A decade or so ago, I was working at an office job where I often just felt like a cog in the wheel of the corporate machinery. I spent my days preparing reports that became part of larger reports and often felt that what I did was not important or that if it was considered important, it could be done by anyone. I was expendable and could be easily replaced. I struggled to find satisfaction in the sameness and futility of it all. I longed to do something that I felt made a difference in the world.

This was all brought home to me one day while I was organizing the shelves in the supply room during a slow time when I was caught up on my other duties. No one had told me we were having a visit from one of the higher-ups. Making the rounds, he stuck his head into the supply room where I sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by file folders, Post-it Notes and number 10 envelopes. “Keep up the good work, Sharon .”

Sure. Keep up the good work, whoever you are, whatever you do.

Bright Spots

This week I want to write a letter of thank-you for all the people who take the time to write to me, or any of the columnists, and let us know you enjoyed our message. It may seem like a small thing, but kind words are always a bright spot in my day, reminding me that thanks to Meridian , I have been given an opportunity to do something that makes a difference. I love the few days after my column runs, because I know I will have e-mails from some of the regulars and maybe a new friend or two.

I have made many new friends this way. Some I have had the opportunity to meet in person, and others remain in cyber space. A single lady named Susan in Arizona always responded to my Meridian columns, so when I was headed to Arizona one fall, we set up a fireside in her stake, mostly so that we would have a chance to meet. I stayed in her home for a couple of days and also got to meet her children and grandchildren. Last fall she came to Hawaii with her sister and detoured over to my island so we could spend another couple of days together. After my husband gave her the tour of the Volcanoes National Park , she wanted to know how she could find a wonderful man like him, so I told her how I had done it. LDS Singles Online may not work for everyone, but by March I was invited to a wedding in Arizona . Of course, my motto is the same one I use with my stepchildren. “I don't deserve the credit. I won't take the blame.” Still, so far so good for Susan and Don.

One year at the LDS Booksellers Convention, just as I was about to go up to a well-known author and tell her how much I had enjoyed her last book, I heard her turn to her companion and say, “Let's get out of here before people start coming up to me.” I reevaluated my take on becoming famous and well known. I told myself that maybe it was a blessing to have few enough fans that I was able to talk with them and make friends with them, as opposed to seeing them as a nuisance. I love hearing from people who have read my books. I want to know their favorite parts, what made them laugh and what made them cry and which characters they loved or hated.

I love hearing from my friends Pat and Rex in South Africa . Rex manufactures the abrasive green stuff that goes on the bottom of scrubby sponges. He likes to use my column in Family Home Evenings for the single adults in his stake. I loved finally getting to meet Stephanie from Australia when she and her husband were working in Utah , even though the matchmaking between her daughter and my son didn't work out. They make it possible for me to go to high school reunions and say I have fans all over the world, even if they are few and far between.

Making a Difference

A couple of years ago when I was visiting in Utah, I felt I should look and see if I could find an address and phone number for a lady who had written a few e-mails to me after reading my columns. I knew she was a widow and that she lived in Ogden , and I was able to find the information I needed thanks to her unusual last name. My plan was to leave Idaho , where I had been visiting family, early enough that I would have time to stop and visit with her on my way down to a meeting at Deseret Book in Salt Lake . As I approached Ogden , I realized there was no way I had time to stop and still make it to the meeting on time. Maybe next trip, I told myself. I hurried on to Salt Lake and my meeting. Afterwards, however, that nagging feeling was still there. Instead of heading further south to Provo where I was spending the night, I turned around and headed back to Ogden , dialing the phone number I had written down. The lady who answered the phone sounded pretty down but she perked up considerably when I told her who I was and that I was going to bring in dinner.

Earlier that week as I had visited a craft store in Rexburg gathering supplies for upcoming presentations, I'd ignored feelings that I should buy a couple of the rocks painted like ladybugs. Each time I had purchased something, there was the container of ladybug rocks there by the cash register. I had spoken back to the feelings.

My presentation is on lemons, not ladybugs.

Sure, they're cute, but I'm buying enough other stuff.

What am I going to do with a couple of rocks painted like ladybugs?

When Jean opened the door, I saw that her house was filled with ladybugs. Not live ones, but ladybug lamps and ladybug needpoint pillows and ladybug slippers. That's how it often works for me. Oh, that was a prompting. I felt so bad that I hadn't purchased the ladybug rocks.

As we visited and ate our sandwiches, she told me that it was the anniversary of her husband's death that week and she had been wondering what there was in life for her still to live for. I was grateful that even though I had missed the prompting about the ladybugs, I had listened to the part about paying her a visit. And of course, I will never forget the foot massage she gave me. We were sitting at her table, which had one leg that was a little shorter than the others. In the same breath, she apologized for her wobbly table, and then she asked me if I would mind taking off my pantyhose. I looked at her quizzically and had to ask, “How would me taking off my pantyhose make your table stop wobbling?” She then laughed and told me she wanted to give me a foot massage.

As she washed my feet and rubbed them with oils, I couldn't help but think of how it must have felt to be ministered to by the Savior and how we all need to do a better job of ministering to one another. The following week I received a kind e-mail from her sister who lived far away, thanking me for my visit. She said she had been praying that someone would come to lift her sister's spirits during that difficult week.

So thanks to all of you, for giving me a chance to feel that something I do makes a difference. What you may not know is what a difference you have made to me.