SMALL AND SIMPLE

 

Years ago, a young woman in our congregation shared a powerful message about making a difference in the things we do.  She spoke a little about Mother Teresa’s work in the slums of Calcutta, India, where Mother Teresa worked to meet the needs of the destitute and starving, people who were full of suffering and despair.  Mother Teresa’s little group, the Missionaries of Charity, were not able to relieve the needs of the overwhelming crowds of naked, hungry, and homeless people whose privations stretched far beyond the Charity’s resources. 

However, Mother Teresa responded to criticism directed at how insignificant her help was compared to the need, by saying that welfare was about numbers, but Christian love was about Christ.  Mother Teresa served the one within her reach, doing the best she could with what she had.

That was the first time I had ever heard Mother Teresa’s quote about her humble service making a difference in the world, a little bit at a time.

She said:  “What we do is nothing but a drop in the ocean.  But if we didn’t do it, the ocean would be one drop less.”  

I am an aphorism addict.  And this aphorism has left a lasting impression on me because of its short and memorable truth about life.

Sometimes we think that our own making a difference in the world has to be at a time when we think we are all grown up enough or educated enough or financially able enough to do that.  But consider the possibility of making a difference in the world in the context of the here and now and in the small and simple. 

Jesus Christ taught us to love and serve the one within our reach simply by the things He did during His lifetime.  He sat with people.  He listened patiently to them. He spent time in the home of His friends. He responded with kindness, understanding, and love.  He showed compassion and gave comfort.

There was nothing negligible about His service. Likewise, there is nothing negligible about the simple acts of kindness and assistance that you and I offer to those around us on a daily basis, whether it’s reaching out to a family member at home or someone elsewhere who has had a difficult day and needs someone to listen.  Or maybe it's when we slow down so that guy who tries to get into our lane at the last minute doesn’t miss his exit. Maybe it’s the clerk at the store who might be a little slow or new at the job and needs some patience and understanding.  There are people all over for whom we can make a difference in their world.

Church leader David O. McKay often gave this quote,

“Life is made up not of great sacrifices or duties, but of little things in which smiles and kindness and small obligations given habitually are what win and preserve the heart and secure comfort.” 

It truly is the small and simple things that make a difference.

On one occasion when I was a flight attendant for United Airlines, we had started flying in the early morning with a last leg that was a short hop from Chicago to Des Moines.  We arrived in the late afternoon—early enough for me to go out on a walk.  And for some reason that day I had such a hankering for a taco!  I hurried and changed out of my uniform and asked at the hotel desk where I could find a Taco Bell or other Mexican fast-food place.  We were in a downtown hotel and the young desk clerk said there was a Taco John’s, but it was pretty far away, like a mile or so.  He said if I waited, though, he would take me in the hotel van when it came back from the airport.  I laughed.  A mile?!  That was NOTHING for me.  But there was one caveat—the main roads were all torn up.  However, he suggested I could follow the detour and maybe get to Taco John's that way.

And off I went.  It must have been fall because I passed the busy campaign headquarters for a local candidate.  And the temperature was dropping about as fast as the sun was setting. I knew I had walked way more than a mile.  Yet, in spite of seeing wrappers on the ground from various fast-food places, there had been NOTHING like that in sight along the way.  I was wishing I hadn’t started out on that quest for a taco.  It was soon going to be full dark.  I just wanted to be back at the hotel!

While I was walking along, I started thinking about a story my son had told me a friend shared with him. His friend was running some kind of a Marathon or Triathlon and at some point, deep into the race, felt like he wasn’t going to be able to go on.  At each step he felt weaker and weaker and was sure he was going to pass out.  Suddenly, an angel was there by his side encouraging him and then ran every step of the way to the end of the race with him.  My son's friend said he would never have been able to finish the race without this angel.  Turns out, the angel was his wife.

