Only Ten Dollars

Recently I received a check from the school. It was additional funds that were above and beyond the cost of my tuition and books for the semester. I am not rich. Not even close. So this little bit of extra money was appreciated. I decided that I would use a **little** bit of it to get my kids each something for their birthdays this year, and the rest I would use towards bills.

I decided to get them all three the same thing, and that I would get the gifts now and then hide them away until their birthdays (January, March and June). So, the other day I stopped in at SuperTarget and grabbed the said items. I was sort of in a hurry. And when I know **exactly** what I want, I mean it when I say, "I'm just gonna run in, grab this and run out."

Anyway, because I am in a hurry, I pick the shortest line. 2 people in front of me. The cashier was just finished ringing up this gentleman's order and proceeded to tell him the grand total. He is having a hard time understanding her English and she cannot speak Spanish. The cashier had already loaded his bags into his cart, and they were packed full of groceries. I am not sure how many mouths he has to feed, but my guess is a lot. The cashier is explaining to the man he doesn't have enough money. He is not understanding. She is pointing to the digital display, trying to explain once again that the amount of cash he had given her was not enough.

My first thought was, "Oh great! And I thought this was the SHORT line!" But then, I glimpsed my attitude in the face of the woman in front of me. She let out not one, not two, but THREE heavy sighs, adding a major eye-roll, which she turned and displayed for the rest of us as if to say, "Can you believe this???", and topping it all off with her hands-on-hips-I-am-too-important-to-have-to-stand-here-and-witness-this move. The lady behind me jumped on that ship and added two loud heavy sighs of her own, along with a rhythmic tapping of her undoubtedly, name-brand stilettos.

I realized that my being irritated was not going to help. I also realized that my initial feeling of exasperation was just about as ridiculous as the looks on these two ladies faces. At this point, the cashier decides that since he doesn't understand English, perhaps she could speak LOUDER, cuz that might just help. As she is explaining that he is about ten dollars short, he is digging in his pockets. The thought occurs to me that he doesn't even realize he is short. I think that he thought she was asking if he had the exact change. Like, if you have two pennies, etc. He digs in his pockets and turns them out empty. She then says, again VERRRRRY LOUDLY and now EXTREMELY SLOWLY, "YOU...DON'T...HAVE...ENOUGH...MONEY!" The man shakes his head "no". Again, I do not think he even understood.

Cereal. Spaghetti noodles. Oranges. Target brand diapers. Ground beef. Bell peppers. These were the items I could see peeking from some of his grocery bags.

Tap. Tap. Tap. The woman behind me clicked her shoes a little more loudly; each tap growing with intensity. The woman in front of me begins to look like a defective bobble-head; the constant shaking of her head from side-to-side. I could practically hear the clucking of her tongue.

Ten Dollars. He was short ten dollars. I had ten dollars cash, in my wallet. It wouldn't take away from **my** budget to give him the ten dollars. After all, this was *extra* money. Could I find a use for the ten dollars? Sure I could. Like I said, I am not rich.

However, just because I have never stood in a line at the grocery store as time stood still and glared at me for not having enough cash, doesn't mean I haven't ever stressed over being able to feed my family. I stress about it. All.The.Time. In fact, over the last two years, I have spent many a countless nights stressing over how I would pay this bill or that bill, or what I could make for dinner the next three nights with the few cans left in my cupboard. I cannot tell you all of the times I have felt like I could not handle just One.More.Thing. And it has been in times like these wherein somebody will have put an envelope of money in my mailbox, or a 20 dollar bill will have turned up in my old jacket, or someone else has brought me dinner or groceries, or let me "borrow" a can of diced tomatoes, a tub of cool whip or even a bag of chocolate chips. I cannot tell you the times I have come home to find my lawn magically mowed or my leaves mysteriously raked or my weeds pulled or my sidewalks and driveway cleared of snow. I am one person. How could I possibly "pay" each of these people back? Especially the anonymous ones...

Nonetheless, this man needed help. Right Now. He didn't have time to go home and see if per chance there was a ten dollar bill in an old coat. It was my chance to pay it forward. And the other thing too, I told myself, I KNOW where this money is going. He is using it to feed and care for his family. He isn't buying drugs or alcohol with it. He isn't gambling with it.

In reality, only about two minutes had passed. And yet, everything seemed slowed; the ticking of the clock filling the space of time, and the sighing and the tapping continued, each echoing a bit more.

"I've got it," I said, my own voice almost unrecognizable to me. I don't know why, but I was shaking as I reached my hand in my purse and fumbled to release the clasp of my wallet. The cashier and the two women gasped, almost in unison. The woman behind me looked at me with shock; the woman in front of me with disgust, and the cashier with disbelief. "I've got it," I said again, reaching out and handing the ten dollar bill to the cashier. I mean it was TEN DOLLARS! And it wasn't really even *my* money, really. I mean, it was given to me, but still.

