INASMUCH AS YE HAVE DONE IT . . .

Recently I had a conversation with a friend who shared their bafflement at people who differentiate between 'religious' and 'spiritual' . . . That is a whole big, drawn out conversation that cannot really be condensed into short, concise answers, and those answers might vary according to who was asked, but MY take on the issue is fairly simple (HHAHAHAHAHHA surprised you, didn't I? ME having a simple, short answer to ANYTHING?!?!?) and pretty much revolves around the fact that many people have become disenchanted with organized religion, but still feel some affinity for a higher power and have a sense of 'right' and 'wrong' . . . So saying someone is not RELIGIOUS (no strong affiliation with any organized religion) does not mean that they cannot still be SPIRITUAL (have promptings/inspirations/experiences that FEEL spiritual but do not happen in a church or strictly religious-type setting). At least that is MY take on the matter . . .


I get that . . . even though I would consider (and describe) myself as both . . . I AM a devout Mormon, and my faith means everything to me. I go to church, serve regularly, pay tithing, follow my faith's health code, etc. I do not by any means mean that I am a PERFECT Mormon . . . LOL . . . not at all . . . but my faith DOES mean a great deal to me . . . it RESONATES with me. I do not mind if you do not share my faith or even my opinion of my faith, I just hope -- with all my heart -- that you find something that brings the same kind of hope and contentment and peace and meaning to your lives that my faith brings to mine . . .


Spirituality also means a great deal to me. I try very hard to be kind, to look for good in people, to follow through on promptings and feelings I get that feel like inspiration. Are they always inspiration? Maybe, maybe not. Probably not. And I certainly don't claim to do THAT perfectly, either . . . but again, I try. I really try.


This post really isn't about that particular debate, though (religious vs spiritual) . . . I just had an experience last night that made me remember the recent conversation about it.


I had an appointment to go visit a woman from my church this evening. I am just getting to know her, but enjoying the chance to visit with her once a month. She is a sweetheart of a woman, a single mom whose only son is currently far away, serving a mission for our church, and she is so proud of the work he is doing, and loves to share his letters with me. Visiting her is real treat.


Anyhow, I got ready to go, and told my husband I would fix him dinner as soon as I got back, and ran out and got in my car. It wasn't until I was a few blocks away from home that I glanced at the clock in my car and realized I was going to be way early for my appointment with her. Since she asked me to come right after she got home from work, if I went early there was a good chance she wouldn't be there yet, but it wasn't really enough to time to go back home OR decide to do some window shopping or something.


While I was trying to decide what to do, I noticed that my car was on fumes, so I decided to go get gas, which was about perfect for the amount of time I had to kill before I could go to her home. I didn't go to the gas station I usually go to, but decided to go to a different one that was sort of on the way. No big deal.


I pulled into the station, and immediately wished that I HAD gone to my usual gas station because this one was right near a freeway off/on ramp and was CROWDED. I pulled up to the one empty pump, only to discover that it was out of order, so I had to circle around to another pump, and some little car cut in front of me, stealing the recently vacated pump I was headed for. I backed up and tried for another one, and the same thing happened again, so I finally just pulled in behind some little car, resigned to wait, and figuring that a little car probably has a little-ish gas tank and would fill quickly and be gone. Eventually he did leave, and I pulled up.


After inwardly groaning at just HOW expensive gas is (at this particular station the grade I get was $4.74.9 / gallon), I quickly realized that this fill up was probably going to cost me $100 easily. I said a few bad words under my breath, and as I began to pump my gas, out of the corner of my eye I saw a man a little ways off walking towards the gas station with a gas can in his hand. I wasn't really paying attention to him, I could just see him (sort of) in my peripheral vision and the thought jumped into my mind "You should offer to put some gas in his gas can".


I quickly squelched that thought, I mean, I was already going to have to pay a small fortune to fill my own tank and was grumbling about that . . . Surely someone with a smaller, less thirsty car could help him out. The thought to help him didn't feel particularly like inspiration, more like intuitive logic. Someone WALKING to a GAS station with a GAS can is pretty likely in need of gas, right? DUH . . .


About three minutes later, I wasn't even particularly surprised to hear a soft, hesitant voice say, "Excuse me, ma'am . . . I ran out of gas and was wondering if you could help me out . . . " I turned toward the voice, all ready to smile apologetically and say "I am so sorry, but it is all I can do to keep my own tank filled" when I remembered the thought I had had just a few minutes earlier, and found myself saying, instead, "Well, it will take awhile for me to fill my own tank, but if you don't mind waiting, I could put some gas in your gas can."


He assured me that he didn't mind waiting, and thanked me in advance for my help, while I mentally kicked myself and pondered how to get out of paying for his gas.


