By Small and Simple Things

I wanted to share an experience where someone did a small act of service for me, but it meant a lot to me.  I was shopping with my 2-year-old (which, as you can imagine, was not going well) and she was currently throwing a giant tantrum.  I was wearing my angry face while trying to find all the things on my list as fast as possible to get home.  When I was suddenly on the receiving end of a hug, I was caught completely by surprise.  I had been so busy worrying about my daughter, I hadn't noticed a sweet woman from my church.  But she had noticed me.  She said some kind words, most of which I didn't take note of, and we went our separate ways.  It lifted me a bit, to know that she noticed me struggling and didn't judge, just hugged.  This would have been a great experience had it ended there, but it didn't. 

That afternoon, she stopped by our home with a plate full of delicious cinnamon rolls.  More than the treat, however, it was the words she spoke that made this service meaningful.  She said exactly what I needed to hear, she saw straight to the heart of what I felt.

 I know a lot of times I've thought I should say something or do something and changed my mind or decided it would be too embarrassing or that I didn't know how to say it.  This woman's words and actions encouraged me to not hold those kindnesses back. 

Of Strangers, Phones, and No Sense of Direction...

Anyone who knows me well can attest that a having a great sense of direction is just not one of my gifts. I get lost... A LOT. This particular occasion it was myself and my four children crammed in a minivan on our way from Richmond, VA to Birmingham, AL. I had decided to stop over for the night with my brother-in-law and his family (who live in a small town in South Carolina) in order to make the drive more manageable. It was my first time using my phone as my GPS for a long trip, and didn't realize using it for GPS and music was draining my battery so quickly there was no way the regular car charger could keep up. Just before reaching the South Carolina border, the phone went completely dead. It only took me a few moments to realize that not only had I just lost my directions and my tunes, I had also just lost my only source of communication that could actually help me get a second set of directions. Being the resourceful (albeit directionally challenged) woman that I am, I whipped out my road atlas and figured out what roads I needed to take and what exits to get off to get me to the right town. This plan worked out beautifully until I took the last exit and entered said town, and recognized absolutely nothing. It was about 11:00 at night, the kids were all asleep in the van, and I was completely lost. The atlas was no help for local roads, so I decided to drive down the road I was on until I found a gas station where I could ask for directions or make a phone call. I drove for several miles before finding one; I went up to the doors only to discover they were locked. Here's the thing about small towns, apparently everything shuts down about 9 p.m., and there are no large grocery stores, or anything, really, one can just walk into in the middle of the night. I continued to drive that direction until there was absolutely nothing in sight; no homes, stores, or any signs of civilization, so I turned around and headed the other way. After what felt like a hundred miles (but what was in actuality more like 10-20)I finally came across a gas station with lights on and people inside. Finally, I could ask for some directions. I waited in line behind several people before reaching the counter and asking if anyone knew where the address I had was located. Nope, no clue, was the response. Now, quite desperately, I inquired if they had a phone I could use...indeed they did, but as I went to dial my home phone number, I was told the phone could not be used for long distance phone numbers. The phone number of the family I was to visit was, of course, inside the inoperable phone, which now left me with zero directions, and zero contact information. I stood dazed, attempting not to cry in the middle of the crowded gas station, as I considered my options. At this time they basically boiled down to 1. sleeping in the van in the parking lot of the gas station, or 2. attempting to find a motel in this small town, after hours. After several minutes of trying to decided what to do, I was approached by a grandfatherly-like gentleman who somehow had noticed me amid the crowd and apparently saw the distress on my face. He asked if I was lost and if I needed a phone. I choked out a grateful "yes!", and called my home, only to get no answer. The man then said he had a GPS in his car that I could use, and went out and brought it back for me to type in the address. Unfortunately, the GPS could not find a signal and was unable to locate the address and directions. About this time, his phone rang with my home number returning the call..I was able to get my brother-in-law's number and then use the man's phone to call him for verbal directions (the man supplied me with a pen and paper). The man looked at the directions I had received and said he was concerned I could still get lost because a couple of the streets I would need to turn on were not well marked, were confusing, and it was very dark. He said he knew his new smart phone had an app for directions (he didn't know how to use it, but thought I could probably figure it out), and would like me to take his phone and use it to find my brother-in-law's house, and that my family could get it back to him later. I said I definitely could not take him up on that extremely generous offer, but that I would appreciate using his app to get a visual of a map to see where I needed to go. After seeing the map, I thanked him for all his help, and started for my van. He quickly said he was on his way home and that he could at least let me follow him past the first couple of streets and make sure I got headed in the right direction. I followed him, and then the directions, and eventually made it there safe and sound, only to find out the next morning that he had called my brother in law later that evening to make sure I had made it there OK. I regret not having written down the man's name (in fact, being as upset and tired as I was, I'm not sure I ever even asked it), and didn't think until months later that I could have gotten his phone number from my brother-in-law's phone, and therefore was not ever able to properly thank him for his extraordinary kindness and tell him how much it meant to me. i will, however, never forget his generosity and caring, and try to remind myself to use his example to look for other faces in crowds who may need a phone, or some other simple kindness from a stranger.

