2022
I Know That Song
December 2022


“I Know That Song,” Liahona, Dec. 2022.

Latter-day Saint Voices

I Know That Song

I had forgotten Brother Tingey, but God remembered him.

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women singing

For a weekly activity, our ward Young Women leaders arranged a visit to a local nursing home. We would sing Christmas carols, share smiles, and return to the church for hot cocoa and cookies.

I really didn’t want to enter the discomfort of those hospital-like rooms, with their antiseptic smells, sparse decor, and feeling of sadness. I confess I was more interested in the cocoa and camaraderie of my friends than singing to the elderly.

We arrived and walked past a small strand of Christmas lights to the rooms. As we sang several beloved carols, some residents had tears in their eyes, some tried to sing along, and some seemed indifferent. All thanked us as we left their rooms, but I didn’t feel the joy that often accompanies service. I felt sad, wondering how many people visited the nursing home only at Christmastime.

“We’re going to Brother Tingey’s room now,” one of our leaders said. “He has Alzheimer’s disease, so he doesn’t remember much. You know that Sister Tingey passed away a while ago.”

A pang of remorse pricked my heart. I had forgotten all about the Tingeys. Brother Tingey and his sweet wife had been the white-haired angels of our congregation. I remembered their smiling faces, Sister Tingey’s gentle touch, and Brother Tingey’s friendly greetings. I hadn’t noticed when they stopped attending church. I hadn’t even remembered that Sister Tingey had passed away.

We entered Brother Tingey’s room and gathered in a semicircle around his wheelchair. Our singing filled the room, but he sat still, his head drooping. After two songs, one of our leaders suggested that we sing “I Am a Child of God.”1

As we began, Brother Tingey suddenly lifted his head, opened his eyes, and looked at us. He smiled and in a feeble voice said, “I know that song.”

Tears began to run from his eyes onto his cheeks. By the time we finished singing, we were all weeping. Then we hugged Brother Tingey and said goodbye.

Through the simplicity of a song and the imperfect voices of a group of teenage girls, Brother Tingey was reminded that he was still a child of God and that God had not forgotten him. Since that visit, neither have I.

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