You never know. . . .

Today was one of those days with more to do than time to do it in. I got off to a late start, and I had to meet Christine at Borders, and I didn't want her to have to wait for me because I knew she had to be home at a certain time, etc., so I was a little stressed. One of the things on my "to do" list was to stop at the grocery store and pick up a few things. I parked my car by the front door, but when I finished my shopping I was closer to the back door checkout. If I went through this register, that would mean walking clear up to the front of the parking lot to my car. But then I saw Sylvia at the back door checkout, so I figured it would be worth the walk. I frequently see Sylvia behind the register when I shop at this store, and I always enjoy going through her line. I don't really know Sylvia, and she doesn't know me. But she treats me like she does. I don't mean that she asks me how my kids are or what I'm doing over the weekend. I mean she shows me the same warmth and sincerity she would if she did know me. Her smile is genuine and her laugh is ready. But after all these years, I had never told Sylvia how much I appreciate her. So today I did. I told her how much I enjoy seeing her when I come into the store, how she is always so friendly and cheerful, and how I feel good being around her. The bag-boy standing next to her nodded in agreement, but Sylvia was flabbergasted. She almost recoiled at my words, slapped her hand to her chest, and said, "Me?" As I continued my words of praise and appreciation (and she continued checking out my groceries), she started to get a little emotional and said I was about to make her cry. Then she explained why. One day Sylvia had checked a lady through her line, and the transaction was basically finished except that the customer was digging out 3 cents in change. Meanwhile, Sylvia (in an effort to be industrious and efficient) had started checking through the man who was next in line. The woman was so offended and irate that she went directly to the manager and complained about Sylvia. Now, I don't know how long ago this happened, but it must have been recently enough that it was still on Sylvia's mind. So, my kind words were like balm to a wound for her. I was so grateful that I had spoken up, and I was also very humbled. I was humbled to have been the one to bring her such comfort. But I was also humbled to think that perhaps I had been an instrument of the Lord's in blessing the life of someone else. When I said my prayer over my toast this morning, I asked Heavenly Father to guide and direct me in what I do and say during the day. Maybe I was prompted to talk to Sylvia. If so, we were both blessed by it. It reminds me of a poem a dear friend once sent me. It's called "You Never Know":

You never know when someone
May catch a dream from you.
You never know when a little word
Or something you may do
May open up the windows
Of a mind that seeks the light.
The way you live may not matter at all,
But you never know -- it might.

And just in case it could be
That another's life, through you,
Might possibly change for the better
With a broader and brighter view,
It seems it might be worth a try
At pointing the way to the right.
Of course, it may not matter at all,
But then again -- it might.

So thank you, Sylvia. Thank you for being the kind of person you are. And thank you for helping to remind me that Heavenly Father is listening to my prayers over my morning toast.