"Put some lipstick on and smile"

We all say things that are taken in a way we didn't mean.

We also all say things without having any idea the impact they will have.

This happened to me last Saturday night. I was in a place I knew was good to be - listening to an apostle of Jesus Christ give advice and share wisdom and life experience with a room full of people eager to hear his words - and more importantly council from our Heavenly Father.

It was a beautiful evening full of gems that I recorded and am grateful to have been present for.

In the closing minutes came a phrase that is still ringing in my ears and making my heart hurt a bit:

"Ladies put on some lipstick and smile."

What did he mean by that phrase? I don't know.

What did it mean for me? Being transported back to my 19-year-old self in a vulnerable moment.

I was on the way to the bank with one of my college friends who kindly agreed to take me to deposit my work-study paycheck (yep, pre-direct deposit AND pre-bank apps allowing you to upload photos of checks to deposit them). In fairness, I don't remember the context of our conversation, but I do remember what he told me (or what my head and heart heard): "You'll never get married because you don't wear make-up, you don't like dogs, and you can't eat chocolate."

My brain and heart believed those words. "He's right," I thought to myself.

While most of the time I no longer believe those words, they have had a long-lasting impact on me.

And the reality is that nothing in my life has proven them wrong. I've never been someone that guys seek after. I've heard and thought over a million reasons why, and the no make-up factor has come up more than once both externally and internally.

Also, let me give some context - the first time I wore make-up was in fourth grade when I was in a play at school. Make-up made me someone I wasn't. And that trend continued through high school as I continued to participate in stage performances. In addition to wearing make-up for performances, a few times friends really wanted to give me a makeover - and the same thing, it made me feel like someone other people wanted me to be.

Besides, make-up is expensive. And it takes precious time (which is limited!) that I'd rather put into other things.

But, there are times when I worry - "Is this the reason guys don't ask me out? If I did wear make-up would that change things?" And one of the most difficult thoughts for me personally is this one: people will sometimes say "You're doing everything you can/should." and my mind tells me, "No I'm not, I don't wear make-up."

So, an apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ says, "Ladies put on some lipstick and smile," and I groan and involuntarily throw my head back.

My 19-year-old self is back, believing that I'll never get married and part of the reason is because of something I could change.

This is not a plea for people to tell me I'm beautiful, or don't need make-up, or should wear make-up. It's just an experience - and a reminder to me, and to others, that people have "sorrow that the eye can't see" (Lord, I Would Follow Thee) and sometimes things we say hit those nerves. It's a reminder to be more kind to ourselves and to those around us. That the things we say matter - they affect people in ways we often do not know, both for good and bad.

Oh, and a song I was listening to today brought all these thoughts and feelings together and gave me the courage to write this post:

"Make-up hides her face
'Cause she feels out of place
She cries
Come on someone tell this girl she's beautiful
We don't gotta run, we don't gotta hide
When someone needs somebody
We don't need to say, we don't got the time"

-The Vision of Love, Kris Allen

Lessons Learned Roller Skating

"When was the last time you were on roller skates?" While waiting for a response from the driver's seat I tried to remember when I last laced up a pair myself.

Ice skates? A few times over the last couple of years. Roller skates? I don't even know.

"At least ten years," drifted over from behind the steering wheel.

Once we arrived at the skating rink, I repeated this query to another friend as we pulled on brown skates with bright orange wheels.  "I can't even tell you how many decades it's been," was her slightly anxious response.

We all tentatively rolled onto the hardwood floor of the rink, holding onto each other and the yellow rail along the wall.

Some people got their roller legs faster than others.

One woman not in our group zipped past - forward, backward, sideways. It was impressive and intimidating. Something inside me wanted to rise to the challenge (self-imposed, not externally issued!) and skate around the entire rink backward.

Rolling over to the edge I stopped my forward inertia by grabbing onto the yellow railing. Carefully I turned my body around and tried to figure out how to translate forward skating motions into backward ones.

Using what I already knew, I decided to go with the in and out motion that has worked on ice rinks.

Mostly by accident (trying not to fall or do the splits....) I learned that doing a squat gives increased momentum. Similar to leaning forward when skating forward - one translation of movements made!

It was painfully slow. Part of me felt embarrassed - I knew the way I was flailing around/ contorting my body was not flattering or impressive. My friends lapped me countless times. The talented skater also zoomed by more times than I wanted to know about.