LOL. I TOLD you I wasn't perfect.


I finally decided that it wouldn't kill me to put a couple of dollars worth of gas into his can until I glanced at the pump again, and realized that 'a couple of dollars' wouldn't even buy ONE gallon. Since I had just been groaning about what it would take to fill my own tank, the thought of being generous really did sort of stick in my throat like a fish bone, but I kept going back to that thought that had popped into my head before he had even approached me . . . before I even had any idea that he WOULD approach me.


I finally decided that I could/would put ten dollars of gas into his gas can. That wasn't a fortune, though it was more than I might usually offer, and while I was so deep in thought, wrestling with my dilemma, it took me a minute to realize that he was talking to me again.


He asked if he could wash my windows since I was going to help him with gas, and I laughed and said 'oh man, my car is SO dirty . . . clean windows will look kind of funny on it, wont they?" He glanced at my car and smiled and said, "Wow, it really IS pretty dirty, isn't it?" (I have this thing about cars being a daddy job . . . I do ALL the cooking and cleaning and laundering and my house is always -- except for this past week because of the company -- clean and orderly, but my car is always kind of messy because I think if I do all that stuff INSIDE the house, my spousal unit should have to take care of the cars. He, however, disagrees and while he keeps HIS car shiny and clean, mine is always messy and dirty, and one of our smart ass sons loves to write (with his finger) on the back window "If only my wife was this dirty", because he thinks it is hilarious . . . I am less amused).

Anyhow, he seemed to really want to wash my windows, so I finally said if he wanted to, that would be nice, and I would appreciate it. He put the gas can down, and began working on the windows. When I finished filling my car (and yeah, the total was OVER a hundred dollars, which again made me wish I could just give him a few dollars and excuse myself) I asked him, "Do I just put the nozzle in this little hole thingie?" Which brought him scrambling back to tell me he would hold the gas can in case it splashed any gas back.


We finally got a little over $10 in the can, and he thanked me for my generosity, and I thanked him for washing my windows, and he said, "But I haven't yet done the windshield, if you can please wait a moment, I will wash it, too". At that moment a gas station employee came up to him and told him that he had to leave the premises, that they would not allow him to harass their customers. He tried to explain that he had run out of gas, but she just waved away his explanation and demanded that he leave, then walked off.


He looked so embarrassed that I felt bad for him, and after she left, he again asked me to wait so he could finish my windshield. When he walked past me, I said "I am sorry that my tank took so long to fill and that made you get in trouble." Then I climbed in my car, and when he finished the windshield, I smiled and waved and mouthed 'thank you' through the window then I drove off.


I know that was no big deal . . . Ten dollars worth of gas isn't going to make or break me financially. I have no idea who he was or where he was going when he ran out of gas . . . I just know -- with everything in me -- that I was there at that gas station at that time to help him. I don't know how I know that . . . or why I am so sure . . . but I am.


I will never see that man again, and honestly, I probably wouldn't recognize him if I did . . . but that doesn't matter . . . Even my initial crappy attitude didn't matter . . . I KNOW that I left early for my appointment (without realizing it) and saw the low gas light at that moment so that I would go to THAT gas station at that precise time to be there when he arrived.


To ME, that experience was spiritual, not religious . . . In fact, even though I don't understand why, I know that it was significant . . . I guess I know this in the same way I know that I was meant to help him.


All the way to my appointment, I had the SWEETEST assurance -- that I cannot even begin to adequately express in words -- that I had done the 'right' thing . . . and that my heavenly father was pleased with me.



That random, unexpected little experience of helping a stranger out with $10 worth of gas just may have been one of the most spiritual experiences that I have had in awhile . . . I don't know why or even how it was so significant . . . I just know that it was . . .





And I wanted to write it down before I forgot . . . so I am sharing it here . . .



Next time, I REALLY hope that I wont start out so begrudgingly . . .

And after giving some more thought, I realized something very interesting. Had a stranger approached ME at that gas station and offered (insisted?) on paying for MY gas (a substantially more significant investment) the experience would not have been as powerful a reminder that the Lord knew me . . . was aware of my concerns . . . AND that He could trust me to be a blessing in the life of a total stranger . . . THAT experience was absolutely AMAZING . . .

HELLO . . . YEAH, IT'S ME AGAIN . . . NOT MUCH . . . HOW ABOUT YOU . . .

It occurs to me that most of what I have blogged here over the time that I have had this blogger account has been spent discussing why I blog so infrequently . . . This occurred to me out of the blue once, when in the midst of some deep introspection, one of my boys said 'mom, I don't read your blog because it is boring . . . all you do is whine about how you never blog'. LOL. Yeah . . . nothing like a little friendly wake up call by someone who loves you dearly and doesn't know how to be honest gently to provide much needed insight, right?


