People Who Need People

“For behold, are we all not all beggars?” (Mosiah 4:19).

It has always been easier for me to offer service than it has been for me to receive it.  I don’t mean to say that I always serve whenever I can as cheerfully as I can without fail because that certainly isn’t true; I also don’t mean I am too proud to accept someone’s kindness because that isn’t true either!  I simply find that I would rather be in a position to give service than to receive it.  It is quite different to care for the needy than to be the needy.

In high school I volunteered every Sunday at a local nursing home to play the piano.  Many of the residents suffered from various degrees of dementia.  I found myself among a very sweet collection of broken bodies and broken minds, though I sometimes failed to appreciate the fact. One afternoon I walked in to see an old, crippled man staring off into the distance while his son kissed him goodbye.  He didn’t move, he didn’t speak, he just kept drooling and staring as the son he didn’t recognize walked away.  A few minutes later I began to play “God Be with You Till We Meet Again” on the mediocre, out-of-tune piano. Behind me I heard the old man’s soft, melodious grunting.  He didn’t quite recognize his son, but for a moment he could remember the music and it made him happy to hum along. It was a brief moment, but I was so deeply touched that an ordinary 17-year-old girl had something to give to a dying man she had never met nor would ever meet again.

Those are the kinds of moments I experienced as a missionary: moments of joy and fulfillment as I gave my all in a worthwhile cause; moments when the love of our Heavenly Father filled my heart and the hearts of those I served.  Then all of a sudden my body refused to do what my spirit wanted.  I was the sick and the weary in heart.  It made me feel useless, just sitting in my house day after day, waiting for help instead of giving it, shedding the tears, instead of soothing them.  I wanted to be the warrior not the casualty, a lifter, not the burden.  What was I supposed to do?  What did I have to give?  And why was I rendered so unhelpful and useless?

Firstly, that is a stupid thing to think and exactly what Satan likes, but that is how I felt.  Secondly, charity and love and service come in many different forms.  Everybody can love somebody, so that should give us all both the ability and opportunity to serve somebody; but we still have to factor in limitations and circumstances.  Some people have nothing to give to the poor, not everybody can shovel snow off of driveways; we simply can’t all give the same things.  Sometimes what we have to offer is control over our temper, or listening with a sympathetic heart, or sharing the conviction of our faith, or even providing opportunities for others to serve.  We can only give what we can, but two mites are better than none.

At some point we all need help.  I am so grateful for the many acts of love and service that have been offered to me when I needed them: the hugs, the tears, the kind messages, the phone calls, the prayers, the fasting, the listening, and love that has gone into me is wonderful and humbling.  Even in my very small trials, there have been so many people that have reached out to me in love, people I know well and people I hardly know at all.  We are all people who need people.  God works through us.  We are tools in His hands.  We feel His love through love to one another.  We should give and we should take, we should offer help, and we should ask for it.  We are the needy.  We all depend on the Savior and what He has to give.  We should do our best to be like Him, and lean on Him when we fall.