Kindness To A Neighbor

When I was a deacon, I loved baseball; in fact, I still do.
I had a fielder's glove inscribed with the name "Mel Ott."
He was the Darryl Strawberry of my day.
My friends and I would play ball in a small alleyway behind the houses where we lived.
The quarters were cramped but all right, provided you hit straight away to center field.
However, if you hit the ball to the right of center, disaster was at the door.
Here lived a lady who would watch us play, and as soon as the ball rolled to her porch her English setter would retrieve the ball and present it to Mrs. Shinas as she opened the door.
Into her house Mrs. Shinas would return and add the ball to the many she had previously confiscated.
She was our nemesis, the destroyer of our fun--even the bane of our existence.
None of us had a good word for Mrs. Shinas, but we had plenty of bad words for her.
The windows of her house received more special soap treatment on Halloween than did any other.
None of us would speak to Mrs. Shinas, and she never spoke to us.
She was hampered by a stiff leg which impaired her walking and must have caused her great pain.
She and her husband had no children, lived secluded lives, and rarely came out of their house.

This private war continued for some time--perhaps two years--and then an inspired thaw melted the ice of winter and brought a springtime of good feelings to the stalemate.
One night as I performed my daily task of hand-watering our front lawn, holding the nozzle of the hose in hand as was the style at that time, I noticed that Mrs. Shinas's lawn was dry and turning brown.
I honestly don't know what came over me, but I took a few more minutes and, with our hose, watered her lawn.
This I did each night, and then when autumn came, I hosed her lawn free of leaves as I did ours and stacked the leaves in piles at the street's edge to be burned or gathered.
During the entire summer I had not seen Mrs. Shinas.
We had long since given up laying ball in the alley.
We had run out of baseballs and had no money to buy more.

Then early one evening, her front door opened, and Mrs. Shinas beckoned for me to jump the small fence and come to her front porch.
This I did, and as I approached her, Mrs. Shinas invited me into her living room, where I was asked to sit in a comfortable chair.
She went to the kitchen and returned with a large box filled with baseballs and softballs, representing several seasons of her confiscation efforts.
The filled box was presented to me; however, the treasure was not to be found in the gift, but rather in her voice.
I saw for the first time a smile come across the face of Mrs. Shinas, and she said, "Tommy, I want you to have these baseballs, and I want to thank you for being kind to me."
I expressed my own gratitude to her and walked from her home a better boy than when I entered.
No longer were we enemies.
Now we were friends.
The Golden Rule had again succeeded.

-Thomas S. Monson -A Royal Priesthood -April 1991 General Conference

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

-Sarnic Dirchi

The Dream

I dreamt about work....we had just finished doing some sort of inventory process and were getting ready to sell our stuff again, as the customers came in. Only...they had gone back into receiving. A strict no customer zone. So it was my job to direct them away from the little shops back there and into the main part of the store....

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

-S.N.D