So . . . yeah, I am boring.


Big deal. Most of us are . . . honestly. I mean, NOBODY is endlessly witty and insightful and entertaining . . . right? Why should I expect to be any different? I began this blog as an exercise (sort of) after thinking about a part in an old movie ("Bridges of Madison County" or something like that, I think . . . I didn't even LIKE the movie, and never read the book, but at the end of it the woman's daughter and son are going through her cedar chest and discover some things that make them realize that they had never really known their mom as a PERSON . . . just as their mom. That seemed sad to me . . . and I decided that I would try to give my family members a chance to know ME . . . just as a person, not as their mom or aunt or sister or wife . . . just as, well, ME.


HMMMMMM . . . well, the jury was out for awhile, but apparently the 'ME' I was attempting to share is pretty dang boring. LOL.


OK . . . I can live with that. I don't know if I did a very good job of sharing myself here . . . but that is okay. I am aware that there are HUGE reservoirs of boringness in me . . . and sometimes I even bore myself. However, there are also times that I amaze myself, and to be honest, I really DO like being me . . . but my life is not such a thrill-a-minute that I would expect anyone else to want to BE me . . .


And I can live with that . . .


I am NOT, by any stretch of the imagination a finished product . . . and that does surprise me. I have spent most of my life assuming that when people got to 'my age' (which years ago I might have classified as 'old' but which NOW seems quite Spring chickenish) they were less works-in-progress and more polished. Either I am not that aware (always a possibility) or I just don't have it together quite as well as other . . . um . . . 'spring chickens' . . . ish . . . (also a possibility) . . . but I am definitely still learning, still growing, still discovering, still evolving . . . which is interesting (at least to ME), but also a little disconcerting. Fot some reason, I thought all my rough edges would be more polished by now . . . How kind of depressing to think that the people I spent my life looking up to were maybe just like ME . . . mere mortals . . .


Anyhow, be that as it may . . . this is kind of an unexpectedly stretchy time in my life . . . with some hard things happening/going on . . . and I find myself less ready to turn these experiences into Sacrament Meeting talks with the little standard pat answers to my very real questions and concerns. Oh, I haven't lost my faith. Not at all. I KNOW that my Heavenly Father is aware of what is going on AND that He is in charge and has a plan for my life. I also know that He sees a bigger, clearer picture than I do, and that things that don't seem to make sense NOW . . . WILL be understood and probably even appreciated somewhere down the road.


I heard the neatest story in Stake Conference awhile back that has stuck in my head, even though the details are fuzzy and I may not get them exactly right. Still, I want to try to write it down here before I forget it completely.


A woman was out shopping and came across some absolutely beautiful carved wood music boxes. Knowing how much her little daughter would love something so girly and lovely she purchased one for her, to surprise her daughter with on Christmas morning. On her way out of the store, she saw a much simpler, much smaller, and much less expensive version of the wooden music box, and remembering that her daughter was going to a friend's birthday party soon, purchased that for her daughter to give as a gift.


When she showed her daughter the small music box that she could wrap up for her friend, the little girl promptly burst into tears, sobbing "I don't WANT to give this to MaryAnn . . . I want to keep it for ME . . . I have ALWAYS wanted a wooden music box!!!" She could NOT be consoled, as hard as her mother tried to do so. The irony did not escape her mom . . . The girl WOULD be receiving a music box soon . . . a much nicer one than the one she was giving her friend, and yet the girl didn't know about the second music box, and so she was absolutely CERTAIN that the music box she was supposed to wrap up for her friend, was EXACTLY what she wanted.


The speaker then went on to say that trusting in the Lord means JUST that . . . TRUSTING him . . . Trusting Him when things don't go the way you had hoped or planned, and you are absolutely CERTAIN that the righteous desires of your heart are mistakenly slipping away, out of your grasp . . . Trusting that He DOES have a plan . . . and that sometimes when what you want and hope for and dream about doesn't seem to be working out, it IS because the Lord has something much better in store for you . . . You need to trust His plan when he takes (pries?) the small music box out of your fingers, and be willing to be patiently confident that it will be replaced with something even better.


I don't know if my retelling the story makes much sense tonight . . . but maybe that doesn't even matter. Maybe *I* am the one that needed to be reminded of that thought . . .


Yeah . . . I suspect that I really did write all this for ME . . . I may not be as witty or entertaining or insightful as I could be . . . but I want most to be AUTHENTIC . . . and tweaking things to entertain an audience (LOL, like I have one) will interfere with what I want (and perhaps need) this experience to be.


So . . . sorry, but this is ME . . . warts and all . . .


(Um, except I really don't have any warts, honest, but you know what I mean.)