There were many moments when I glanced (or stared longer than I should politely...) at my fellow skaters filled with thoughts like these:

-"Why am I making a fool of myself in front of people who are so much better than me?"
-"Whoa, I'm not brave enough to even try a move like that!"
-"What's wrong with me? this shouldn't be so hard!"
-"Man, she's never even skated before, and she's way better than me!"

Then my brain reminded me how learning works: A little at a time. Over a period of time.

If I let my insecurity or my lack of quick progress or the skills of others hold me back I'd never get better.

On one pass by the most experienced skater there, I heard, "You're already getting better!" waft encouragingly from this stranger. I felt my confidence grow a tiny bit. "And your butt's going to look great tomorrow!" floated back when she was already out of sight. I couldn't help the grin, hold back the giggle or restrain my fist pump (and it didn't make me fall - maybe she was right, I was getting better!)

I made it around the rink.

I paused by the tables to chat with some friends. I took my phone out of my pocket - no need for a cracked screen! Emboldened, I started rolling backward away to go back to the rink and promptly fell, hard, on my butt (that should look great tomorrow ;)

Laughing, the way we all do when the alternative is crying or dying of embarrassment, I accepted the proffered hand to pull me back up.

Isn't that what matters? Getting back up when we fall.

Do I really believe that? At that moment I did. I went back out and skated more. Both forward and backward.

Thinking about this experience (through sore muscles that made me question afresh the wisdom of my choices!) a couple of scriptures came to mind:

Mosiah 4:27 And see that all these things are done in wisdom and order; for it is not requisite that a man should run faster than he has strength. And again, it is expedient that he should be diligent, that thereby he might win the prize; therefore, all things must be done in order.

Doctrine & Covenants 10:4 Do not run faster or labor more than you have strength and means provided to enable you to translate; but be diligent unto the end.

This idea - that we should not run faster than we have strength - is one that comes up often in my mind, and in conversations in church classes or with family and friends. It is complicated for me in part by the balancing end of those verses: "it is expedient [to] be diligent" and "all things must be done in order" as well as "be diligent unto the end".

Those additions remove the "well, guess I don't have to work too hard" aspect for me. It turns it into a "don't get upset if it takes longer than you want, or is harder than you anticipated - just keep going. As you do things in order, build up a little at a time, you'll get there if you just persist diligently."

Thank you skating rink and fellow skaters for reteaching me this lesson.

It's not so much time for me to pick up my pace, but time for me to get up, again, and keep moving forward on those things I care about and want to improve.

Old Friends

Friends: People who know you and love you anyway

While reading Graceful by Wendy Mass there was a line that jumped out at me:

"...no one knows you like your childhood friends..."

I've been thinking about friendship a lot lately. My Journal typing project has brought back a lot of memories and made me extremely grateful that we get to learn and grow through life. And even more grateful for those who walk along that path of growth with me.

During a phone call with one of those childhood friends, we were discussing some of the current challenges of life. They look different than the ones I'm transcribing from my junior high journal, but they don't feel that different. Feelings still get hurt. Life still throws us curve balls. We still need a listening ear and to feel like someone cares and wants what is best for us.

My friend spoke these words into the airwaves across the nearly 2,000 miles separating us:

"...even if we're not physically close, I rely on you. I know you care and know me."

As someone who has moved quite a bit, I know that developing relationships with people in the place you are now is important -- a huge, necessary, support. BUT I don't know what I would do without the connections and bonds that traverse longer distances of time, and in my case, also longer distances of space.

Another childhood friend of mine I don't get to see very often since we both moved far from our childhood homes and live on opposite sides of the country.  Her friendship and support is still something I can feel and that I definitely value in my life. She was the only locker partner I ever had. I trust her completely. I am so grateful for the memories and shared experiences we enjoy.

In her parent's bathroom they had a saying:

Make new friends, keep the old.
One is silver, the other is gold.

That sentiment is also conveyed in a song lyric that has lodged in my brain:

I believe we gotta forgive and make amends
'Cause nobody gets a second chance to make new old friends
-

"Most People Are Good" by Luke Bryan

These things have been on my mind, and then Facebook brought up a memory of my roommates outside our house around the time we graduated from college. The same song lyric came to me: "...nobody gets a second chance to make new old friends" and I realized this is also true of each time we start over.

