I thought, in honor of our Visiting Teaching message this month, I would look through the Ensign and find stories about visiting teaching.

• I went through the motions of family life day after day but felt increasingly alone. One day, my visiting teachers called. They shared with me a lesson on reading the scriptures. I remember telling them I was familiar with the stories and doctrine, but after hearing my list of excuses, Sister Crowley challenged me to read every day, even if it was only a little. She and her companion left with words of encouragement and a prayer in my behalf. I decided I could commit to read something, even if it was only one verse. As I did so, it was as though a light had finally been turned on in the mist of darkness, and I could see. Through reading the Lord’s words, I began to let Him into my life to heal me.

• How can we be there for sisters who appear to have perfect lives? No life is untouched by sorrow. Stay close, stay watchful, be there for that moment when only a hug will do.

• I have had many visiting teachers: older women, students, and mothers with children in tow. I still try to be as self-reliant as possible, but when I genuinely need help, now I don’t hesitate to ask. Some sisters have brought me dinner after the birth of a child; some have been emergency baby-sitters. The older women have given me precious words of hope and comfort gleaned from their years of experience.

• As visiting teachers remember a sister, it is her family that also receives, and benefits, from their watchcare. This is especially true for the elderly, whose families may not be able to see them on a daily basis.

• As a young newlywed I became a visiting teacher for the first time. I had visions of being inspirational, loving, and kind, and of doing great acts of service. In other words, I wanted to be the perfect visiting teacher. Yet when I received the names of the sisters on my route, I had feelings of trepidation. These women were all older and far more experienced than I was. What did I have to offer these women? As I prepared my first lesson, I felt prompted to pick a certain talk on dealing with adversity. I feared my lesson might sound like a lecture or, worse yet, that she might think I assumed she wasn’t handling her life well. I hesitantly told her I had felt she needed to hear about a particular conference address, but after talking with her, I wasn’t sure it was relevant to her situation. I explained how I had been praying to be in tune with the needs of the sisters I visited and how forcefully the inspiration had come to choose this particular lesson. I related how, during the hour before my appointment with her, I had found scriptures and extra resources that seemed to open up in just the right places. When I told her the topic, the smile slipped away from her lips and tears welled up in her eyes. I listened as she opened up and told me how she had been struggling during the past couple of weeks. Her husband had been working out of town, and she was feeling discouraged and alone as she dealt with some challenging circumstances. I shared with her the message I had felt impressed to give. Before I arose to go, we knelt in prayer, and she thanked Heavenly Father for knowing her needs.

• Sisters who live a long distance from one another have a standing appointment that they each look forward to and depend upon.

• To add to my responsibilities, the Relief Society president gave me a visiting teaching list of 12 sisters who lived in a barrio across town. I’ll admit I was not thrilled about my new assignment. I was busy with my other callings, and I was afraid that I wouldn’t know how to reach out to these Latina sisters. But I made some visiting teaching appointments, and before I knew it I was sitting in the Dumez’s living room. “You’re my visiting teacher?” Sister Dumez asked as she entered the room. “Welcome to my home. I haven’t had a visiting teacher in two years.” She listened intently to the message, we visited, and she thanked me again and again for coming. Before I left she called her five children together to sing “I Am a Child of God” in Spanish. After that welcome, I felt I could easily handle this assignment.

• Some ward members live a plane ride away. Monthly phone calls become a lifeline for them. With visiting teachers, home teachers, Bishoprics, Relief Society and YM/YW leaders calling each month, families can still feel that watchcare.

• I never met her personally, but for many months Jeanette faithfully “visited” me by telephone. I grew very fond of her and looked forward to her calls, although I still didn’t attend church. On one occasion Jeanette helped find someone who could drive my daughter to Utah to visit her father, from whom I was divorced. On other occasions she helped locate babysitters. If she could not contact me by telephone, she would dictate sweet cards with the visiting teaching message or personal “thinking of you” or holiday messages. At one point, Jeanette told me they were revising assignments and asked me if I wanted a “real” visiting teacher. I emphatically told her I wouldn’t trade her for anything, and please not to have her assignment to me changed. I know Jeanette must have been very discouraged by my failure to attend church, and she can’t have thought she was a successful visiting teacher as she patiently listened to my self-pitying stories. Finally, after years of inactivity, I showed up at church. As I was sitting in Relief Society the roll was passed to me. I saw Jeanette’s name and leaned over to count down the row to identify her. After class, I went and knelt down in front of that lovely woman and took her hands in mine. I said, “Jeanette, I’m Evelyn.”  Her face lit up with a great smile, and she placed her hands on my cheeks and said, “Oh, Evelyn, I’m so glad to see you here.”