As I thought about this experience my son told me about his friend, I was wishing I had some angel that was going to show up and shoulder my load for me!  And, the next thing I knew, a van pulled up along-side of me and asked if I would like a ride.  It was the hotel van!  When this driver had returned to the hotel with his load of guests, the first young man I had talked to told him about my taking off to go find Mexican fast food.  Knowing that the roads were a mess, the second young man—the driver of this van—took off to find me.  He even told me he would be happy to take me to Taco John’s.  Nah!  By that time, I had lost my desire for tacos.  “Just take me to the hotel, I’ll get a bite to eat there.”

What a small and simple gesture on that young man’s part.  What a great rescue for me!  I have never forgotten how he had listened to some prompting—after all I was a grown woman and could get an Uber or a Lyft or even catch a bus.  Flight attendants stayed at their hotel all the time.  Why would he be concerned about me?  

But what a difference it made to me that night.  What a difference it has made to me since when some prompting comes for me to help when it isn’t easy or convenient.  I think of my “angel” on that occasion and press on to help someone who needs care.

Small and simple doesn’t mean easy.  It really doesn’t.  But small and simple things can become our most valued life experiences. 

Again, we don’t have to wait for the most favorable circumstances in our lives to make a difference. It’s the love of Christ that makes the difference.

I invite you to follow Christ’s example in reaching out to those around us. Like Mother Teresa said, Christlike love transforms our simple, everyday living into something extraordinary. 

Think on these often-quoted words from Spencer W. Kimbal

“God does notice us, and he watches over us.  But it is usually through another person that he meets our needs.  Therefore, it is vital that we serve each other in the kingdom…So often, our acts of service consist of simple encouragement or of giving mundane help with mundane tasks, but what glorious consequences can flow from mundane acts and from small but deliberate deeds!”

Small and simple translates into MIGHTY-every time!

HALLOWEEN MADNESS!!

 I've never kept it a secret that Halloween was my least favorite holiday of the year.  I think it began when I was just a little girl.  I didn't like to draw attention to myself, and I felt that happened when I put on a costume.

My mother, though, loved Halloween, and spent a lot of time making costumes for all of us.  My sisters were lots older than I was, so we're talking adult costumes, too, even when I was little.  I remember the year my mom was Mae West.  She even had a very realistic mask, and the rest of the outfit made it totally authentic.  Not surprisingly, she and my sisters always won prizes for the best costumes.

Our congregation used to have a yearly Halloween party, and I can remember how my mother and sisters and one brother-in-law would talk about the fun they had at those parties--and then all of them going Trick or Treating afterward, sneaking down alleys and through backyards.  (Not sure if my mom did that part, though.)   Frankly, I was shocked to hear of these activities!  I always thought it sounded like it would be fun, but in reality, it wasn't for me.

About the time I started school, the stores sold primitive-looking costumes made out of a cheesecloth type of material.  Very sleazy looking, and easy to rip because they weren't sewn very well.  I really wanted one of those costumes, but my mother already had plans for a great costume for me as "The Little Match Girl" straight out of one of the fairy tales.  As I look back on the event, that costume was totally superb to what the other kids had from the store, but I was a stupid five-year old.  Couldn't convince me...

My sister Lois and her husband Dale always made a fuss over me like I was their kid, as they didn't have any kids of their own at the time.  They came to our school for the kindergarten party with their new movie camera to take pictures of my class's Halloween parade.  Imagine their surprise when I sallied by the camera without anything left of my costume but the skirt! 

I got flak for years from the whole family for that incident.  No one EVER forgot!

Halloween comes when it is knocking on November's door.  ALWAYS plenty cold by then in Wyoming.  And for many years, it had already snowed by October 31st.  That meant I had to wear snow boots and a heavy coat over my costume.  Uncomfortable. Plus, I was wimpy and didn't like to go out Trick or Treating in the cold anyway.  I just wanted to stay home in the warm house.

Every mother made her specialty for the treat to give out.  My mother's was popcorn balls.  They were hard to chew because my mom's recipe was for the syrup to get to a hard ball stage before it was poured over the popcorn.  Lacerated my teeny mouth.  Not fun from that angle either.  Discomfort all around...