When I moved to Boston the first time I was sitting by myself at Church. A friendly voice asked if I was new. Turns out, she was too. "We're going to be friends!" she proclaimed. And we were. And still over a decade later. What a great old Boston friend she is! And when we both ended up in NYC, guess what, I was incredibly grateful to see her there.

As I've processed through writing these thoughts out, I've come to decide two things:

1. We should try to maintain existing relationships. They are gold.
2. We should remain open to building and cultivating new relationships too - they will become existing relationships that we value and find more precious than gold.

What would you do?

At the end of the audiobook version I listened to of The Boy in the Striped Pajamas there was an interview with the author that made me think even more deeply. 

The interviewer said:

I always say that you don’t hand in your reading passport at 14 to draw an adult one. Or the age or twelve or whenever. You seamlessly travel up the ladder and every step you take frees your mind further, doesn’t it. 

The power of books has been something I've enjoyed for a long time. I have never thought of it quite as freeing my mind, but I like that a lot. 

In the interview, they also discussed some of the criticism people have had for the book. One line of criticism deals with the level of complacency in the book, the idea that no one did anything.  

There are examples in the book of people actively choosing not to do anything: 

“...do whatever your father tells you, we must all just keep ourselves safe until this is all over. That’s what I intend to do anyway. What more can we do than that after all? It’s not up to us to change things.”

My gut reaction: "Isn’t it up to us to change things? Even if we can’t do everything, we can do something."

In the interview, the author said that we'd all like to think that we would stand up and do something. But would we?

I'm one of those people that likes to think I would do something. Every time I read a book set in WWII I want to think I'd be the one with a hidden cupboard or feeding people living in my attic or something, anything. 

Is there a way to know?

For me, I have a clear example of when I did not. There was a time in junior high when I could have stood up against a bully on behalf of someone else, and I didn’t.

I remember wanting to. And I remember being scared of what could happen to me if I did.

From my journal in Jan 1999: 

"these two trouble makers were throwing rocks at the two kids that were sitting in front of me. They were actually more like gravel than anything, but when they missed they would usually hit me and it hurt really bad!"

 

What if we don't stand up to the bully? What do we do? 

Labeling ourself a lost cause and continuing onward with our head down "just keep[ing] ourselves safe until this is all over" isn't what I want to do. I want to learn and become better.

This makes me think of a habit I formed later, while in high school. 

Teenagers are not always nice. On more than one occasion I found myself sitting in a car or around a lunch table and people would say unkind things about someone who wasn't there. Usually someone we all knew. One time I spoke up, "You know, this makes me wonder what you say about me when I'm not around."

Silence.

Sometimes it lead to open conversation about the value of speaking positively about others. Sometimes people apologized to me, or reasured me they didn't say mean things behind my back. I don't know if it changed what people thought or said in the long run, but every time I pulled out that phrase it stopped the negative conversation. 

Should 9-year-old Bruno have realized more about the situation he and his family were in? Maybe. 

Should his parents and the adults in his life have told him more? I don't know.

I do know that it would have been better if he didn't have to be in the situation in the first place. And that is something that adults have more responsibility for than children. 

Something else I've been thinking about is the power in moving forward. 

Our lives are full of opportunities to make choice, to help or not, to speak up or not, to seek understanding, to share with others. We get to make decisions over and over again. And if (okay, when, let's be real) we make one we don't like or aren't proud of, we can try again. And we can do what we can to make up for, repair, or fix things when possible. When that's not possible, we can pay forward to as many people as possible a larger heart, a kinder soul and plant seeds of goodness.

Exploring Connections

Finding connections is something I really enjoy.

It is one of the things I love about traveling - that you can go such different places and find similarities. People are people, with hopes and dreams and families and challenges. Places have little things that remind you of other places. But until you go and see and interact with people and places there are things you just don't know or comprehend.

I recently finished listening to an audiobook called I am Malala. It had been on my to-read list for a long time. Listening to that book after an extended trip to Madagascar was insightful. It helped me to connect to things Malala talked about - including just understanding that there are things I can't understand about her specific situation or the places she wrote about since I have not been there or experienced them myself.

But there were so many nuggets of truth, moments of connection, that I loved in this book.

Another reason for the connection comes from a project I've been working on - typing up all my childhood journals. Reading over those words have reminded me what it was like to be in elementary school and junior high. To relive the adventures of changing schools, meeting new people, learning from my teachers and textbooks, but also from my friends and our interactions, big and small.

There are two lines that stood out to me with that context.

