuccor his people according to their infirmities.

 13 Now the Spirit ^aknoweth all things; nevertheless the Son of God suffereth according to the ^bflesh that he might ^ctake upon him the sins of his people, that he might blot out their transgressions according to the power of his deliverance; and now behold, this is the testimony which is in me.

As my mom read, our dear friend Ida came in to take my vitals. She said, "Oh boy are you readin' the word?" We responded that we were, and she wanted to guess from which gospel we were reading. After finishing the verses, she couldn't figure out where in the bible they were, so we introduced her to The Book of Mormon. My mom testified of the purpose of our existence, happiness, and quoted 2 Nephi 2:25 (she bomb, I know) and Ida said she would love her own personal copy of this book. We introduced her to the missionaries, and they got in contact with her shortly. I love Ida with all of my heart.

I went to sleep in peace that night. Right in my hour of distress, the Lord had sent me someone who wanted to hear the gospel. He showed me that He cares by giving me moments of joy, even when passing through what was then my own Gethsemane.