My gentle efforts to get Elder Davis to rise earlier and get to work had been met with mixed success. Once he was ready, I could get him out the door, though his lack of preparation usually left our lessons in jeopardy. Getting him with both shoes and his tie on by 10:00, however, was the hard part. It was easy to tell him not to watch movies, but telling him to get up and be ready to go by ten was harder because it required me to follow up on every step of the process. Often, following up grew so tedious that he swept me into his pattern of laziness.
"Elder," I would say, "we're getting out on time today."
"Sure," he would say, and fall asleep on the couch again.
That's when I'd sit on him or sing loudly. I hated the look that sometimes came over him, though — that expression of irritation that made him retreat more deeply into his shell. If I overdid the correction, Elder Davis would withdraw to a place where only his DVDs (which he always seemed to find despite my attempts to hide them) could keep him company.
When the exchanges arrived, I quickly explained to the district leader my situation. He told me what to do: just keep doing what I was doing while he passed the problem up the chain of command.
I slept better than night. From now on, I didn't have to be the bad guy. I had passed that buck on.
No one else had told? They had, this is why he wasn't a senior companion.
ReplyDeleteI like this better because I see a tiny bit more of you. Still, I feel like I am getting only the veneer of your story, Ryan.