A Memory

I like to listen to podcasts and such while I scrapbook.  Tonight I was listening to the Relief Society General Broadcast from this past October.  (The Relief Society is the women's group that I belong to through our church.)  As my mind wandered, I remembered an event that occurred shortly after Derek & I were married.  I was working on-call for the BYU Bookstore as a cashier.  One of the fun parts of our job was to offer free gift wrapping for the patrons of the store during the winter holiday season.  One day, I was helping at the customer service desk on the third floor.  I was answering questions, and wrapping gifts ordered by phone.  For about 15 minutes, I had been listening to this baby fuss, then weep, and finally start wailing.  The baby was held by a young mother, obviously a student/wife of a student, who was pushing along her purchases with one foot, while sporting a very heavy backpack, in a very long line for the free gift-wrapping.  I really wanted to help this mom, but I was terrifically shy and felt extreme anxiety about instigating anything from my coworkers.  Finally, I realized that no one else was going to speak up, so I needed to be brave and figure something out.  I timidly asked one of my coworkers if there was some way we could help that young mom and her baby, maybe we could wrap her gifts and hold them for her while she tended her baby?  To my relief, the notion was immediately grabbed, and the manager of the service desk went out to help the girl.  I overheard them talking, and the young mom saying that she needed to feed her baby.  Her stuff was quickly brought over so we could wrap them for her, and she went off to the ladies restroom to feed and change her baby.

I'm hungry, Dad!!

This isn't a remarkable story.  In fact, it's rather mundane, and similar to experiences I've now had in spades in my life.  What was remarkable was the overwhelming feeling of compassion and love I felt as I was wrapping her gifts.  I felt charity, the pure love of Christ, for this girl whom I had served, and love towards myself from the Lord.  I actually started to cry (to my supreme embarrassment) because the feeling was so powerful.  I thought on how the girl, who was about my own age, was probably a poor student, struggling to make ends meet, and excited to take advantage of the free gift wrap the store offered.  I didn't realize at the time how hard it is to get out with a young baby, until I found myself in similar situations, trying to finish just one more errand with fussy children begging to go home.  This moment was significant to me because I realized something specific--I had been an answer to that young mom's prayers.  I knew she had been trying to figure out what to do and how to balance her needs and her baby's needs.  I was really young, just 21, and still learning to discern the promptings of the Holy Ghost.  This feeling left no doubt in me that what I had experienced before, though lesser in strength and power, was the same thing: an affirmation that I had chosen as the Lord wanted. 

Horse: the manual transmission Datsun 8-10 I learned to drive on.  Probably the ultimate reason it died...

I often think of my children when I remember of this story.  Derek & I consider all the time how best to help them learn to recognize the promptings of the Lord.  Perhaps the simplest thing is to relate these events to them during times of quiet, and hope that they have experiences that lead to a better discernment of those often small, insignificant feelings.  I liken them to learning to drive a manual transmission car: it's really hard at first to learn where the friction point on the clutch is, especially timing that with maneuvering the gear-shift.  Eventually, and with practice, you instinctively sense when and where to shift, without much forethought at all.  So it is with the promptings of the Spirit: time, practice, and personal cleanliness lead to a fluency in Holy Ghost-speak.  This can diminish without practice, just as my driving skills can wane when I drive only our automatic transmission van for long periods of time.  But it's amazing how quickly it all comes back, sort of like riding a bicycle, when I once again take the time to practice my shifting skills.

Just because everyone is doing it (or not doing it), doesn't mean it's right...

One other thought: I was really nervous that the people in line were going to be upset because we had helped that mother (who was near the back of the line).  I was worried at what my coworkers would think.  And yet after we had helped her and sent her on her way with a sleeping baby and wrapped gifts, we had three other ladies, ahead of her in line, come and thank us for helping the mom when her need was obviously great.  It made me realize that there were probably a lot of other promptings going on to other people that day, and many who were probably just as anxious as I was.  And my tiny actions allowed the others around to help when they may have felt unable or too nervous to do so themselves. 

(True happiness, or at least the appearance of...  also pink teeth from eating a candy cane.)

I type this at the risk of sounding self-aggrandizing.  It's not true, actually.  I'm pretty sure I've ignored about 99% of the promptings I've received in my life (to my chagrin when I realize it later).  Sometimes it was because depression, loud children, or some other interruption made it impossible to hear.  But honestly?  Most of the time it was because I hadn't been driving the stick-shift enough lately and had fallen out of practice.  Fortunately, God is good and He forgives me for my loss of focus and reminds me how to serve Him and be truly happy in so doing.