D.I.

It was a beautiful Friday morning. We got up early in order to be at DI by 8:00 AM. for a service assignment. Neither Randy or I had ever done this before and we anticipated learning the "inside" of how DI functions.

When we walked in through the VIP door, it was obviously the vacuum hour. We found ourselves yelling to communicate. We were led to an office door and presented to the secretary. We signed in, were given an official DI apron and color code chart to fit in the pocket. Another couple from our ward joined us. (This would be fun. We could work with our partners. . . NOT!) One by one we were separated and ushered to deep unknowns of this huge facility. Luckily, being the only one left, they found a place for me in the woman's department. (Yesss!) I felt safe there, unlike Randy, who they took deep inside a maze to the "used toy never, never land". (This wasn't a good experience for him!)

I was introduced to the department manager, who had to think hard for something for me to do. Finally, after slowly scanning the place and scratching his chin, he said, "Come 'ere", and motioned to follow him to the "back". Past a huge dry cleaning room that took my breath away because of the humidity, we ended up at a maintenance room. Vacuums, duster sticks, etc. He pushed a vacuum towards me to grab and thankfully led me back out - or I would still be lost in there! I was to join in the chorus of vacuums running. He pointed to a big area of floor. I could handle that.

Carefully I suctioned up every little piece of lint,(surprisingly it was already very well kept). But in my serious cleaning quest, I became aware of another vacuum girl. She was unstoppable as she rounded the corner and kept on rolling, right over the carpet I had just finished. I was confused. Finally I said, "I think we're vacuuming the same areas." I was surprised when she mumbled something inaudible and kept vacuuming. She made no eye contact. No "oh, sorry." With her head down, she just continued to vacuum as if on auto pilot. I actually had to stand back to study her vacuum compared to mine. Did mine only picked up certain kinds of dirt? Was hers a specialized DI vacuum? No. The same vacuum. I was puzzled.

So, I wrapped up my cord and rolled the vacuum back to the manager, explaining the situation. He said, "Don't mind her, she does whatever she wants." I wasn't about to ask questions as I followed him back to the cleaning room again and we traded the vacuum in for a big handled duster on a stick. As we were exiting the double doors, I was surprised to see"vacuum girl", entering. Again, no eye contact was made on her part. No speaking. Just autopilot. I didn't know what to think.
I was to dust off the glass rounders, starting from a certain area in the mens department. I could handle that.

Minding my own "no dust" business, I couldn't help but notice "vacuum girl" coming back out those doors. She seemed to flaunt proudly as she walked by with her own . . . big handled duster on a stick! My reaction? I'm embarrassed to confess. I'm afraid my rusty attitude showed as I felt my nose turn up and my eyes look away. That's when it hit me. I was treating her like I had been treated. It didn't feel right. So I kept my eye on her and at least made sure we didn't over lap. I made my section shine.

Finishing that job, I was escorted back to the womans department. The department manager introduced me to Cindy - "vacuum girl"! She appeared from behind a stack of clothes in the dressing room. I hardly think she saw me. "If there are any questions, Cindy will know the answers", he said. Up until now, I didn't think she even had a voice. I wasn't sure about the situation at all. I was still trying to figure her out. But I was pleasantly surprised when she spoke clearly and helpfully. I had questions from time to time, but at least she acknowledged me. We worked hard. The time went by fast. We organized clothes off of many racks brought out from the back by Cindy. Soon it was 12:00. I was finished with my shift.

It's funny when I first met her she was so unfriendly. But after the vacuum and long handled dusting stick episodes, she didn't seem so bad. Now that I was leaving I didn't feel like just sneaking away. Something in me made me want to thank her and let her know it was good working with her. So I called her attention to the time and made sure she knew I was leaving. In a way, I felt like I would miss her. She looked up and actually looked at me back. I think her eyes sparkled a little. She also was surprised the time had flown by. And she thanked me, too.
I felt better. I still wasn't proud of my reaction to her coldness that morning. but I did learn a valuable lesson.

I don't want to be a "vacuum girl".

Blessings . . .

Good week-ends consist of:

Fulfilling a DI assignment on Friday. . . even though Randy and I, both have interesting stories to tell! (Stay tuned:)

Enjoying the Relief Society broadcast Saturday evening, knowing all the girls I love (mothers and daughters, wherever they live) were each listening to the same broadcast at the same time.

Enjoying good kids who took a chance to go see Train, because of a fundraiser Randy was involved in Saturday night. They were good sports. (At least it wasn't Hall and Oats, like last year!) It's always nice to have them around.

