My Life: Remembering Little Things Matter

My first semester at BYU, I ended up in one of the Tuesday devotionals. I can't remember what the talk was about or who spoke. After it ended, I joined the flood of students making their way back from the Marriott Center. Rain spilled down on us as we threaded our way over the twisting crosswalks that arched over the main roads. Wiser students than me, popped open umbrellas they'd carried with them.  A girl who I didn't know, and who I've never seen since, held her umbrella over my head until we got to the main campus. Its been more than eight years, but I still remember her.

A month or so after my baby was born, I went to the grocery store. I carried her in one of those baby slings and I loaded all the groceries on the belt by reaching over and around her. I was pretty worn down and starting to realize I wasn't as far healed from the birthing process as I thought I was. I still had to bag everything myself. As I struggled to pack up my purchases, an older gentleman reached across the bagging center and began to help, leaving his own groceries waiting.

I saw this video on Facebook today. I needed it. Little things do matter. There are so many good things in the world around me. Even in the middle of winter, there is love in the simplest acts. When has someone done something unexpected or small for you? Did it make a difference?

A Story from A Circle of Sisters In Honor of Clint

Today is the anniversary of my cousin, Clint's death. As I was reading a post on Facebook from my aunt, I realized how powerful her story is. She wrote about some of her experiences after his death for A Circle of Sisters. With her permission, I would like to share that story with you today, along with a few photos of my cousin. There is so much power in love. I'm a lucky girl to have both fond memories of my cousin and a wonderful aunt who is brave enough to share her story, even when it is hard. I love you Aunt Dana.

Love Is

By Dana DiGrolamo

For about six weeks I had served in a Relief Society calling at the prison. I loved the women. You could tell who really wanted to be there, the ones who attended meetings just to get out of their cells, and the ones who wanted to be there to sit with their friends.
Little did I know I would have an experience that week that would turn my world upside down. My beautiful oldest son, who was thirty years old, died unexpectedly. I received much-needed help, love, and support from my own ward. I didn’t even know many of the women who helped. It was the hardest day in my life. He passed away on a Thursday, and I went to the prison the week after. I was asked to talk that day about my son, whose death had partly been caused by a drug overdose. Many of the women were in prison for drug-related crimes, and the Relief Society president thought perhaps I could reach some of them.
As I stood at the front of the class, I had the biggest lump in my throat. I talked very openly and candidly about my son. I told the women if they didn’t turn their lives around, it would affect the people that loved them so very much. I was old enough to be many of the inmates’ mother. After a very tearful lesson where the Spirit was there in abundance, every one of the inmates got into a line and came and hugged me. It was a feeling and a moment I will never forget.
People who serve at the prison are told not to take anything from the inmates. The prisoners in Relief Society had wanted to make me a card, they said, but had been unable to. I told them it was okay.  But I guess my husband didn’t get the same memo. When we got home that day, he said an inmate had given him a card for me. I called the Relief Society president, who called the bishop. He told her I could keep the card. It was beautifully handmade and printed. It is so special to me it is glued inside my scriptures. It reads as follows:
“I heard a woman speak about love today. She said nothing in this world is perfect. Her son had just died. She loved him very much, and to her, although he had human frailties, love had made him perfect.
“It was wonderful to hear—to feel—her love for him. ‘He was perfect to me,’ she said in tears.
“Love, I believe, teaches to overlook faults, to be patient. To forbear and understand. It teaches forgiveness. Love is a strong desire to help others. No matter the price. Love is a crucible where those who throw themselves into the flame come out more pure. More alive and rich and whole.
“It’s the reason we are, our purpose and promise in life.
“Love is . . .
“Mary loved her Son as much as you love yours. He’s smiling on you and he is proud of you. Remember to laugh. Keep teaching your lessons. Don’t ever lose your light. Let it shine. It’s real. Your family is lucky to have you. Smile—today is a good day. Look at Easter this year in a new light.
“The Artist, aka ‘Pastel’”
I had met this awesome sister on a Friday night as we had an art class for enrichment. I was so stunned and humbled. I fell to my knees and thanked my Father in Heaven. That letter is one of my most precious possessions.
Yes, keep teaching. You never know whom you might touch.