• Mercedes became a dedicated visiting teacher in Chile. She and her companion, Olga Barros, visited an elderly sister who lived with her daughter, who had an intellectual impairment. One day Mercedes and Olga arrived to find the daughter distressed and confused. She said that her mother had been tired after lunch and had lain down to rest. When the daughter tried to rouse her, she refused to wake up. At that very moment the visiting teachers arrived.

• We can seldom foresee how the Lord will make us instruments in his hands. One year when my companion was out of town, my daughter Elizabeth went with me on my visits. It was Christmastime, so we baked cookies, wrapped them in cellophane, and tied them with red ribbon and a pine branch. Then we put all these little gifts in a bag and had a prayer together. At the last minute I felt a strong prompting and slipped in an extra package. After visiting several houses, we reached the home of a sister who lived with her married son and his family, all of whom were members. Another older woman, looking very tired, was there delivering clothing. Her name was Margarita, and she earned her living doing laundry by hand. Knowing what hard work that is, I handed her the other little package of cookies and wished her a Merry Christmas. With tears in her eyes, she told me that she was completely alone and that this would be her only gift. I spoke to her then about the Lord Jesus Christ and told her that if he is with us, we will not be lonely. I assured her that she was a daughter of God who loved her just as an earthly father loves his children and that if she sought after him, he would receive her with open arms. I told her many more things. Her face lighted up, and she agreed to receive the missionaries. The next month when we went to visit that house, Margarita was there again. She hugged us and said, “Now I can really call you sisters. I was baptized last week.”

• I have enjoyed helping, encouraging, and listening to my sisters and taking a simple message in the Lord’s name. What thrills me most is the feeling that He is walking beside us. I always return with a radiant joy in my heart. Now we are visiting a sister who is ninety-four years old. She can no longer go out, and she sits at the window of her little house each month to wait for us. She is so glad to have someone to talk to. We love her dearly and would never disappoint her.

• “You can come, but don’t mention the Church.” At first Alyce didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t take long for the two vivacious women to become good friends. Occasionally Alyce would call Karen between visits or send a card to let her know she was thinking of her. “It was not a once-a-month kind of thing,” Karen says. “And she never judged or pushed me. It was just what I needed at that time.” Karen’s activation occurred gradually over time, and though it was difficult to take the steps back to activity, Alyce’s warmth made the transition easier.

• I was warned that this particular sister was difficult, but in the months that followed, I visited Virginia Madsen regularly. Through her, I developed a new perspective about visiting teaching. It was much more than an opportunity for pleasant conversation. I made friends with a unique and wonderful person I would never have known were it not for the visiting teaching program. My testimony of the importance of visiting teaching grew, and I looked forward to each visit. We met on Wednesdays, when her husband was gone, and I brought my children, according to her request. As we grew closer, Virginia told me about her own family. She had raised a large family of her own children and foster children. We shared stories, and she expressed concern about their trials and failures and joy about their victories. She cared deeply for her children and was determined to watch out for and support them, despite her weakened condition.  At her funeral, my eyes met those of a sister who had been Virginia’s visiting teacher before me; she had moved from the ward. Now, in a bond of common understanding, we reverently whispered, “Weren’t we the lucky ones to know Virginia Mae Madsen!”

• A special connection happens when a sister sees her visiting teachers sacrifice just to visit her. Take, for example, a nurse who works at the hospital. Her teachers come to her on her lunch hour.