I didn't like the looks on the women's faces and I decided that I didn't want others to see that in me. Instead I wanted someone to be able to look at me and see His image in my countenance. I wanted to be able to feel good about **finally** being able to help someone. Anyone. All of a sudden, ten dollars didn't seem like so much. I mean, really, with everything I have been given, and especially through the kind acts of others, it was **only** ten dollars. How could I NOT offer?

Isn't this what I want anyway? I asked myself. When I pray, often times I tell the Lord that I will be an instrument in his hands and that if there is anyone who could benefit from any service or deed that I could do, that I might be made aware of it. How do I NOT know that this may have been my chance to be *that* instrument. What if I would have ignored the prompting to help? What blessings or other opportunities might I have missed out on?

I know that some people would call me foolish or wasteful; saying that it wasn't *my* responsibility to help this man out, that he should have planned ahead a little better, or known his circumstance a little more. They may say that I wasted that money on someone else's family, when I could have used it for my own. I mean, that's about 4 gallons of milk right there.

I was still shaking by the time I got up to pay for my own three simple items. The cashier thanked me for doing what I did. I didn't really say much. I think my head was still thinking about all of this, in terms of my relationship with God. Then the cashier went on to say, "This is not the first time this has happened. He has come through my line before, and he has come up short before. It is sooo frustrating. Usually, I have to find someone who speaks Spanish to tell him to put something back."

I sort of gave her a half-nod as I took my receipt and goods and walked out to the car. I opened the door, sat in my front seat and began to sob like a baby. Not because I regretted giving up the Ten Dollars. Not because I felt like a do-gooder, though I did feel good about helping. But I was moved because this thought hit me:

How many times in my life have I come up short? How many times have I taken my case to the Lord in spite of feeling inadequate or unworthy to receive His blessings? And God doesn't say, "Again? This isn't the first time this has happened; you've come down this road before. This is so frustrating." God doesn't call the Savior in and ask Him to explain to us why we can't have what we just might so desperately need at that moment. He doesn't scold us, telling we should have planned a little better or known our circumstance more. No. The Savior paid the price for us. We are saved by His grace, after all we can do.

I am by no means trying to say that I think I was this guy's savior. But it hit me that this man gave all he had and was in need of someone to come to his mercy. Justice meant the items would have to be paid for. But Mercy meant that someone else could step in and pay the remaining debt, after all he could do.

I cried because at that moment it solidified for me, in my heart, how much my Heavenly Father truly does love me and that because He loves me He sent His son. And not only did He do that, but he continues to bless me through "Angels among us" who step in from time to time to bring me that bag of chocolate chips or shovel my walk. And sometimes-- sometimes He lets me know He loves me by letting ME have to opportunity to pay it forward.

Truly, it was only Ten Dollars.

I Was A Cry Baby

Normally, I don't let things get to me - with regards to what other people say or do. When I am stressed, depressed or anxious about something, it is usually over something *I* have to get done, or something that I can't get done. Deadlines, school, pressure, work, money, kids... those are the things I usually fret over. If someone looks at me the wrong way, or says stuff behind my back, I usually am like, "whatever". And then, I sort of "weed" that person out of my life. If they want to be like that, then I just don't need to be around them, right? Right.

However, when I am uber-stressed, uber-tired, and feeling overwhelmed I get emotional fairly easy. But again, this usually occurs over matters such as deadlines, school, pressure, work, money, kids, etc. I guess because I am sarcastic much of the time, only those who know me well, see this emotional side to me.

Fact: Sarcastic People Have Feelings Too.

That being said, last week, someone said something to me, in front of a group of people, which I found very hurtful and I cried; like a big fat baby. I mean, seriously -- this was no little tear. I cried and couldn't stop. And then I cried at least three more times. My appetite was ruined. I even left the event early, and called Big-D and cried again while re-telling it.

Let me just say that I HATE that I cried. This usually isn't me.

Case in point. About a year and a half ago, some people, who were supposed to be my friends, were caught up in some gossipping -- about ME! I was oblivious to the entire ordeal. Well, guilt had got the best of two of them, and they came forward and confessed to me what they had done. I didn't cry. Honestly, I hardly felt hurt at all. I thanked them for having the courage to come forward. The one even asked me a few days later if I was ok. I said, "yep". She replied, "but you don't seem upset or angry. I mean you haven't cried or anything." I said, "Nope. For some reason, I am not upset or angry. I think that it is easy to get caught up in something like that, and I respect you more for having the courage to tell me." And honestly, with all truthfulness, I can say that this instance didn't bother me at all. I am still friends with the women as well.