Halloween candy at that time was what they called Penny Candy.  Nothing good like Snickers or Milky Ways.  Those were full-sized bars, and only one house in the neighborhood gave those out as they cost ten cents apiece.

Since I wasn't really keen on candy anyway, I never got around to eating the stuff after I DID go Trick or Treating.  But heaven forbid that I should share it with the family either.  So, it just sat around and got old.  I usually threw it out just before Christmas.  When more yukky candy showed up in my Christmas stocking.

Then I got older.  

Some Halloweens at college were really great!  I had a lot of fun at those parties and get-togethers. 

Then I had kids...and my opinion didn't change much about not being keen on the holiday itself.  But I did make sure Halloween was fun for them, sewing great costumes and making sure we had good treats to hand out, as well as having the best part of the holiday--a Spook Dinner.  Now that was a riot!

When I flew for United Airlines, that was one holiday I didn't mind when I had to work.  That's when Louis began to answer the door on Halloween.  He's really into passing out the candy, and has a good time talking to the kids about their costumes, etc.  The only bad thing is that every year fewer and fewer kids come around the neighborhood.  Safety, I guess.  That's why the school and the church all have Trunk or Treat--to make sure everyone has a good time and is safe.  But Louis has already purchased his full-sized bars for this Halloween.  No yukky candy at this house!

All told, it's a great night for me to be upstairs all by myself reading a good book.  Currently, THAT is my idea of a Halloween celebration!  Oh, with a yummy donut and a cup of hot chocolate in hand.  I'm really easy to please....

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

NATIVITY FESTIVAL

BACKGROUND OF POST

The editor of a life-style magazine in a neighboring city reached out to our local

 Church leaders in an attempt to find material for their Holiday/December edition

 about diverse religious groups in our area and now they celebrate the season..

   

In the course of their search for suitable candidates, my name and my biennial

 Nativity Festival came up.  I was contacted for possible inclusion in the magazine

 article.  I subsequently submitted pictures and a short essay about my beautiful

 collection of over 500 Nativity -related sets. 

Though the magazine was looking for something less specific than one person's

 celebration of Christmas, this invitation gave me an opportunity to give a short

 review of the background of my Christmas delight over the years.

WHY I CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS WITH A NATIVITY FESTIVAL 

AS AN EXPRESSION OF MY CHRISTMAS-KEEPING!

I was a young married woman with two little boys ages two and four when the

 Women’s Auxiliary in our Congregation invited me to teach a Christmas lesson

 about the birth of the Savior.  By the time I had studied for that assignment,

 including commentary about Mary and Joseph plus the art music and literature

 dedicated to the birth of Jesus, my idea of how to celebrate Christmas had

 completely changed.

Growing up I had been a Santa Claus kind of kid, focusing more on the presents

 and the parties with just a passing thought that we were supposed to be

 celebrating the advent of Christ.

After that transforming experience, it was my desire to have a beautiful Nativity

 set and make my focus the true meaning of Christmas.  But we were a young

 family with no money in the budget for something as splendid as that.  So, my

 husband went into the back yard, cut a small branch and made a stable out of

 twigs and bark.  We made people out of cardboard cones topped by painted

 beads for heads and let our toddlers help dress them in scraps from my sewing

 basket.  Then we raided the toy box, and put farm animals into the stable.  One

 of the Wisemen carried a screw covered in aluminum foil, another held a shiny

 piece of gold cardboard.  The third had a foil-wrapped bouillon cube for his

 offering.

We displayed that crude little Nativity set every Christmas for a long time until it

 became a family tradition.

Several years later our family had the fortuitous experience of living in Europe a

 couple of times.  When we returned from our adventures, we had many beautiful

 keepsakes as reminders of those wonderful opportunities with my husband’s

 work.  However, it is our Christmas collection from Sweden and Germany that

 have become the most prized reminders of our time abroad.

My first desire was to share those Christmas keepsakes with friends and

 neighbors, so I decided to invite them to come to our home and share the

 delightful Christmas experiences we had had through a display of our treasures.