A Governor Keeps His Word in a Big Way

Yes, you did hear that right. A politician not only kept his word, but went out of his way to do it...

My brother, Jeff, was invited by a friend to attend a Town Hall Meeting where Utah Governor Gary Herbert, and Lt. Governor Spencer Cox were in attendance. After the meeting, Jeff's friend introduced him to the Governor. The two of them hit it off quickly, and enjoyed a quick chat before deciding to have a picture taken together. There were dozens of people waiting to talk to the Governor,and by the time Jeff had his camera out and ready to go, someone had already started to talk to him. He waited a moment, but another person stepped in to speak with the Governor. Realizing, with the size of the crowd, he would most likely not get another chance to have the photo taken, Jeff decided to just go home. 45 minutes later, the doorbell to his house rang, and on the other side of the door was Governor Herbert, his body guards, and even a member of his staff! The Governor explained he came to take the pictures they had not had the chance to take earlier. Not only did he take pictures, but he also stayed and visited with Jeff and his family for about 30 minutes, including meeting Jeff's daughter and brand new grandson. Jeff recounted it as an amazing experience, and not one he will soon forget. Thank you, Governor Herbert, for reminding us that not all politicians are crooked and tainted (as we are so often led to believe), and that there still are many out there who are making an effort to do good things and keep their promises.

Montana Steps Up To Help

Our first guest blogger has arrived! Please welcome Auntie M to our blogosphere. "M" is from a beautiful little town in rural Montana, and says the following: "Today was my day to go help and do errands for a woman in town who has cancer.When the call for help went out, twice as many people than were needed said immediately that they would be happy to help."

*** Auntie M has requested that I post her stories for her. So, for her posts, even though it will show me as the author at the bottom of the post page, I will give her credit at the end of each post.

New Contributing Authors!

I am pleased to announce that several people have agreed to join this site and be contributing authors--so excited to hear their stories and good news! The author of each story will be visible at the end of each post, so readers can keep track of which story is who's... This is also a free invitation to anyone desiring to be a part of this movement to push back against the negativity that is so pervasive in our society; to be willing to pause and take notice of the random acts of kindness happening in the world around us and share them publicly in an effort to recognize that goodness not only truly does exist in this world, but is much more common than we tend to be aware of. Anyone desiring to post (even if it's just a couple of sentences, or even just one time) we would love to hear your stories--simply send your email address to kelleena29@gmail.com (this address was created solely for this purpose) I will add you as an author and then delete the information so as to protect your privacy...no one will be able to access your info, and I will not use it for any other purpose. Happy "spotting" all!