• Kathy called every month for the first few months to try to schedule an appointment. Because I always dodged her visits, she started mailing me the Visiting Teaching Message instead. Every month the message would arrive like clockwork. This went on for four years, even after I married my boyfriend and we had two children. Some months I would throw the message away unread; other months I would read it and then throw it away. When my marriage failed, I found myself with a toddler and an infant to raise alone. I suddenly needed answers. When my monthly Visiting Teaching Message arrived again, I decided to attend church for the first time in ages. I felt so awkward, as if all my sins were written upon my sleeve. A sister I had known in the young single adult program welcomed me, and we sat down together. Suddenly here came Kathy. I looked away, embarrassed that I had not answered any of her kind notes. She smiled at me, chatted with my neighbor for a moment, and then sat with her husband. When I got home from work the next day, there was a message from Kathy on the answering machine. I couldn’t call her back. I just knew she wanted to tell me that I wasn’t allowed to come to church anymore, that my sins had been too great. I felt bad that Kathy had to convey this message to me, but I knew it was true. I had no place among the righteous. I couldn’t call her back, but the next evening she called me again. “I want to apologize,” she said. Why would Kathy possibly need to apologize to me? “I didn’t recognize you when I saw you at church on Sunday,” she said. “After sacrament meeting, I asked the sister you were sitting by who you were. By then you had already left. It was so good to see you.” I was dumbfounded. “I hope we can sit together the next time you come to church,” Kathy added. “I’d like that,” I said, suddenly feeling overcome with emotion. We did sit together the next Sunday—and for many Sundays after that. She served as my inspiration to be a better mother, a better member of the Church, and a better visiting teacher. She always listened patiently, without judging, just as I feel the Savior would.

• Hidden from view by a larger house in front of it, the shabby little place had been difficult to find. Since no telephone number showed on Judy Kearns’s information card, we had checked the directory service, only to learn that she had an unlisted number. With each visit we had left a friendly note asking her to telephone us, but there was no response.  “Just another lost cause,” I thought as we drove down the street toward home, but my conscience nagged. Had we really gone the extra mile?   True, we had put our toes into the extra mile, but that was only a tiny distance, and full steps could be taken. That night, after four telephone calls, I managed to locate the visiting teacher from Judy’s previous ward. The information I got was vague, but I did get the unlisted telephone number. As I hung up, a little stirring of excitement lifted my spirits, and I eagerly dialed her number, only to be met again with the disappointment of prolonged, hollow, unanswered ringing. I tried again the next day and evening, but with no success. While I was on my way home several days later, the thought flashed into my mind that Judy, too, might be on her way home. On a quick impulse I swung the car in her direction and decided to take a chance. I switched off the motor to wait. When twenty-five minutes had ticked by I shifted nervously, knowing my own family would be arriving home wondering where Mom and the usual dinner aroma was. Uneasily I waited another fifteen minutes and was just getting ready to leave when an old, weather-beaten Volkswagen pulled into the driveway. By the time Judy had unloaded two small children from the car and located her house key, I was on the porch explaining who I was and expressing delight in finally having the opportunity to meet her. She responded with a cool, uncomfortable attitude, but my friendliness won and she invited me into her small living room. My visit was short, but I had established a relationship and made an appointment for another visit on her day off. At the door, I looked straight into her eyes and bore my testimony to the truthfulness of the gospel, and begged her not to deprive her precious children of the chance to share in its beauty. Her eyes filled with tears and I squeezed her hand as I left. I went to the Priesthood to verify her home teaching visits and a miracle happened. With the combined effort of dedicated men honoring their priesthood, and the miracle of women who care, it was thrilling to see the process in full operation, to see people eagerly following the Lord’s outlined programs. It was exciting to know that I belonged to His church. Judy came out to Church and the ward welcomed her with arms of love and responsibility, which she accepted gratefully. On the fast Sunday when Judy stood to bear her testimony for the first time, the chapel was especially quiet as we all listened closely. She humbly acknowledged her new-found security in the knowledge that the Lord walked with her and that his gospel brought the serenity to overcome fear and inadequacy. Tears of gratitude flowed down her cheeks as she expressed love for all those who had helped lift her life with their caring. As she finished, most of us reached for our handkerchiefs and sensed the elation of shared victory. Wiping my eyes, I marveled at the beautiful process that had brought about Judy’s transformation. And I knew, incredible as it seemed, that it had all begun with some meager efforts to go the extra mile in my visiting teaching assignment.