  Among them were lovely Nativity sets. That was in the late 1980’s and continued

 in that same way for a few years.

But over the ensuing years as I collected additional Christmas Nativity sets during

 my own travels, the display expanded into a biennial Nativity Festival that fills our

 home every other year with only our lovely Nativity-related pieces that now

 number about 500. That includes Nativity decorations for three trees. Plus, I have

 been the happy recipient of many Nativity sets from friends who have gifted me

 with those special reminders from their travels around the world! 

Then I began to be more intentional about this sacred opportunity to bear

 testimony of Christ’s birth on that auspicious occasion so long ago.  An invitation

 to a broader audience seemed appropriate.  Hence, a flyer as specific invitation

 with dates and times our home would be open is delivered by hand—and now

 also through email and other social media—to a broader audience.  I have even

 put the flyers on the bulletin boards of local businesses with great success.

At a time when the sacred event of Christ’s birth is almost all but forgotten during

 the busy Christmas season, I am grateful for an occasion to celebrate Christ’s

 birth with the attention it deserves in our hectic world of Christmas elves and

 gnomes and woodland animals. 

I have sensed the same gratitude from the visitors who have come to our home to

 commemorate a genuine, Christ-centered Christmas with us.

That “ONE WONDERFUL NIGHT” of the Savior’s birth is truly a reason to rejoice!

Georgia Nichols 

Johnstown, Colorado

October 2024

LIFE-CHANGING TRANSFORMATION

 

“There are times in our lives when the right words spoken at the right moment can transform us.  They challenge us at a crossroads, carry us through times of sorrow, or dare us to action.”

Don’t know who said this, but the message was tailor-made at one very important juncture in my life. I had this experience when I was beginning my junior year at Brigham Young University in 1966.

I had always wanted to be a high school English teacher.  But the Teacher Education 301B class I took that semester, which was supposed to be the magical OPEN SESAME to that dream, crushed my long-held goal.  I didn’t like the class.  And THAT is a mild statement!  I HATED the class! 

It was full of “student measurements”, Maeger Objectives, which was totally off-base with what I thought an English teacher was supposed to do—teach literature and grammar—the loves of my academic life.  By mid-term I was doing poorly.  That was bad enough, but my family, my roommates (it seemed like everyone) were pushing for me to “certify to be a teacher anyway” so I would have something to “fall back on” if I didn’t get a job somewhere else.  That sounded awful.

But even worse was a series of situations which arose just prior to the visit my professor had scheduled because of my mid-term grade.  By the time I got to Professor Holder’s office, I was already in a bad spot.  So, when he said, “I perceive you are not happy in this class,” I started to bawl.  A flood of tears. Loud sniffles.  Runny nose. Smeared mascara.  Yet Professor Holder simply opened his desk drawer, put a box of tissues in front of me and said, “When you are finished, we’ll talk.”  He even sent his TA to class to tell the students there would be no class that day.

After I was able to pull myself together, I explained the squeeze I was feeling from my own change of mind and the push from well-meaning others who were encouraging me to just forge ahead.  I expected him to give me the same pep talk.  Instead, he told me if I couldn’t be the kind of teacher I wanted my children to have, "then DON’T be a teacher."

At last!  Permission to go a different direction which I confided to him was an interest in libraries.  He encouraged me with the right words when I was at a crossroads—dared me to action—and my life was transformed. 

The rest is history.  I still kept my English major, but I completed a Library Science minor instead of Secondary Education, graduated in May 1968, moved to Denver the end of August that year with no job prospect but I still came out on top.

Within two days of arriving in Denver, I had found an apartment and snagged a job as a Library Assistant at one of three Bibliographical Centers for Research in the country.  In addition to those major obstacles, by the time two weeks was over I had met my first husband Ross, became the organist for my congregation, and was well on my way to the great life in store for me which included a half dozen outstanding kids, experiences all over the world, and much satisfaction because of the change in my direction that fall day in 1966. 