The One Day Miracle

This is a story about one of the most beautiful miracles I have ever witnessed. It is a story of community, of love, of mercy, and of the compassion of strangers for someone in need. I was privileged enough to see it all first hand, for it all began with one simple phone call... I have a friend (we'll call her "J") who's profession involves working with individuals and families in their homes and trying to connect them to services they need. This particular evening, I received a phone call that would impact both of us more than we could have ever expected. She called me with a problem; she had come across a mother and child in a desperate situation...no furniture to speak of, deplorable living situation, and no food in the cupboards. This friend has known me for quite sometime, is vaguely familiar with my church, and has had several positive experiences with our missionaries. She knew our missionaries like to give volunteer service, and was wondering if they would be able/willing to help do some cleaning, etc. at this home. I knew the missionaries would be happy to help, but I asked how the other needs were going to be met. She wasn't sure; the services she was trying to set up had a loophole that was going to take at least a couple of weeks to sort through. She was personally trying to help out with a few food items here and there on her own limited budget. I told her about the Relief Society of my church, and how the organization's entire existence is built around trying to relieve suffering. She was amazed and asked if I thought they might be able to help her maybe get a week's worth of food for this family.I know and love these women so well, that I guaranteed her it would happen. I also told her I would ask about donations of furniture, and that I would post the info. to my neighborhood internet page (I am blessed to live in a neighborhood of exceptional and very giving people who I had seen come together several times in support of worthy causes). I put the word out to my church family and neighborhood that very evening; I gave brief details of the situation, and explained donations could be dropped off to my house and then would be sent on to the family. We needed the donations ASAP, as the circumstances were dire, and though hoping for at least some donations by the following evening, we realized this was giving everyone very little time to respond. I expected a few people to drop by with perhaps a bag of some leftover cans from their cupboards to help out, and would have been grateful for any small offering given. What actually happened still brings tears to my eyes as I recollect the details. My doorbell began ringing the next morning and continued throughout the day. Bags and bags and bags of food were dropped off by church members and neighbors alike. A friend of mine dropped by with fresh fruits and vegetables stating how hard it must be to not have any fresh food. Gallons of milk were donated; cheese, a whole turkey, chicken, ground beef, some extra hygiene items and things I would have never thought of like paper towels and dish soap were brought by. My next door neighbors brought by a bed. Some neighbors down the street donated a beautiful couch set, and several other items were donated, until they had enough to furnish a whole apartment. One donation, in particular, which touched me the most was by a woman I know, who called and asked if I could stop by. She was a widow, living with a disability, who was barely scraping by herself. When I knocked on her door, I was greeted with a large bag of food items she wished to donate, which I know was given at great sacrifice...It reminded me of the story of the "widow's mite", and how her gift of all she had was truly the most beautiful gift of all. Another friend stopped by with $100 "for whatever they were still in need of". By that evening, my living room was full from end to end and stacked about 2 feet high all the way across with dry food items. My fridge and outdoor freezer were packed, and my garage was full of furniture. As I began sorting the food and items, the story became even more incredible: While one person had brought a turkey, another had brought stuffing, and still another some cranberry sauce. Ground beef was donated, as were taco shells, lettuce, tomatoes, and shredded cheese (all from different sources), and on and on...so many complete meals, completely unintentionally. People brought by drinks and treats so they had something to look forward to and smile about (someone remarked that everyone could use a little chocolate every now and again...). By the end of the sorting and tallying, it was estimated there was over a month and a half's food donated in just 24 hours. I called "J" and let her know that I had some items for her to pick up for the family. When she walked into my house and saw the living room full to the brim with food, she broke down into tears. She said she had never seen anything like that...in all of her years of helping people in need and finding them resources, what would have taken her months of going through red tape and paperwork and outreach to even attempt to get those kind of items, these incredible, generous, loving strangers were able to accomplish in just 24 hours. What I wouldn't give to be able to go back in time and take a picture of it all so you could see it. The scene that remains in my memory, however, stands as a memorial in my mind of the beauty and good of humanity. With all the horrors we hear about so often, and the negativity we are bombarded with everyday, it only takes a moment for me to remember that miracle, and so many others like it, that prove to me how many good people there really are out there.Yes, there are ugly exceptions of course, but I truly believe that at its core, humanity is not a lost cause...more people are good, caring, loving human beings than we give credit for. I say let's be different. Let's go against the grain of society and the media that will tell us to fear each other, to question motives, and assume the worst. Instead, let's dare to open our eyes and our hearts to see the everyday kindnesses that so often go unnoticed. Let us herald the acts of courage, honesty, and goodness that are happening all around us, and show the world there is still hope.

