In 2008, an unusual ritual that lasted for over a decade started to take place in a neighborhood of Sandy, Utah, outside of Salt Lake City.
Kathy Felt, then 57, was diagnosed with secondary progressive multiple sclerosis in 1978, when her two sons were tots.
By 2006, she became so debilitated she was losing her motor functions, and her sons drove across town twice a day to help.
“It was for about a year and a half or so, maybe even more. They were getting me up in the morning and putting me to bed at night. My greatest gift and my greatest blessing of all has been my two sons.”
It was her home for four decades, and once very active, now she was wheelchair bound.
The disease took away most of the use of her arms, hands, legs and motor functions.
She lived alone and was struggling with her daily needs, and then she lost the ability to get out of bed in the morning and get back in at nights end.
She was looking at the sad possibility of having to spend the rest of her days at a care facility nursing home.
Her sons Todd and Chad told her it was okay, they wanted and insisted that they do it, but Kathy believed it was putting too much on them.
A scary time.
Then she got a knock on the door.
From neighbor Keith Pugmire.
Keith of course saw her deterioration, and was not willing to let her be forced out of her home without first seeing if there was another option.
So Keith, through neighbors, his church and social groups, got firm commitments of help from 60 local men in the neighborhood to volunteer their assistance.
They would come in teams of two every night, and help Kathy get into her bed.
They help her take off her slippers and socks. With one on each side, they would help lift her out of her wheelchair and into her bed.
Arrange everything just so.
Make her comfortable until her sons could wake her and assist with her morning routine.
Said Keith, “We just got together as a neighborhood and church group and said, ‘What can we do, Kathy, to help you and your family out?’”
Would that work?
Said Kathy, “I cried, just like now.
I was so moved. This is my miracle.”
And so it went.
Keith, now 68, an executive with Recon Dynamics, figured out a system to help
“We had no problem getting the men. As a matter of fact, we have a hard time scheduling everybody.
Her sons still come over each morning to help her out of bed.
Keith cited the 1969 song, “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother,” by the Hollies as inspiration.
“We’re all here together, and we should help each other on the journey.”
Some men were made for it, and it came to them easily.
Whilst for others, they first felt uncomfortable in a woman’s home without training.
John Keller was honest enough to admit that he did not even want to participate at first. Afraid not helping would make him look bad, he agreed.
“I had always considered myself the good person, Christian – then I realized maybe I’m not. I wanted to be a better person.” explains John.
But his attitude has since changed. Helping Kathy has helped him as well. Kathy says thanks to the generosity of the men, she finally feels good again. The efforts and kindness of the men have touched her heart in a way that she cannot repay.
Knowing exactly where and how her pillows were to be set, placing the phone and water and medicine just so and within reach, charging the wheelchair, and all the details where she will feel safe and comfortable until morning.
And then after making sure, they would lock up tight.
For weeks, months, years.
For over a decade.
The most surprising thing is that over the years, instead of having fewer neighbors volunteering to help Kathy, the numbers have gone up significantly to the point that it’s hard to get everybody a time! If that’s not the perfect community to live in, then we don’t know what is!
And for her three girlfriends who have been cleaning and shopping for her all these years.
What a neighborhood.
“I always try to remember birthdays and to get them a little card, a treat or a little gift,” she says.
Some of the volunteers’ children have also formed special bonds with Felt.
“Some of them have developed a friendship with Kathy and done pictures or letters, which she hangs up on the wall in her home,” Pugmire says. “In a lot of ways Kathy has become part of their family.”
As for Felt, she is overwhelmed with gratitude for her neighbors.
On August 27th, 2020, Kathy died in her home, surrounded by her sons.
In her own home, in her own bed.
Such a gift, considering.
Though this took place two years back, stories and tales of love and giving are timeless.
And keep giving.
Said Kathy, “I’m just so grateful for the friendship that I have with them
You just can’t put a price on that.”