A Source of Light in a Dreary Day

Do you ever get really down....because your expectations for the day have lowered due to past experiences leading you to believe that even though you hope it will be something different you're sure its going to be the same?
I had that yesterday.
Why?
Well....I had planned this event. And invited a bunch of people to come.
Only to find out the night before that there was another event planned as well at the same time...for basically the same group of people.
And that got me really worried.
For I'd been planning similar events every couple of weeks trying to get more people to come.
And it seemed like that night was going to be a dud as everyone else would go to this other event.
And it was confirmed when a couple of people confirmed that they were going to this other event.
Needless to say....I was really really down upon finding that out, as it made me feel....less important. Relegated to the back of the room where if nothing else is happening then people would come to my event. So I left for the event....really expecting everyone who said they were coming to not show up. Totally making it up in my mind that after this week I wasn't going to do another event like this....because the emotional trauma.....
And so it was in this state of mind that I read this story.....

Long years ago I was touched by a story which illustrated love of neighbor between a small boy named Paul and a telephone operator he had never met.
These were the days many will remember with nostalgia but which a new generation will never experience.

Paul related the story: "When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember that the shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but I used to listen with fascination when Mother would talk to it. Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was 'Information, Please,' and there was nothing she did not know. 'Information, Please' could supply anybody's number and the correct time.

"I learned that if I stood on a stool, I could reach the telephone. I called 'Information, Please' for all sorts of things. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my arithmetic, too.

"Then there was the time that Petey, our pet canary, died. I called 'Information, Please' and told her the sad story. She listened and then said the usual things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was unconsoled. 'Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers, feet up, on the bottom of the cage?' I asked.

"She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, 'Paul, always remember that there are other worlds in which to sing.' Somehow I felt better.

"All this took place in a small town near Seattle. Then we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much. 'Information, Please' belonged to that old wooden box back home, and I somehow never thought of trying to call her. The memories of those childhood conversations never really left me; often in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

"Later, when I went west to college, my plane made a stop in Seattle," Paul continued.
"I called 'Information, Please,' and when, miraculously, I heard that familiar voice, I said to her, 'I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?'

"'I wonder,' she said, 'if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children, and I used to look forward to your calls.' I told her how often I had thought of her over the years, and I asked if I could call her again when I came back west.

"'Please do,' she said, 'Just ask for Sally.'

"Only three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered, 'Information,' and I asked for Sally. 'Are you a friend?' the woman asked.

"'Yes, a very old friend,' I replied.

"'Then I'm sorry to have to tell you. Sally has only been working part-time the last few years because she was ill. She died five weeks ago.' But before I could hang up, she said, 'Wait a minute. Did you say your name was Paul?'

"Yes,' I responded.

"'Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down. Here it is--I'll read it. Tell him I still say there are other worlds in which to sing. He'll know what I mean.

"I thanked her and hung up," said Paul. "I did know what Sally meant."

Sally, the telephone operator, and Paul, the boy--the man--were in reality good Samaritans to each other.

Thomas S. Monson -The Way of the Master- April 1996 General Conference

I left for the event, thinking that 'Well...there are other worlds/places in which to sing.'

And got the pleasant surprise of people showing up! ^^
It was a major relief to see every one's smiling faces and to have them bring people with them so we actually had a bit of a chaotic party going on. ^^
It was so much fun and I was able to relax and think....maybe I can do more events like this. Maybe people will show up... Soo with the event being such a success...I will do it again. :) lol possibly not as often unless others ask for more opportunities. We'll see.
The thing I take away from this, is that this group of people were the good Samaritans in my life. They lifted me back up when I was really down.
And hopefully...I was able to be a good Samaritan back to them as well last night. :)

For I had a BLAST! :) ^^ SO MUCH FUN! To see them so excited ^^

Until you next see these words;
I'll be watching the leaves.
Enjoy the day!

-Sarnic Dirchi

The Dream

There was a small kid on a diving board with black hair and glasses drawing as another kid named Danny Deveto climbed up to the high boards and jumped off into the pool....but as he fell the pool turned to ice. Danny survived, but now there was an attempted murder that we needed to solve. And our only help was the little kid on the diving board to the side of the pool. He'd been painting and the images of a winter/spring scene helped us realize that something was trying to be erased while moving forward (the painting moved about explaining our thoughts.) and was leading us to the next clue when...

The unholy tones of daylight pulled me away....
and I became myself again. :)

-S.N.D