Tap. Tap tap. Something, from somewhere, tapping. And man, that tapping sure is stubborn. That tapping just won't stop. As if to say, "Hey! Hey you! Hey you, wake up down there! Hey, remember me? Remember where you're headed? Don't you remember what you want, what your goal is? Don't you remember why you're here in the first place? Don't you remember who I am?"
Have you ever felt homesick for a home you can't quite remember? There are moments when I catch a glimpse--just a split second--of a place where everything feels right, where things fell into place a long time ago and won't be moving any time soon. And it feels so familiar. I have been there before, and I long to return. But just as I catch hold of the image in my mind, it slips away--only to visit again for another fleeting moment.
I imagine the Nephites felt similarly when Christ came to visit them. It must have felt so familiar, as if they were getting a glimpse into the home they once knew. When the time came for Him to leave, they looked "steadfastly upon him as if they would ask him to tarry a little longer" (3 Nephi 17:5). They had just caught hold of that fleeting moment and were nowhere near ready to let it go. In all His compassion and glory, Christ was moved to show unto the Nephites as He had to those in Jerusalem--He healed their sick and afflicted, He blessed their children, He prayed for them.
I was once told that the greatest service you can ever do for anyone is to pray for them. What power there is in that statement. The nearest we can come to charity--to feeling and acting upon Christ's pure love--is prayer. Always accessible, always available, prayer.
Christ prays for us. Of the multitudes surrounding Christ during His visit to the Americas, it is written, "No one can conceive of the joy which filled our souls at the time we heard him pray for us unto the Father." Imagine the power of this moment--imagine the peace and the joy, imagine hearing your Lord and Savior praying to your Father in Heaven for you. I cannot comprehend a moment where I would feel more encircled about in His love than that.
Perhaps, through faith, we might longer hold to that glimpse of home. Perhaps that fleeting moment might "tarry a little longer." Perhaps, through our faith we, as the woman in Jerusalem, can catch hold of the hem of His garment and truly be healed.