All because of the Lord’s hand guiding me along the way—even though I didn’t give Him enough credit until much later.  I was sooo oblivious to His laser-like assistance through every step.  But now I can’t even imagine how my life might have turned out if I’d had to do all the orchestrating on my own. 

That was a very memorable and significant time the Lord’s hand was in my life.  I am eternally grateful for all those blessings!

LIFE-CHANGING TRANSFORMATION INDEED....

FALL

 

I was asked to give a short reflection on "WHY I LOVE FALL…" at the special September Activity held by the Women's Auxiliary in my Congregation.  The get-together featured everything FALL from food, to crafts, to favorite memories.  

I accepted the invitation, but for the life of me just couldn't paint a glorious picture about Fall.  So, this is what I shared...

 

I NEVER liked Fall!  

Because Fall in my life when I grew up on the high windy plateaus of South Central Wyoming was a meteorological season based on the annual temperature cycle. So, Autumn or Fall, for example, would run September through November, which makes perfect sense to me.

About the only thing I did like about Fall was the start of school the day after Labor Day, because I LOVED school.  But it wasn’t long after school began that the temperature dropped dramatically, the cottonwood and elm trees turned an ugly brown, and the wind picked up with a vengeance blowing the leaves into a mostly dirt-filled screen that pelted our faces and tried to rip our jackets off as we walked to and from school.  Snow wasn’t far behind and was often a heavy accumulation.

By the 31^st of October it was pretty much winter.  Halloween Trick or Treating was no fun because it was cold, windy, and we often tramped door to door in snow.  Plus, our winter coats and snowsuits completely eliminated any hint of the terrific Halloween costumes we were wearing.  Probably why Halloween is my LEAST favorite holiday!

When I left home for my Freshman year at BYU, my dad and I packed my stuff into his truck camper on the evening of the 14^th of September.  I was supposed to report at my dorm on the 15^th, so we planned to leave early, early the next morning for the 8-hour trip.  Only, we woke up to a terrible snowstorm.  Nevertheless—I’m sure because of my whining and lamenting that I just HAD to be in Provo that very day—my dad and I left home in snow so blinding it was difficult to even see the road ahead.  I’m still surprised that Interstate 80 wasn’t closed!  

It took us 8 hours just to get to my sister’s house in Green River, Wyoming, which was only 125 miles away and normally only a two- hour drive.  There we spent the night, grateful to be safely off the road.  We woke up the next morning to brilliant sunshine and a landscape completely covered in white, but the roads were clear.  We made it to Provo without any other delays and arrived at a "snow-less" campus busy welcoming students.  My 24-hour interruption in plans wasn’t even an issue.  I checked into my dorm without fanfare, bid my dad goodbye, and went about the business of college life.

So, you see that early winter blizzard the Willy and Martin Mormon Pioneer Handcart companies encountered on the 19^th of October, 1856, coming across the Wyoming plains was simply nothing short of “normal”.  It was devastating to the pioneers because, even though the companies left later in the year than they should have, no one expected the weather to be deep snow and freezing temperatures.  They weren’t prepared for that.  They had hoped—and prayed—they could outrun the possibility of bad weather.  Don’t mess with Mother Nature!

As for my four years as a BYU student in Provo, Utah, Fall wasn’t too bad for the most part.  It was often downright nice with some colored leaves on the trees and yellow scrub Oak on the mountain.  I even remember a November day at the football game being downright hot in my lovely sweater dress! (Everyone dressed up to go see the Cougars play.  In fact, most events at BYU at that time were dress-up occasions.)

When I went to Denver to work after I graduated from BYU, Fall was mostly colorful with pleasant temperatures, though some years there was that freakish early snowstorm which had a tendency to freeze all the foliage and leave a lot of tree damage.  But those storms didn’t last long, and there were many days plentiful with sunshine and deep blue skies.  My older daughter got married on one of those days--ironically it was October 19, 1997.