Coming Soon...

It was recently gently brought to my attention that posting once every 6 months isn't really an acceptable way to run a blog... So, I have decided to step it up and commit to posting on the 1st Sunday of every month (unless said Sunday is on a holiday, vacation, emergency, etc., in which case I'll just get to it as soon as I can ;)). Since it's already past the first of this month, and because I have a really good story that shouldn't have to wait, I'll post this month's this Sunday. Thanks for your patience and hanging in there with me...

NOT Jack-the Ripper...

The entirety of this post is not only to highlight an exceptional person who performed an act of kindness, but also to make a point that God DEFINITELY has a sense of humor... It's the beginning of September of last year (2014), it is late at night and I am needing to go out to the grocery store. I am dragging my feet because 1. I have a newly injured foot that just that day got put into a boot and hurts like crazy, and 2. I am a tad bit paranoid about parking lots at late night hours (I am from Las Vegas folks...'nuff said). So as part of my procrastination, I begin telling some of the stories of why I am paranoid to begin with (my parents were very proactive about letting me know true stories of things that have happened and how to protect myself from them so I could have some street smarts as a teen--which totally worked btw--but also made me kinda hyper-paranoid). There is in particular one story where a man targeted women in parking lots that always bothered me, so I have always been a keys-in-hand, well-lit-spot, be-aware-of-surroundings,check-the-back-seat kinda gal, but as I related the story that evening, it was giving me the heebie-jeebies, and I still had to go out. I finally get to the store, well past midnight, intending to only grab a couple of things and get out of there as quickly as possible. I glance at the handi-cap wheel-chair/cart-thing and consider it for a half-second before my pride says "heck no!" and I walk on. The items I need are at the back of the store, and about half way back I realize I am never going to make it; it seems the walking boot they put me in has aligned my foot in such a way that I am walking directly on the injury and the pain is so bad I can't take a full step on it anymore. It's now too far for me to go back for the handi-cart, and I am in so much pain I don't know what to do. I decide that since I am half way there I am just going to have to tough it out and somehow make it. My first solution is to put most of my weight on my arms and use the cart like a walker to put as little pressure on that foot as possible...this works for a while until my arms are shaking (that cart is a whole lot taller than a walker folks!). Next, I try hopping on the good foot as I push the cart (yep, that didn't last too long either--but I'm pretty sure the people there got some good entertainment). At this point my arms and good foot are tired, and I am in I'm-going-to-fight-the-tears-back kind of pain, so I hang part of my upper body over the push bar of the cart and use my good foot to just push me along (at this point y'all are wishing you were there to see this...). I somehow manage to get my stuff and check out, and as I am leaving, my sixth sense tells me that a gentleman I saw a few times in the store is behind me at a distance. Now, I wasn't in so much pain that my conversation from earlier that evening wasn't still fresh in my mind, so I am keeping him in my peripheral view as I scout out witnesses and good lighting and quickly locate the panic button on my keys as he continues to follow me towards my vehicle. I quickly unlock my car and unload groceries at record-breaking speed, only to glance up and see that the man is now only a few feet away...my heart about stops as he reaches out his hand and begins to speak...It goes something like this "Uh, can I take your cart back for you? I saw you in the store and you looked like you were really struggling and in pain...I would have approached you there and like offered to carry you or something except I was pretty sure you would like try to punch me or something, so I thought I should just make sure you made it to your car ok and safe and all..." As he put away the cart he noticed my husbands (BYU) license plate cover and asked about the school and if we were Mormon; when I confirmed, he told me he was too and that he had just started going to a new building and we discovered it was my exact congregation...yep, my would-be-imaginary-serial-murderer, turned out to not only be a thoroughly nice fellow, but a new member of my church family...go figure. I'm pretty sure God got a good chuckle out of that one...