Meaning in Home and Visiting Teaching

My father was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer when he was only 44. Our family was devastated. The tumor in his brain made simple tasks and abilities, like using silverware and buttoning up his shirts, very difficult for him. I remember trying to hold back the tears one morning as I watched him struggle to spoon cereal into his mouth.
One rainy weekday afternoon I discovered Dad having difficulty dressing himself in his Sunday suit. He couldn’t communicate very well, but I could see he was agitated. Finally I realized he was preparing to go home teaching. I worried that Dad would lose his balance and fall while out in such a condition, so I tried to discourage him from going. The family he was supposed to visit would surely understand, I told him. But he was determined, and go he did.

When Dad returned, his smile was radiant. His arms were full of fresh, homegrown plums—a gift from the family he had visited.

My father died soon after he made that visit. Whenever I don’t feel like going visiting teaching, I think of my dad—in pain and unable to even speak coherently—still trying hard to fulfill his calling and show others how much he cared about them. That reminds me of the real purpose of visiting teaching. And I think to myself, “If Dad could do it, so can I.”
Title: Lessons Learned from Fathers
Where: Ensign, Apr 2009, 36–39

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