The Mailbox

When I was a teenager, I traveled with a youth group to Washington, DC to the LDS Temple.

These trips were always quite grand in our youthful minds.

It was a four day trip – one day driving, one day site seeing, one day at the temple and one day driving home. I still remember this first trip because “We are the World” was the popular song as well as Madonna’s “Material Girl.” Music that was a far cry from the purpose of our travels, but remembered just the same.

At the temple, we all couldn’t participate at once and so we sat in a waiting room where various videos were played. Cipher in the Snow was a sad story about a boy that was neglected by a drunken care giver and somehow the story all worked out in the end. Another was about the blind man that married a woman that had low self-esteem and she worried he wouldn’t love her once he re-gained his eyesight through corrective surgery.

For some reason, “The Mailbox” stuck in my mind the most. It depicted the day in and day out of an older woman who lived alone. She would walk to the mailbox, down her long driveway, on a daily basis to see if she had received mail from her sons and daughters and grandchildren. The neighbor boy came around to visit her periodically with his mother, but otherwise she led a fairly lonely life. She lived for a letter or a phone call and typically received neither.

One cold wintry day she trod out to the mailbox and there was a letter!

She couldn’t wait to get back to the house to open it and find out the latest happenings in her children/grandchildren’s lives. But, in all the excitement and flurry she was able to open it, read a few lines and then fell back in her chair suffering from a massive heartache.

I’m not sure if I was a huge letter writer before this time. I know that my parents taught me to write frequent notes and letters to friends and family. But, this little movie vignette stuck with me and I vowed to make a better effort of communicating with those people close to me that needed more support, love and contact in their lives.

When I was in my early 20s, I had returned home from serving an LDS mission and started back into my college degree. My grammy had died and my grampy was having a difficult time of it, but was still healthy and strong. But, over the next couple of years it was clear that he wasn’t going to live that long out of loneliness for my grammy.

I felt strongly one day that I should write a letter and I wrote a long one. Luckily, he was able to read it…about a week before he died. I have never regretted writing that note. It has been a source of comfort for as long as I can remember.

Now my other grandparents are in their 90s and are starting to find it difficult to get around, communicate and involve themselves in meaningful activities. They are lonely.

They need mail!

So, I've decided to do what I should already have been doing - sending a letter a week! I mean, how hard can it really be? These people helped bring me into this world and I don't have time to send a photo, write a letter or share a card?

I've done it for a couple of weeks and vow to continue, especially since I've been the recipient of some cards and packages recently that completely made my day.

There are so many ways to serve out there and I'm thinking if we all just did a little more in the way of notes, cards, photos and thank you sharing - well, perhaps the world would be a bit of a better place.

Off to write a letter!

Where did this week go?

First, ever notice how these weeks with a Monday holiday just fly by? They are crazy.

At work we try to cram in all the meetings that we usually cram into a normal five day week.

This week is especially bad because there are two conferences coming up this month that I have to speak at which automatically means I have to spend time around the clock thinking about what to put into the PowerPoints, ensuring we have proper video footage, creating a mobile app of the presentation and signing up for some QR codes so people in the audience can just hold their phone up and snag the web address.

Fun stuff actually...to have to talk about mobile!

But, then a friend had foot surgery and instead of just dropping her off and picking her up...I spent about 30 hours with her since I'm the person who signed the form at the hospital saying "this person will be monitored for 24 hours after surgery." Yikes. Such responsibility.

However, we did talk A LOT and she was a very good patient. So, that ended up being a great use of time. A co-worker even came to the hotel we were staying in (so she wouldn't have to climb stairs) and worked with me on one of the presentations until 10:30 p.m. one night. Now, that is dedication on her part.

Today was spent on recovering, doing some work, and ensuring that I get enough rest for the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure in downtown DC tomorrow. I get to go with a great friend. A friend that I've gone to 5-6 Race for the Cure races here in the last 10 years or so.

So, yes, this week went fast. But, it was good.

It was spent with the right people, doing the right things and feeling like this is what a week in my life should be all about.

Good Samaritan - India Style

There are a lot of great people out there and this man ranks at the top of the list.



What an amazing force for good each of us can be - regardless of where we live, what we do for a living, or what our skillsets are - though we can use our unique talents to help too.

This made me want to do just a little more every day to make a difference in the lives of those around me.

Oh, and this was shared by a man from my church on Facebook today. So, just as important as doing is sharing...as it reminds us all to get out there and give and love just a bit more!

I will pray for YOU

Someone said this to me the other day most sincerely. People always say this - at least close friends and people at my church. Public officials even say it on TV. News anchors and dramatic movies reference it. I've said it once in a while myself.

Do we really mean it? Yes, I think so.

My question is this - how many people actually make it a matter of prayer after they make the promise?

My sister and I discussed this for a small moment at Thanksgiving. Both of us realized that we needed to do a better job of actually praying for the people that we intended to pray for on a regular basis.
However bad this sounds, I think I'm going to add people to a special part of my "to do" list so that I reference their names regularly and remember to take time to think of them on a regular basis.

The amazing thing is that when I do pray for others, I think of more ways to help them AND of more people to pray for and feel an immense sense of love toward them.

So, next time I say "I'll pray for you," know that I really do mean it AND really do mean to act on it.

...just don't look over my shoulder at my to do list. (-:

In Honor of our Vets

Today I made a conscious effort to take more pictures of the Vets on the National Mall. It is all about them and what they have done for our country. Even for those wars that are debated as senselessly created by our government, most of those that fought felt they were doing the right thing and put their lives on the line.

As I sat and watched them interact, strut their stuff and rev their bike motors, there were a few moments where it looked like they were 19 years old again (the average age of the solider in Vietnam) with the same insecurities and dreams of "back in the day."

So young and inexperienced in life and yet their actions determined so many political outcomes. So much resting on their shoulders when they were probably still worrying about their first girlfriend, if they were going to grow a beard, or if their allowance would cover gas money for their first car.

A new generation of Vietnam vets is in the works right now. They are still young for the most part. They don't get enough recognition and yet most will be paying the price for the rest of their lives (if they haven't already given their life) for the choice to go to battle for our country. This new crop of Vets already visits the National Mall with the Vietnam Vets. I saw them today. Lost limbs, post-traumatic stress, and skill sets that may/may not help them move forward in the modern economy.

They hope it wasn't for nothing.

I hope so too.

I didn't go and didn't want to go. Shame on me on being so selfish and timid.

Luckily, there are other ways to serve. The question is, will I do it? Will I daily pay whatever price for freedom?


I've asked myself this question every time I've visited Gettysburg and the Manassas Battlefield Park. Some of the bloody battlefields of the Civil War. There is a powerful feeling on hollowed ground. Some people fight for their rights, some people fight for others rights and some people fight for the rights of an entire nation. How beautiful is that?

Who am I?