THEN I moved to Virginia.  It was September when we arrived, and all the world was still green.  When the leaves turned, it was a kaleidoscope of color—Maple, Ash, Redbud, Hickory, and Black Walnut trees burst with red, orange, and purple in addition to the yellows which made everything spectacular.

My 5^th child was born on October 21^st in Newport News.  As uncomfortable as I was on that long trip to Riverside Hospital, (let’s face it, I was in PAIN) still I couldn’t get over what an awesome panoramic view we had while driving down the Colonial Parkway which was flanked by those beautiful trees in their gorgeous Fall raiment.  It was breathtaking!

After THAT we moved to southern Sweden.  In spite of the fact that the colors in Scandinavia are not as intense as I’ve seen in other parts of the world, the Beech, Oak, Ash, Birch, Spruce, and Pine combined to make really lovely Fall landscapes.  I always thought of the vista there as being “lacy”.  And an added bonus for Fall in Skone were the Christmas markets that began in early November.  What fun that was!

Next, we moved to upstate New York where Goldspire, and Royal Purple Smoke Trees as well as the common deciduous trees like Ash, Maple, Beech, Birch and Oak were plentiful.  Here we could actually rake up HUGE piles of colorful leaves to jump in and feed into giant bonfires.  Oh Fall…how beautiful it was then.  I loved that we were able to do all the fun things I used to just read about in books—the wagon rides, the barnyard visits, and the spiced cider as we mingled with friends and neighbors.

Moving to West Berlin, Germany, brought back the heavy, heavy colors we had seen in Virginia and New York.  And I will never forget the yellow gold of the Linden Trees which lined Unter Den Linden, the road which leads from West to East Belin through the Brandenburg Gate—though when we lived there the Wall was still up and you couldn’t go all the way down to the end of the road.  But the glimpse into the horizon with the golden Linden trees forming a canopy was still spectacular.

No wonder October Fest is such a great occasion in Germany.  All that color made for a fine backdrop to a fun celebration!

So, no, I never liked Fall—until I moved to other places and saw the beauty of Fall as it was intended to be, not cut short with premature frost and debilitating early snow.

Now I love Fall!  I can appreciate the deep blue skies and bright sunshine with pleasant temperatures when that’s on the weather menu.  When the weather menu calls for cold temps and snow, I know it usually won’t last.  The sun will come out again and make for a beautiful prelude to my favorite holiday—THANKSGIVING—which signals the end of Fall!

But I still don’t like Halloween….

BLUE RIBBON MOM!

 

I've been going through stuff down the basement--a little bit at a time, as it is SO overwhelming what I have tucked away through the years.  

I found this list in the small box of Jeremy's things I saved.  Things which were important to Jeremy when he was alive.  I think the list might have been a project his Primary class did for a Mother's Day gift.  I'm guessing this was a year or so before he died.

I enjoyed reading what he wrote and got a kick out of his spelling, as well as the reasons he came up with that he thought I was a great MOM.  A few of the reasons are pretty generic, but I can tell he put a lot of thought into what he listed.  

Number 13--I had recently made drapes for the bedroom he and Schuyler shared.  He thought they were cool and liked them a lot.

Number 12--Though he was outgoing and in the thick of things at home with five siblings, when he was away from the family, he was kind of shy.  We had talked about what he could do to make friends at school.

I think the first reason says I help him obey.

In all, this was a pretty nostalgic find for me.  We only got to have Jeremy with us for 10 short years.  And now that 37 years have gone by since he fell out of that old Cottonwood tree, it was a loving reminder from the past about a cute, blond headed, freckle-faced boy with the most beautiful deep blue eyes who ran and played and rode a bike--and climbed a tree.

Someday I will see him again.

That will be a #1 BLUE RIBBON award, for sure!

Jeremy’s list of great things about Mom—from a Primary class, probably during third grade.               

He also drew a #1 Blue Ribbon Award on the page.