NORMALLY, I am like - if they wanna talk about me, whatever. If they don't like me, who cares? If they don't want to be my friend, so be it. If they think my parenting skills are a little out there, I already know. If they think I'm a little too sarcastic and slightly "dirty-minded", oh well. I just really don't let it bother me.

So, back to this incident. Why did I cry??? Why did it bother me SOOOO much? True, I was tired. True, it was during the week of finals and I was already stressed. True, it was a personal attack. True, it was about something I had worked hard on and felt like was a success. True, it was in front of other people, and True, it caught me off guard. Others whom overheard agreed that it wasn't very nice.

But what bothered me more than her being mean was the fact that it bothered me at all. I really HATE that I cried over it, that I allowed myself to give away my "power" or "control", so to speak.

Now that I have had some time to think a little about it, I guess the "trigger for tears" was that it was something mean said to my face, and it has been a while since that has happened. I mean, I get that not everyone will like me or things that I do or say. But if you wanna say mean things, I'd rather you do it behind my back, hehehe. What's that saying? Ignorance is bliss?

What about you? Do you get offended easily? or do you let things roll off your shoulders pretty easily?

Go Ahead... Judge Me.

I know. I don't always do things "by the book". Go ahead, judge me.

I don't always "follow the rules", even if/when I made up those rules. Go ahead, judge me.

I know... sometimes my middle child eats an ice cream sandwich for breakfast on his way to school. Go ahead, judge me.

I am horrible about making my children go to bed on time. Heck, I can barely get to bed at a decent hour myself. Go ahead, judge me.

I know... sometimes I say things I shouldn't say like, "That's what she said"... Go ahead, judge me.

I did not plant a garden and was not fruitful & self-sufficient this summer. Go ahead, judge me.

The only reason my recycle bin makes it out to the curb is because both of my neighbors fill it up, while I continue to throw "trash" away. Go ahead, judge me.

I allowed my son to find a loophole so that he didn't have to break a rule, nor ask me to allow him to break such said rule. Go ahead, judge me.

It's true... On occassion, I have taken the teens TPing, on WalMart Scavenger Hunts, Midnight Walks, on various trails, and on late-night stake-outs so they could plaster Post-It notes all over a girl's front window. Go head, judge me.

My 9 year old has learned to do laundry and now I rarely wash any of my children's clothes, let alone and put them away. What do I care if they get wrinkled as they SHOVE them in their drawers??? They are the ones that have to wear them, right? Go ahead, judge me.

My 15 year old son has held a girl's hand... and I know about it... and I don't care. Go ahead, judge me.

I don't always serve from ALL FIVE FOOD GROUPs during dinner. Sometimes, a frozen burrito or an Eggo IS dinner. Go ahead, judge me.

Yes, very recently I uttered the word "crap" from across the pulpit at church... yes, they noticed. Go ahead, judge me.

I will probably always talk a bit too fast, a bit too much and perhaps (on occassion) a bit too loudly. Go ahead, judge me.

Go ahead... judge me. And as long as we're "playing"... how about you lay YOUR cards out on the table, and I will judge you too! Of course, it would probably be an uneven playing field as you're so close to perfect and all... HAHAHA! ooops... was that too harsh?

Well, go ahead... judge me!

Journal Journey: Seeing Amy

I have really enjoyed rereading my old journals. I can look back at the lessons I learned once-upon-a-time and I can re-learn them. I can reread about the trials I faced and how I overcame them and find renewed strength in myself. Mostly, my old journals make me laugh at myself and cringe... such as the "love entries" like I already posted. In talking to Eric about that lately, I came across another journal entry. It was about his sister, Amy. I shared the entry with him. I haven't read that entry in forever, and now upon reading it again, I think it was poignant to me, in helping to shape the way I tried to live my life as I finished high school and went off to college. I was 18 when I wrote about this. Without further adieu...

January 4, 1992

The first time I met Amy I didn't like her. She just seemed too perfect. She was a straight-A student, a well-versed scriptorian, a skilled conversationalist, extremely talented, the perfect daughter and the perfect sister. She and her brothers were the best of friends. I guess truly, it's not that I didn't like her; I realize now I was jealous. She emulated the kind of person I want to be and strive to be and yet it seemed to come all-too-easily for her.

One Tuesday night I had signed up to babysit in the nursery for the Relief Society Homemaking activity. Amy had just turned 18. She was officially in Relief Society now. It was summer and it was warm outside. The kids were getting antsy in the nursery, so I decided to take them outside and let them play in the grass. Soon, Amy came outside, oddly appearing a bit nervous. She asked me if she could hang out with me and the nursery kids. I did not expect that. I said yes. She sat down on the grass next to me and explained how she did not feel comfortable in Homemaking with all of the "older ladies". I was utterly shocked. I thought for sure that she was so mature she'd just love it there.

