Sabbath Devotional :: Buds if not Buddies

We recently concluded our Operation Purple Rain. Every day since May 1st, I, like many of you, sent letters to Congressman Jason Chaffetz in purple envelopes to urge him to act aggressively as Chairman of the Oversight and Government Reform committee to explore Russian ties with our current administration. I wanted to add a little creative zest to the task so I wrote my messages in haiku. That choice made me focus on finding out more about the man and his actions.

Since I’m only recently a resident of Utah, I didn’t know anything about him — including how to pronounce his last name. While looking for photos to accompany one of my haikus, I learned that he was a place kicker on the football team when he was at BYU. I learned that he previously worked for NuSkin. I learned the name of his family dog (Ruby). I watched YouTube videos from the Fall of 2016 when he, as the zealous Oversight Committee Chair, wanted to get to the bottom of “suspicions” about Hillary Clinton’s email.

That’s not a lot. It’s basically a Wikipedia search taken up a notch. I can’t say I “know” him and I certainly can’t figure out or predict why he does what he does. Are we soul mates? No. I cannot get a bead on the guy.

And yet. . .

There was something about the process of writing daily that kept him in and on my mind. I thought about him as I contemplated what I wanted to convey to him and how I wanted to say it — even if it would use only 17 syllables. I thought about him as I researched recent Congressional letters he wrote or comments he made in the press. I thought about him as I tried to keep track of him and his travels once he announced his foot surgery. I felt awful for him when I saw all those screws in his x-ray. I clucked like a frustrated mother hen that he would defy doctors’ orders and fly back to DC when he should recuperate. I worried about family if he really had been spending so much time in DC on his lonely cot.

I wasn’t stalking him, but I was devoting energy to him. And it felt familiar. But why?

I had no natural connection to him. We had nothing much in common other than living in the same state, belonging to the same Church and caring about our country. But here I was, tasked to connect with him on vital matters with long lasting consequences.

THAT’s what it was! I was his visiting teacher!

I have been a visiting teacher for decades now. I am familiar with the challenge of trying to form bonds with people I otherwise might not connect with. It is an exercise in stewardship and in building bonds of unity. It has brought me some of my richest friendships and some of my deepest spiritual experiences. Not all of my visiting teaching people became fast friends or deep confidants, but the discipline of regular contact and personal concern always bore good fruit.

This process of communicating with our members of Congress about issues of grave concern is hard. I am learning it may also be sanctifying. Trying to encourage bipartisan accord in our government (and in MWEG itself!) takes muscle and heart. Genuinely trying to follow the principles of non-violence with compassion (if not necessarily affection) is a rigorous challenge. As I mentioned in one thread, “I’m trying to channel Jesus, MLK and Gandhi but so far it only feels like a personality disorder.”

As true as that is, I rejoice to see the buds of something greater spring from the intertwining of my new practice of connecting with leaders who can make changes for good in our country and my deeply ingrained discipline of visiting teaching.

Onward, Sisters!

This is hard. There is hope. There is life and Life in these efforts.

With enormous affection and gratitude,

Linda