A Tale of Serendipity

 

I play the organ for my Church congregation on Sundays.  Often when I am at the chapel during the week to practice for the coming Sunday's service, there is some activity in the parking lot. Though I am usually the only person inside the chapel itself during the time I practice, I am not always alone.   

The parking lot is fairly spacious, so kids ride their bikes or skateboards unimpeded by traffic.  People walk their dogs in this semi-shady area.  Now and again the groundskeepers are mowing the lawns or trimming the bushes.  And once in a while, workers who are looking to get out of the sun and have a quick rest will sit in their cars to eat their lunch.

One beautiful Saturday morning at the beginning of summer, I came out of the chapel after practicing the organ and noticed two women sitting on the curb resting.  There was no car in the parking lot, so I was surprised to see them there.  They greeted me and asked me what time Church Services began on Sunday.  

I told them three congregations met in that chapel on Sunday:  9:00 am, 10:30 am, and noon.  "But," I told them "my husband and I attend the 9 am meetings during which I play the organ."  Then I extended an invitation for them to come at that time and attend Church with us.

We chatted for a few minutes by way of introduction.   "Are you visiting family here?"  No.  Laura Monroe shared that she had just lost her husband recently, and her friend Heidi Lynn, who had lost her husband last year had agreed to accompany her from San Antonio, Texas, to Shelly, Idaho, where Laura's husband had relatives.  Their principal business in this area was to meet Laura's brother-in-law who was going to help her sell her motor home on the following day. 

After some more pleasantries--and condolences--the two women took off on foot for the rest of their walk.

And that was when I slapped my forehead in utter disbelief of myself!  I pray every day that I may be an instrument in the Lord's hand to assist whoever might need a helping hand.  Here was a perfect opportunity--and I had basically dissed the Lord who had put two women right in front of me!  Two women who might like to have some friends for a day.  WHY didn't I ask if I could drive them to their motel?  WHY didn't I invite them to come to our home and spend the afternoon, so they didn't have to stare at the walls of a cramped hotel room.  WHY hadn't I told them we would pick them up for Church the next morning and also extend a dinner invitation for after Sunday meetings?   WHY, WHY, WHY?   I'm just no good at extending myself.  I do that kind of inclusion so infrequently: I don't even know how to do it!

So, I started to pray mightily that my new friends Laura and Heidi WOULD come to 9 am services the following morning.  I would be prepared--in advance--to invite them to Sunday dinner for a meal that I would already have cooking.  If they said "no", at least I would have made the effort to treat them as our guests.  

"Please...let me make up for my initial failure to invite them when I should have," was the mantra that played over and over in my head the rest of the day as my husband and I rushed to the grocery store to buy the ingredients for a favorite meal that was easy to fix, but really hit the spot in its simplicity.  

When we got home, I started prepping for Sunday dinner, first by preparing the roast with all its special seasonings for the crock pot to be turned on at the crack of dawn.  Then I prepared the salad, got out a special cloth and dishes to set the table after Church, and went to bed still asking forgiveness for not picking up on the promptings while I was with Heidi and Laura in the church parking lot.

I decided to walk to Church early the following morning so I could prepare the organ stops and mark the hymnal at all the right numbers.  Just as I was coming up the sidewalk that approached the front doors of the chapel, Lo and Behold, there were Laura and Heidi approaching the front door from the opposite direction!  I was sooo happy to see them.  First part of my fervent prayer answered!

Right then my husband Louis drove up. I introduced them to him and left him to get Laura and Heidi settled in the chapel while I hurried to the organ.  When the service was over, I went to the classroom for instruction and saw the two women sitting near the back with an empty seat beside them--for me!  With great gusto I introduced them to the rest of the class as my new friends--and gave a little rundown as to how we had met "just yesterday" when they walked from their motel to the chapel to see what time Church was scheduled for today's meetings.

At the end of the meeting block that day, I wasted no time inviting my two new friends to Sunday dinner at 3 pm.  They accepted, and we drove them to the motel so they could rest before Louis went back to pick them up in time for our planned meal.