We sat in the grass and talked and laughed for over two hours. I suddenly saw Amy as a real down-to-earth person. The more we talked, the more I realized that while I was jealous of all of her incredible qualities, she was too humble to recognize most of them within herself. She didn't realize how close-to-perfect she actually was. I also discovered that she was shy in groups where she didn't feel like she belonged. And I tried to imagine what it would be like to move to a brand new school my last year of high school. It would be a little overwhelming. Amy admitted to feeling like she did not fit in. I immediately felt ashamed for the way I had previously misjudged her.

In that instant, the very moment in which she chose to share her personal insecurities with me I had a new respect, appreciation and love for her. I think it took a lot for her to leave the Relief Society and come join the nursery to hang out with an immature girl like me. I realized through our conversation that we weren't all that different either; and in fact she had done some quirky things too. She showed me the orange streaks on her legs where she tried to use that spray-on tan stuff. We laughed so hard over that.

She taught me more about loving and not judging others in that one evening than I had learned up to that point on my own. Shortly after that night, Amy went off to college. I never looked at her the same way again. She is a pillar of strength. Anyone who has ever met her, even if only briefly, knows at least that one thing about her. I will never forget what she did for me that night; how she gave me eyes to see.

Amy died January 2, 1992 of Lukemia.

I Just Wanted to Be Good...

I was IMing with someone I knew from my teenage years at church the other day on Facebook. Said-person-from-my-past began to "explain" to me how he and apparently "everybody else from our youth-group" (according to him) thought I was a SNOB during those years.

"Me?" I questioned in disbelief. "A Snob?"

"Yep," he replied matter-of-factly. "You always had this air about you that you were better than the rest of us; or that you thought you were."

I told him...with honest sincerity...

"I am sorry if you thought I was being a snob. But here is what you should know about me. I wanted soooo badly to fit in with the other youth. However, I had 1 sister who was 11 months older and another sister just 12 months younger. And believe it or not, there was not one other girl that was my age. They were either in the older or the younger sibling's grade or Sunday School class, and I just sort of felt left out."

There was one girl, when I was like 5. Laura Lee Lewis. But then her family moved away. And then there was another girl, Carla , but they moved away too when I was still young. When I was 11 a new family moved in. Heidi became my best friend. But shortly thereafter the church building was busting at the seams... and it was already a NEW building. So, they split us up geographically into what we call "wards". Those living in one geographic location were asked to attend the ward at 9am while those living in the other were asked to attend at 11am. This would allow room for everyone. Heidi lived on the complete opposite side of the county, which meant we were split up. In my journal I had even written I was feeling a little "out in left-field" at church and how trying to hang out with either of my sisters' friends felt like I was intruding. It seemed at times my only friends were the children I babysat for, their parents, and my youth leaders.

And as far as "thinking I was better than everyone else", well let me just say that I just wanted to be good. I wanted to be a good Christian. I wanted to be obedient to my parents. I wanted to Choose the Right. I never meant to come off as self-righteous or anything. More so, I was always striving to find perfection in myself, because that is what I thought I was supposed to do. By no means, did I ever have intentions of disregarding anyone or their feelings in the process.

Anyway, this little "revelation" by Said-person-from-my-past-#1 sort of bothered me. Thus, when I was IMing another -person-from-my-past, I told him what I had learned. He said, "I never thought you were snobby. More like, "untouchable". It seemed you were only interested in guys from the other wards." I explained to Said-person-from-my-past-#2, the reason for that was because the boys in our ward were already preoccupied with the other girls. So, I felt like I needed to look elsewhere... (especially after my first love in my ward- broke my heart. Hey, I was only 15... that's a hard thing to recover from.)

I suppose most of it was just this internal desire to push myself. I always felt like I had to push myself to do better; to be better. I still do that to this day. If I think something is important, or worth the risk, I am extremely persistent at it.

I don't know why, but I just felt like I had to defend myself to both of these people from my past. I guess I felt that if any of them truly knew my heart (then AND now), that perhaps they would have seen that I just wanted to be good, I just wanted to be liked, and I just wanted to fit in. They may have also found out that I have a basic love for all people. I talk to anyone and everyone, anywhere...seriously. My kids think it's an illness. (How do you know that woman mom? me: What Woman? them: The one you were talking to in line at the grocery store. me:I don't know her...)

Lesson we've all heard before? Don't judge a book by it's cover. Simply Said, "Christianity 101".