Ami was her ward’s powerhouse. She was the closest thing they had to Molly Mormon, the fictitiously perfect Mormon wife. Many of her Relief Society Sisters tended to look at her with a mixture of pity and envy. She never seemed to miss an activity. In fact, she usually had so much energy that she could nearly always be counted on to bring some form of refreshments, even if she wasn’t asked to. Her home was almost always immaculate, even though she had three small children under the age of five. Somehow, even with that obstacle, she still managed to keep things clean at home and make treats for ward activities and take hot meals to sisters that were in need. What’s more, she never seemed to confuse any two different activities. If she said she’d bring something to a given activity, she always brought that thing. If she hadn’t been asked, then what she brought was usually appropriate.
There were, of course, rumors throughout the ward as to why she was so energetic. Some said she had a kind of mental illness that kept her moving, something like obsessive-compulsive disorder, and that there was a connection between that and Ami’s ability to stay on top of things. However, though she might have been a shade compulsive, no one ever seemed to catch her acting obsessive.
No one seemed to know exactly how much they needed her in the ward, though, with the possible exceptions of the Bishop and the Relief Society President. She had a distinct presence there that, for some reason, everyone seemed to miss. That was why it was such a shock to everyone when she died.
It happened in the most peculiar way, too. Ami was walking to a Relief Society Meeting, her car was in the shop and her husband’s didn’t have enough gas, so she’d elected to walk since the church building wasn’t really all that far. She was standing on the street corner across from the building waiting for the traffic light to change when a little blue Dodge coupe came roaring around the corner, followed closely by a police officer. The driver of the coupe was paying more attention to the police car following him than he was on the road ahead of him. The result, of course, was that he jumped the curb. Ami was also looking the other way and failed to see the coupe until it was right on top of her. She died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.
They broke the news to the ward in church that Sunday and everyone was stunned. The ward suddenly seemed just so barren without Ami. The Bishop, however, was right in his element. Following prayer, he’d called all his speakers and asked them to talk about “The Worth of Souls”. That Sacrament meeting was one of the most spiritual the ward had ever known. The classes that followed that meeting were different as well. In Gospel Doctrine class, the teacher really seemed to be in tune with the spirit and asked each member of the class to tell what they remembered best about Ami. In Priesthood, several brethren walked up to Ami’s grieving husband and offered whatever help they could. In Relief Society, as usual, the Relief Society President asked for volunteers to take meals to the family. This time, however, they had so many volunteers that Ami’s family would have enough preprepared dinners to last them a month, at least.
Some might say that Ami’s death really transformed people. Her ward put up a picture of her in their display case with the caption, “Remember Ami” beneath it. Some people said that looking at that picture inspired people to greater service. Her husband, Brian, often said that he believed Ami had died happy. She’d been on her way to do something she loved, serve her sisters.
This story is pure, out and out fiction. However, every church group has a member like Ami, someone who serves their family and friends quietly and energetically. Rather than talking about them, we should be striving to become more like them. This is just one writer’s opinion.