Malala shares an experience where a new girl at her school became friends with her and her best friend, Moniba: 

... which sometimes caused fights as three is a tricky number.

Passages from my journal when I was in fifth grade came to mind - moments when there was tension between my "best friend" and her "best friend". I often felt like she wasn't my best friend after all - the proof lying in the fact that she had a different best friend. 

Later in the book, Malala shares a cultural phrase that makes me smile:

The other girls stirred things up, what we call putting masala on the situation.

I've experienced that myself! And it has been interesting to read (sometimes in a lot of detail!) about some of those experiences from my childhood.  

Perhaps the most interesting thing to me is the reminder that so many of the things that seem like big deals in the moment are not. And sometimes things we don't even notice at the time shape our life in far reaching ripples.

Next Time I'll Lock the Door

You know those "memories" you only have because someone has told you the story so many times?

This is one of mine:

When I was about two years old I discovered I could make a staircase out of my dresser if I pulled all the drawers open different amounts. I pulled everything out of each drawer to make it easier to climb up to the top.

My dad was passing by my room and saw me - he was, rightly so, concerned for my safety. Empty dressers with all their drawers pulled out can easily tip onto a little girl and do some big damage.

"Don't do that - put the drawers back right now. I don't ever want to see you doing this again!" My dad scolded.

"Fine, next time I'll just lock the door first," my two-year-old self muttered as I flung clothes back into the drawers.

My dad loves telling this story, and often when he tells it to others they say something like, "Oh man, that's when you knew you were in trouble"

This week I've been reading from Acts as part of the Come Follow Me curriculum rolled out by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints this year.

Reading about Saul and his miraculous, nearly instantaneous transformation to Paul reminded me about the dresser staircase story and how my dad responded to my willfulness.

I'm grateful that instead of being worried (or at least not overly worried) about potential negative implications of this facet of my personality, my dad viewed it as a challenge. A chance for him to use his knowledge of my tendencies and his life experience to lovingly guide me.

My parents talk about my willfulness, independence and stubbornness often and how they hoped they could help me channel it toward good causes. I feel so often our skills and tendencies are like that - we can use them powerfully either for good or evil, it is our choice.

Another time I was studying about Saul/Paul someone shared their opinion that he did not actually change that much. His personality and approach were the same. He was still outspoken and fighting for a cause he believed in - the cause he was fighting for is what changed.

What a cool example and thought. When I learn that I am doing something wrong, I want to be more like Saul/Paul. I want to be able to pivot and put all of my energy in a new direction - a better direction.

Saul gave us a great example of how to do this: Pray to God and ask, "What wilt thou have me to do?" (Acts 9:6). Then once we have an answer, do it.

Dealing with Hard Things - Call My Name Out Loud

Last week gave a talk in my ward and decided to post it here if anyone wants to read what's been on my mind that I decided to share in that public forum :)

---------

Good morning everyone. My name is Nicole Smith – most of you probably know that either from personal interactions with me, or from my (probably) overabundance of emails and Facebook posts about upcoming ward activities. You’re welcome!

My tendency is to skip intros, or small talk, and dive right in. I was recently telling Jonnie Larson, I don't love being the center of attention. But, like all of us, I'm also a bundle of contradictions. I was in my first play in 5th grade and continued performing on stage through college. But, part of the reason I always felt comfortable on stage was because I got to be someone I wasn’t – to hide behind a figurative mask. Up here, it’s just me. And that vulnerability still gets to me.

Words have always been a love of mine. I started speaking young – by the time I was nine months old I put together short sentences like “Look mommy, a goggy.” (causing adults nearby to double take – asking my mother “How old is she?”). But my own words are not always adequate at conveying what I think or how I feel. This is one of the reasons I love song lyrics. They have a way of speaking straight to my soul.

Right now, I work part-time for a Juice Bar in the Seaport that is always playing music. One of the songs I hear often has a phrase that stands out every time:

This is for anybody going through tough times
Believe me, been there, done that
But everyday above ground is a great day, remember that
              -Time of Our Lives, Pitt Bull, Ne-Yo

The morning of the Hafen’s memorial service, a loss that touched most everyone in this room personally, I was in an Uber on my way to work. I had a friendly, talkative driver, and he asked about my day and my life. One way or another, the topic of religion came up. He asked me, “How is your relationship with the Lord?”

“Good,” I instinctively replied. After the briefest pause, I added, “I mean, I think it’s good…I hope it is.”

