VT and HT

My visiting teacher and I were having an argument on Sunday about who was the worse visiting teacher.  I know how bad she is, and I know how bad I am, and so I know I'm the worse.  She's actually one of my favorite VTs ever.  She's funny, smart, entertaining, and doesn't come over and inconvenience me.  When she substitutes at my school we count it.  If she subs for me, her note at the end of the day counts.  I walked into book club with her this week and it counts.  Some months we could count 10 visits or more.  She also thinks about me, probably prays for me, and I know she'd do whatever she could do for me if I was in need.  Most of the time I just need a laugh, or a good conversation, or a sub.  A prayer never hurts too.

The thing that brought about our argument was the sacrament theme which made us each feel guilty, VT and HT.  The man that spoke on home teaching told a story that caused a collective silent gasp and some tears.  He told of growing up just a few houses away from his Uncle Lloyd and how connected they were.  He describe him as a WWII vet with the build of Superman.  Uncle Lloyd came down to see all of the fireworks that they had one Fourth of July, but said he wouldn't be around that evening.  He had seen and heard too many explosions during the war and just wanted to spend the night in a rocking chair with a lemonade.  After that his young nephew never liked fireworks.  He told stories of how they spent every birthday, holiday, and celebration together.  Uncle Lloyd was his idol.  Then when he entered the 7th grade his family moved out of state.  He missed everything terribly, but especially his Uncle.  Later during this year plans were begun for a family reunion.  He was so excited to see Uncle Lloyd again.  When he talked about his excitement to his parents, they were confused.  Then they explained that Uncle Lloyd wouldn't be at the family reunion.  He wasn't really his uncle.  He was their home teacher.