Enjoying our Primary Sacrament program today.

Envisioning Jeff on the stand, strategically placed between "lively" boys during their Primary program, as he represented his and Vita's "class" (one last 11 year old boy). Those kids love Jeff and Vita!

Envisioning Rachael's preparation and performance as their ward's Primary chorister, in their wards program. She did great!

Envisioning Carianne observing their ward's program today, knowing that next week she will step into the Primary 1st Counselor position, in a new Presidency.

Envisioning Rusty on the stand, learning that he was able to extend that call to Carianne one morning this past week.

Learning of Gregg's new calling as assistant ward clerk.

Picturing Brenden, Julianne, and Emmie getting to know a family ward again, giving Emmie a chance to experience a "real" nursery. Knowing they served so well in the singles ward.

Learning of Grandma and Grandpa Buehner's great Primary program today.

Having Carianne, potty trained Kate, Jeff, Vita, Grandma, and Grandpa Buehner over for Sunday dinner.

All gathering around the web cam (Grandma Buehner, risking her bad knees to come down stairs) to oooooo and aawwwww over Emmie, Julianne, and Brenden.

Randy calling to talk to Grandma Clawson, and learning from Jean that he'd have to wait, since she was saying her prayers.

"Called to serve Him . . ."

Blessings

Charity

Last Friday, my Mom and I were on our way to run errands. As we pulled out of the driveway and down the street, I noticed a couple of envelopes in her hand.
I said, "Do we need to stop by the post office first? It looks like you've got mail."
She said, "Oh, no. these are my bragging notes. I want to read them to you."

First, she told me about a friend of hers in the ward, named Naomi. Another of her friends, Molly, had just passed away in the last couple of weeks. Naomi and Molly used to sit together in Sunday School and Relief Society. She said it was really sweet, because right after church, the priesthood would always carry in the two soft chairs from the foyer and place them right in the front row, so Naomi and Molly could see and hear the lesson in comfort.

Now Molly was gone. Naomi would be by herself. It would be hard. As church began that day, Mom looked around, only to catch Naomi's eye. She gestured a wave of "Hello, How are you?" towards Molly. The greeting was reciprocated. After church, Dad went one way and so Mom continued on to Gospel Doctrine to save him a spot. She entered the room, noticing people around Naomi, encouraging her to come and sit by them. Naomi kindly declined. (Being 85, it's hard to get up and down, once you're in your spot.) Mom also headed Naomi's way and quietly sat down next to her.

During the week, the mail came. This was the first note in Mom's hand. It was from Naomi's daughter from a different ward, who had apparently learned of Mom's kindness through Naomi. She said Mom probably had no idea how much her small gesture of just sitting by Naomi meant to her that Sunday. She was so grateful for Mom's attentiveness. It made Mom feel good. "Isn't that sweet?" she said.

Mom opened the next note. It was from Naomi. Her heartfelt gratitude was written, too, for her friendship and love. It made Mom feel really good.

She talked on about another friend, who she decided to call to offer a ride to Molly's funeral. Instead of Mom picking her up, she was delighted to pick up Mom. It felt good.

During the errand drive, I learned how Mom really missed the neighbors across the bike path from them. Not because they moved, but because they planted greenery to block the activity of the active path. Mom used to be able to see them and wave. They had been over for ice cream several times and had lent Dad a hand. She was planning on driving over to extend an invite to hear Jon's group sing.

We pulled in and passed her good neighbors home across the road. The mother had been converted to the church about a year ago, due to friendships and examples - Mom being a part of that. She said, "and since I'm on a roll, I need to invite their family over."

We laughed.

I have thought of her friends and ward support so much. She is what sisterhood is all about. There are so many people in her life that she is connected to. She connects out of love. These are the people that give her strength. She carries on unselfishly and with gratitude. Her own Mother was a wonderful example of that. I'm thankful for Mom's example of charity. It truly "never faileth". No matter what your age.

Another Motto

This really inspires me:

I have come to the frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element.
It is my personal approach that creates the climate.
It is my daily mood that makes the weather.
I possess tremendous power to make life miserable or joyous.
I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration.
I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal.

In all situations it is my response that decides whether a crisis is escalated,
and a person is humanized or dehumanized.

If we treat people as they are, we make them worse.
If we treat people as they ought to be,
we help them become what they are capable of becoming.

Goethe 1749 - 1832