“Do you want to know how you can tell?” He asked me.

“How?”

“You and I are having a conversation right now. I’m talking and you’re listening. Then you talk and I listen. When we pray, we are talking to God, and He listens. ‘Dear God, please help me,’ we say, and God thinks, ‘Okay, he wants some help.’ ‘Dear God, please forgive me,’ we say, and God thinks, ‘Okay, he wants forgiveness.’ But when we want to hear from God, we read the scriptures.”

I nodded, thinking, I can get behind that.

Then he said, “Is there anything else you want to know about, you can ask me anything.”

Blinking back tears, I asked sincerely, “Any advice on how to deal with loss?”

Loss. Hard things. Those are things I’ve thought a lot about over the past year and a half. And something that kept coming back to my mind while preparing for this talk.

Here is an excerpt from a blog post I wrote after a loss in my life in February 2018:

“Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.” (2 Nephi 2:25)

I truly believe that scripture is true. But I also know that life isn't one joyful moment after another – there are a lot of not so great moments sprinkled in that come with great pain and heartache attached.

Right now is one of those times when the fact that life isn't fair is 'in your face' and joy seems distant.

………………………….

I am grateful for the kind of relationships in this life that make us hurt when bad things happen to people we love. Not that I want bad things to happen, but that I want to care about people so much that I do hurt when they hurt.

Every person in this room can think of a loss or hard thing in their life – recent or more distant. Elder Quinten L Cook’s talk from General Conference in October 2008 titled “Hope Ya Know, We Had a Hard Time” has some really beautiful words on the subject of dealing with the hard things we all face.

“We are aware that many who are listening to this conference are experiencing trials and hardships of such intensity that the underlying feeling in their hearts as they approach our Father in Heaven in prayer is “Hope ya know, I’m having a hard time.”

… many of the trials and hardships we encounter in life are severe and appear to have lasting consequences.

One of the essential doctrines illuminated by the Restoration is that there must be opposition in all things for righteousness to be brought to pass. This life is not always easy, nor was it meant to be; it is a time of testing and proving.

The novel A Tale of Two Cities opens with the oft-quoted line “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” The scriptures make it clear that each generation has its own version of best and worst of times. We are all subject to the conflict between good and evil and the contrast between light and dark, hope and despair

[Brigham Young said] “…we are not going to suffer any more than what is for our good.”

We know from the scriptures that some trials are for our good and are suited for our own personal development. … It is also true that every cloud we see doesn’t result in rain. Regardless of the challenges, trials, and hardships we endure, the reassuring doctrine of the Atonement wrought by Jesus Christ includes Alma’s teaching that the Savior would take upon Him our infirmities and “succor his people according to their infirmities.”

Something that has become more and more clear to me over the past year and a half is how much we need each other. This is true in both good times and hard times.

Not only do we need each other, we have to be willing to ask for help. To let others know when we are struggling. To allow them to help us.

I had two friends illustrate this in my life recently.

A friend from DC posted on Facebook “I need help with my solo prayers.” And asked for help praying for specific things.

John Sue-Ho said, “If you ever need something to pray for, you can ask, “Bless Sue-Ho with the black hole that is what he needs.”

We all have specific need, and a black hole worth of them. We could all use help with our solo prayers.

One of the ways God teaches us this principle is through the use of the word ‘knock’ in the scriptures.

14 of the 18 uses of the word 'knock' in the King James version of the Bible and the triple combination, the Book of Mormon, the Pearl of Great Price and the Doctrine and Covenants, are an invitation to us to knock and things will be opened unto us.

One is the Savior knocking on our door asking us to let him in, attesting his willingness to help if we allow Him to. Revelations 3:20 says:

20 Behold, I [Jesus] stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.

Song lyrics have also driven this idea home for me.

James Taylor highlights this in his song You’ve Got a Friend

If the sky above you
Grows dark and full of clouds
And that old north wind begins to blow
Keep your head together
And call my name out loud
Soon you’ll hear me knocking at your door
You just call out my name
And you know wherever I am
I’ll come running, to see you again

Bill Withers also touches on this in Lean On Me

Sometimes in our lives we all have pain
We all have sorrow

Lean on me, when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on
…..

Please swallow your pride
If I have things you need to borrow
For no one can fill those of your needs
That you won't let show

You just call on me brother [or sister, or friend…], when you need a hand
We all need somebody to lean on
I just might have a problem that you'll understand
We all need somebody to lean on
.....

