Fried Chicken Lesson

Now as a mom to four, Relief Society president, and default book keeper for our business, I had become buried in my responsibilities.   I was barely scraping something together to put on the table and keeping up with the laundry.  I worked feverishly to prepared our financial statements in time for our tax appointment in between feedings and coloring and listening to my budding reader (as she demanded my undivided attention.)  Brent's new business was preparing to host it's first planter clinic and I got to help as the event planner (compiling addresses, designing an invitation, and working with the caterer.)  It appeared as if an infinite number of ladies needed visits, and I was confined to my own home trying to keep that baby healthy.  As the icing on the cake, another funeral presented itself, so I was spending time on the phone with the with the family and our compassionate service to coordinate the luncheon.  I volunteered to fetch the fried chicken for the funeral (since it was most compatible with the baby's feeding needs and my kindergartener's schedule.)

It just so happened that I found myself at the grocer's deli just a few minutes before the chicken was ready.  I panned the produce section looking for something fresh to contribute to my emptying refrigerator during my minute or two of waiting time.  That was when I spotted a lady I had not seen in quite awhile.  I approached her, rustled up a conversation, and helped her find the cheapest tomatoes.  She was waiting for me at the cart return to tell me the good news of her son's just-completed surgery and then we exchanged parting words in the parking lot just before climbing into our vehicles.  I delivered the chicken to our meeting house and then hurried home to meet my kindergartner.  Mission accomplished!

The following Sunday, I had made arrangements with the baby so I could be at church.  After Relief Society, this same sister pulled me aside.  I could not remember the last time I had seen her at church, much less all three meetings.  Teary-eyed, she told me thanks.  She attributed her attendance that day to the care and concern I had shown her at the grocery store. 

I was humbled. 

I was not at the grocery store for her, I was just picking up chicken, doing my duty.  But I realized that the Lord can still use me.  Even if I was overwhelmed and running hectic.  He knows our hearts.  I was reminded that people are the ones that matter.  Not schedules or to-dos.  People.  Big people or little people.  And as a mother, I have several of my own 'little people' that need my care and concern more than anyone or anything else.  I need to remember that.

If all life's lesson were taught as well as fried chicken smells.