One of the speakers at church sparked this post as well as the moving talk by President Uchtdorf in the Women’s General Broadcast yesterday. I feel like for the past few months I’ve been mired in a muck of ennui. I’ve had some encouraging moments sprinkled throughout the past week, and I wonder if I’m starting to climb out of it.
These two speakers prompted me to think about the miraculous people that have come into my life. I’ve thought about the teachers, friends, family members and mentors that have changed me for the better. They loved me and served me even when or especially when I didn’t deserve it. By thinking about these people, more and more names came into my mind until I realized how much I’ve been seen.
I’d like to post a new person once a week and see how many stories I can showcase.
When asked at church to think of a person that changed my life for the better, the first person I thought of was a former bishop I had growing up.
It should surprise no one that as awkward as I am today as an adult, I was an even more awkward teenager. Losing a dad right before you start junior high doesn’t help. I don’t know what I would have done without someone to talk to, someone that wasn’t a member of my family, someone that was always on my side, someone that thought I was wonderful, someone that cared.
Every Sunday he would ask me how I was doing. I always answered back, “Fine.” When I didn’t mean it, he would know and have me come into his office and talk it through. Sometimes when I did mean it, he would invite me into his office to share good news. He always had tissues and treats. He always had a kind word, and a compliment ready to dispense. I felt smart, and capable and believed in. I can’t measure how much and how often this man made me shine.
Those years after my dad died should have been unbearable, and I had many moments that were, but then again, I also had so many sweet kindnesses to think back on. He was a part of a lot of them. I hope one day he knows how much he changed my life, how much it was needed.