If there is a load you have to bear
That you can't carry
I'm right up the road
I'll share your load

God asks us to knock. James Taylor tells us to ‘call my name out loud’ and Bill Withers reminds us that “no one can fill those of your needs That you won’t let show.”

While we have been promised that we will not be given more to bear than we can handle, there are times that it feels we have been pushed too close to that limit. And in those moments, we can rest assured that we are not the only ones who have felt that way.

Joseph Smith experienced this in Liberty Jail and he prayed asking:

1 O God, where art thou? And where is the pavilion that covereth thy hiding place? (Doc & Cov 121: 1)

And Jesus Christ Himself, ever our perfect example, also asked: “…if it be possible, let this cup pass from me.”

Let’s think about that request for a minute. Christ knew what was coming. He knew it was going to be hard. He knew He had to die in order to provide a way for all of us to be saved through His Atonement. He knew He would rise again on the third day after His death. And He also knew that his disciples did not fully understand any of this.

Even knowing how things would turn out in the end, and even being the literal Son of God, Jesus Christ needed help and support, and He asked for it. In a moment of need, he turned to those who were closest to him. In the King James version of the Bible, we read in Matthew 26 verses 38-40:

38 Then saith he [Jesus] unto them [his disciples], My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death: tarry ye here, and watch with me. 

39 And he went a little further, and fell on his face, and prayed, saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt. 

40 And he cometh unto the disciples, and findeth them asleep, and saith unto Peter, What, could ye not watch with me one hour?

Asking can be hard. Especially knowing that others do not always come through for us, as the Savior experienced with His disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane. But we have to ask. And, often, we do receive help from others right when we need it, or in ways we wouldn’t have predicted.

And it requires honesty from us. When someone asks, "How' life?" as a friend of mine did recently, we can respond with, "You know, I think I lost the arm wrestle, but I might still be in it for the thumb war!"  Instead of saying, "I'm fine."

An experience I had last year illustrated this for me. I wrote about it in a blog post titled, “I Can Help You”

“I can help you,” the cashier said, looking up as I walked into the bank.

And he did.

That moment of exchanged smiles and assistance in my busy day faded as I got bogged down in all that followed.

Coming home late that night it was dark and cold. My heart was heavy. I angled my bike as I must to be able to open the first door into my building. I put the key in, then found myself remembering another forgotten moment of assistance.

…..

“Here, let me help you,” Jenn said, jumping out of her car.

You’ve already helped me so much just by driving me home and listening to me! I wanted to say.

“I don’t know how you do this by yourself all the time,” she exclaimed as, together, we unlocked the doors and brought my bike into the building.

I smiled and laughed, thanked her, and then we parted ways.

Pushing my bike down the hallway, I contemplated how we manage to find a way to make things work when we have to. But that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be better if we had help.

…..

Lost in thought, I didn’t notice the woman inside my building until she was opening the second door for me, offering assistance in my moment of need. “Thank you!” I told her with a big smile.

She smiled back. We wished each other “Have a good night”’s and parted richer for the brief interaction.

I needed those reminders of the value and impact of little things.

I want to be more aware of and attentive to the chance to open a door to someone who could use an extra hand in that moment, or the chance to do what I do on a regular basis (like the cashier at the bank) that enables me to help others move forward on their journey. 

I think one of the reasons little things matter is that they can be very deliberate. We have to be intentional. We have to be aware of others in order to do them.

Some people say life is so short. And for some people it is. And, as Ally Walker pointed out, based on her experience in a ukulele group where most members were in their 80s or 90s, sometimes life is very long.

I’ll end with a quote from one of my favorite books, The Chosen by Chaim Potok.

“We live less than the time it takes to blink an eye, if we measure our lives against eternity. So it may be asked what value is there to a human life.
………
I learned a long time ago, Reuven, that a blink of an eye in itself is nothing. But the eye that blinks, that is something. A span of life is nothing. But the man who lives that span, he is something. He can fill that tiny span with meaning, so its quality is immeasurable though its quantity may be insignificant.”
― Chaim Potok, The Chosen

I’m grateful to have great people in my life. You, my fellow Charles River Ward members, are significant, and you have filled your lives with meaning. By so doing, you have helped my life have more meaning. Thank you for being people who I can lean on. People who do little, and big, things for me regularly. And please, call my name out loud so I can come running – we just might have problems that each other can understand.

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen