One by One

ONE BY ONE

. . .Jesus . . . touched with his hand the disciples . . . one by one, even until he had touched them all, and spake unto them as he touched them. (3 Nephi 18:36)

Just out of high school, she came, a little late, to summer’s first Institute class.

“Mindy! Welcome. There’s a seat right there in the second row.”

She was at the chalkboard right after class.

“How did you know my name?”

“Seminary.”

That didn’t communicate, so I explained. “I visited your class a couple of times. When I’m there I scribble out a make-shift seating chart and learn everyone’s name.”

“I must’ve been asleep. I don’t remember you coming.”

“How about when I came just last month and invited all the seniors to come to summer Institute? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“That was you?”

I had made quite an impression, I could tell. “So, what are your plans this Fall?”

“Eastern Illinois College. They were kind enough to give me a soccer scholarship.”

“Soccer player! I’ve got a couple of daughters who do that. And this summer, are you on a team?”

“AAU, 18 and under.”

“How are you doing?”

“Don’t know yet – we just started. I think we’ll be pretty good, though.”

“So what else do you do to keep out of trouble?”

She smiled. “I’m getting pretty good at not getting caught. But I do work at Karts R Us – you know – pizza, arcade, miniature golf, and go-carts?”

“The one just off the freeway at Meridian?”

“That’s the one.”
“How do you like it?”

“Oh, you know, it’s a job. We sure get some crazy customers sometimes.”

She told me about one; we chuckled. I learned that she drove a Bug. I did too – a vintage convertible (couldn’t afford a sports car, so had assuaged my mid-life crisis that way).

I tried to chat one-on-one with each of my students before or after class each week, so when it came to Mindy I asked her about the things we had in common. She would always have a weird customer to talk about, or an adventure with her Volkswagen – something interesting to relate. She in turn would ask me about my soccer-playing daughters, or what was wrong with my Bug this week.

Summer institute ended. Sure enough, she was off to college. Every time I saw her dad that fall I asked about her. One time he responded with, “Mindy thinks you walk on water, you know.”

I was of course surprised, but I recover quickly. “Well, it’s nice to learn I have somebody fooled. How did I manage to pull that off?”

“First of all, you remembered her name, and in her experience that’s rare for an adult. But you also talked to her like you cared, and for her, you’re the first adult who would remember the topic of conversation from week to week. She said it was like an ongoing conversation, only it was just once a week. I want you to know her mother and I really appreciate what you’ve done for her.”

I mumbled some sort of embarrassed something.

Later as I thought about it, I welled up with gratitude, which began leaking from my eyes.

“Lord,” I remember saying in my mind, “Is that all it takes? That’s just me – that’s what I try to do with all my students. If a simple thing like that makes a difference, I can do that for Thee.”