The other day Hattie and I went for a walk. We stopped first to get the mail. Impatient by nature, I immediately opened some of it. There was a letter from our old, dumpy apartment complex saying we still owed them money. Knowing that we had paid in full, I put the mail in the basket under Hattie's stroller and continued walking, planning to call them when I got home.
As I neared the elementary school and turned the corner, a gust of wind surprised us and blew only that letter out of the basket. I started chasing it, but had no luck since I wasn't willing to abandon Hattie in pursuit, nor rush out into traffic. I watched it blow away across an open field, hoping I could remember what it said.
Then a woman in a suburban stopped and asked if I needed that paper. I said, "It would be nice," and she took off. I stood on the corner and waited. I hadn't taken the time to notice what color her car was, so I didn't know who to be watching for. After a few moments I started wondering if she would return. Maybe it blew out of her reach as well. Would she come back and tell me that she wasn't able to get it, or just leave me there? Then I would be standing on the corner for 15 minutes looking for a vehicle that I didn't recognize. But gratefully, I didn't have to wonder long. She pulled right up on the curb and handed me the paper, and I thanked her as much as possible before she drove off.
It just made me realize once again that President Hinckley was right. When he was in Lubbock dedicating the temple he said, "Lubbock doesn't have a lot of personal charm. But the people are great!"
P.S. I was right...we didn't owe our old complex any money.
1 comment:
Great story! Especially Pres. Hinckley's comments. No personal charm, huh? I guess we're really not coming to visit!
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