But wait....!  My bad luck as a cook kicked in once again.  So, dinner wasn't the smooth little repast that I had in mind.  Yes, I prepped the night before so I could plug in the crock pot at precisely 5 am and the meat could slow-cook until it was so tender it could be shredded with a fork.  Nuh uh....  When we got home about 11:30 am from dropping our friends off at the motel--which was quite a walk for them, at least five plus miles each way--I discovered my latest culinary mistake.  I DID plug the crock pot in, but I forgot to turn it "ON".  

In a panic, I turned the heat to high so the roast could cook in five hours, which it did but turned out dry and tough.  Not the juicy piece of seasoned beef that was supposed to fall apart after 8 hours of slow cooking.  Oh, and I forgot all about the coleslaw which is supposed to be the filling with the meat for the sliders.  Chips were fine.  And the Orange-Shake 'Em Up Bars turned out okay, I guess.  They seemed to hit the spot for dessert.  Actually, the food was secondary to the satisfying opportunity to host strangers who soon  became friends.  

Really, none of that black cloud over the food preparation mattered at all.  What mattered is that I had been able to make good my promise that if the Lord would direct me, I would reach out to any person that came into my path. 

Not only were Laura and Heidi delightful guests, they were fun to visit with as we learned more about them and they learned about us.  It was a long shot from being any kind of sacrifice as we extended ourselves to these delightful women.

All too soon it was time for us to return Heidi and Laura to their motel.  They were expecting the buyer for the motor home about 6 pm.  And the following morning they would be on their way to Shelly, Idaho, where they would spend time with the Munroe Family.  Heidi was slated to stay until the first week in July and then return to Texas without Laura.

"Goodbye!  Goodbye!  Thank you for letting us take you in for a day.  Please stop by any time you are here again."  And they also said the same for us if we get to Texas.  

It was all over before I realized I had made the second mistake--I forgot   to chronicle this special event with even one snapshot to record a most remarkable occasion!

However, words sometimes paint their own pictures.  Later that day Laura texted the following message:  

Dear Georgia & Louis,

I'm so very grateful for your gift of loving friendship--inviting Heidi and me into your home for dinner, driving us back and forth, and sharing experiences.

You immediately warmly welcomed us as family.

Talking with you, sharing our different thoughts was more soothing than I can express, especially at this time when I needed it most.

I treasure this day and God's special gift of bringing you into my & Heidi's lives.

We love you and look forward to when we'll meet again.  You'll always have a place to stay with me when visiting Shelley ID or San Antonio (Floresville) TX. 

With Love, 

Laura 

And my reply:

Oh, Laura...the pleasure and sense of friendship was on our end, as well.  Thank you, thank you for responding to two strangers.  We will certainly stay in touch...and with Heidi, too!

A few days later I texted Laura again, saying I hoped that their trip to Shelly was pleasant and expressed my feelings again that the previous weekend was a real treasure when we met both her and Heidi.

Laura then replied that they had loved visiting with me and Louis.  She then went on to say that we had made that segment of their journey beautiful with our kind and loving spirit.  A "highlight" was her word choice.  Then she added a wish of blessings for us.

One night not too long after our wonderful visit with Laura and Heidi, I wrote the entire experience on my tablet in preparation for posting it on my blog.  But, I clicked something on the tablet that accidentally--and totally erased the entire story except for the first three paragraphs.  I was frantic trying everything I could think of to "find" it somewhere in cyberspace--without success.  Nothing I did recalled it.  Needless to say, I was devastated.

Then life got in the way...  

An extended family reunion in Ohio, children and grandchildren coming to visit us as we all vacationed in Estes Park.  My nephew's 50th wedding anniversary in Wyoming, and a week's visit from another nephew and wife from Texas.

Whew! 

So, I am just now rewriting that remarkable experience when I reached out to a couple of friendly women who only wanted to know when services at the chapel were going to be held the following day.  Women who became our friends over a short 24 hours!  

Now that several weeks have passed, I may have some of the details wrong, but I still think the whole experience was....

SERENDIPITOUS !