"We seldom get into trouble when we speak softly. It is only when we raise our voices that the sparks fly and tiny molehills become great mountains of contention."
Way
back in 2005, I heard a sermon that many of us still remember. The
speaker (Elder David A. Bednar) talked about tender mercies, a term
that is mentioned numerous times in the Old Testament and in The Book
of Mormon. If you want to listen to the talk, you will find it here.
People
are still talking about that sermon, and with good reason. It opened
a lot of eyes and touched a lot of hearts.
Elder
Bednar explained that tender mercies are the little things that God
sometimes does just to show us that He loves us and knows about us,
even though our cares and concerns should seem microscopically
insignificant to someone so powerful. These are usually not direct
answers to prayer, but are often sent our way just to remind us that
we are loved and our concerns have not been forgotten.
One
of the examples he gave told how nervous he was when he was first
asked to speak in front of a large congregation. Right before he
spoke, the audience stood and sang a hymn. This was his favorite
hymn, and one that had always brought peace and confidence to his
soul. He had nothing to do with the choice of the music for that
meeting, so he was astounded at the song selection, and on the
calming effect it had upon him. It was as if God were saying to him,
“I know you’re nervous, but I love you and know that you
will do a good job.”
I
guess I was thinking of this because of the tender mercy I received a
week ago.
We
went grocery shopping, which is a typical Saturday ritual for us. Our
tradition is that Fluffy pays for the staples at the supermarket, and
I will often pay for just a few little treats that we can share. So
he will buy the milk, eggs, produce, and meat, and I will buy
something fun like a triple-berry pie or ice cream. It’s my way
of showing my appreciation for all the things that Fluffy does for
me. He pays for the necessities, and I pay for the treats.
Because
I am trying to get out of debt, I have put myself on a strict budget.
I have one of those pre-loaded debit cards, and Fluffy transfers my
allowance onto the card at the first of each month. When the card
stops working, my spending stops for that month.
By
the third week of August I thought I was in pretty good shape,
because my check register said I still had $154 to get me through the
month. But then I checked my balance on the bank’s website, and
was shocked to see I only had $37 left to get me through almost two
weeks.
When
Fluffy listed the card transactions, he found several large purchases
that I had failed to record, and a couple where the amount I recorded
was too low. (The largest purchase was something Fluffy had made for
me and then had failed to give me the receipt, so I wasn’t the
only one who fell down on the job!) August was also an unusual month
because of three birthdays, a wedding, and two pairs of shoes I had
to purchase to wear over my leg bandages, so I should have known I
didn’t have as much money as I thought I did.
The
prospect of two weeks without any money to spend was more than a
little distressing. This was not something that was going to ruin my
life, mind you, but it was something that made me a little sad
because I couldn’t spoil Fluffy in the way I wanted to do.
Fluffy does so many good things for me that he deserves all the
spoilage he can get.
Accordingly,
I limited my spending Saturday at the grocery store to just a few
items, fervently wishing that I could buy more.
When
we got home and started unpacking the groceries, the first thing I
noticed was an entire plastic sack full of items that we did not put
in our cart. This was a pain in the neck, because we live more than
ten miles from the supermarket and we weren’t intending to
return for more than a week.
We
did a quick inventory of the things we hadn’t purchased, but
that had ended up in our sack. This is what we found:
One small onion
5 medium-sized apples
A tray of fresh fruit (from the salad bar)
A tray of handmade California rolls (from the sushi bar)
A tub of gourmet green olives (from the olive bar)
A wedge of expensive Italian cheese (from the cheese department)
Tender (and delectable) mercies.
I’m
not about to steal someone else’s groceries, so I immediately
called the supermarket and talked to one of the managers. He asked
for a complete list of all of the surprise items that had made their
way home with us. He wrote down each item, along with its size and
price.
The
manager informed us that we didn’t need to take the items back.
Because of packaging and sanitation laws, the store would not be
allowed to restock any of the items. He told us to just enjoy them,
and thanked us for calling to let them know. Now if the original
purchaser of the items contacted the store, the manager would have a
list of the items and would be happy to replace them. So it really
was a win-win situation for everyone (although I’m sure the
original purchaser of the items may have been slightly disgruntled to
get home for a sushi, fruit and olive lunch that wasn’t there).
Afterwards,
Fluffy proposed a theory about the origin of the lagniappe items. We
had taken a couple of reusable cloth grocery bags with us, but we put
groceries on top of them and forgot all about the bags. Halfway
through the checkout process, we remembered the bags and gave them to
the employee. She had already started filling several plastic sacks
with our goods, and just put all the plastic sacks inside the cloth
bags.
Fluffy’s
theory is that the mystery groceries belonged to the previous
shopper, a young girl who seemed to be paying more attention to her
cell phone than to the checkout process. He suspects she left one of
her plastic bags in the checkout area, and it just got swept into our
bags without anyone being the wiser.
What
really amazed us were the contents of our mystery bag. None of it was
junk food. None of it was nasty, chemical-laden stuff.
With the possible exception of the onion, which was something Fluffy
usually pays for, the bag contained the same sort of treasures that I
would have been buying if I had not felt so poor.
Both
of us love fresh fruit and olives, and we have a real fondness for
the cheese-stuffed olives and the garlic-stuffed olives that the
previous shopper had chosen. I keep a supply of apples in my office
when I can afford them (and these were the sweet variety that I like
rather than the tart ones that everyone else seems to favor).
Fluffy likes the hard white cheeses, although even when I can afford
to buy them I usually get the cheap Jarlsberg and not a fancy Italian
one with an unpronounceable name. And even though we’re not big
fans of sushi when it contains raw seafood, we do like the cooked
California rolls. So we had a Sunday lunch containing many delicacies
that we never expected to be eating.
A
cynic would look at this experience and just chalk it up as a lucky
coincidence. But I agree with Elder Bednar’s comment after he
described his own tender mercy:
“Some
may count this experience as simply a nice coincidence. But I testify
that the tender mercies of the Lord are real, and that they do not
occur randomly or merely by coincidence.”
As
someone who has had her share of tender mercies, I would have to say
that I strongly share Elder Bednar’s opinion. I hope we always
remember to look for the tender mercies in our lives, and will
acknowledge them not just for the incidents themselves, but for the
evidence they give us that God lives, and that He loves us —
every one.
Kathryn H. Kidd has been writing fiction, nonfiction, and "anything for money" longer than
most of her readers have even been alive. She has something to say on every topic, and the
possibility that her opinions may be dead wrong has never stopped her from expressing them at
every opportunity.
A native of New Orleans, Kathy grew up in Mandeville, Louisiana. She attended Brigham
Young University as a generic Protestant, having left the Episcopal Church when she was eight
because that church didn't believe what she did. She joined The Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-day Saints as a BYU junior, finally overcoming her natural stubbornness because she
wanted a patriarchal blessing and couldn't get one unless she was a member of the Church. She
was baptized on a Saturday and received her patriarchal blessing two days later.
She married Clark L. Kidd, who appears in her columns as "Fluffy," more than thirty-five
years ago. They are the authors of numerous LDS-related books, the most popular of which is A
Convert's Guide to Mormon Life.
A former managing editor for Meridian Magazine, Kathy moderated a weekly column ("Circle of Sisters") for Meridian until she was derailed by illness in December of 2012. However, her biggest claim to fame is that she co-authored
Lovelock with Orson Scott Card. Lovelock has been translated into Spanish and Polish, which
would be a little more gratifying than it actually is if Kathy had been referred to by her real name
and not "Kathryn Kerr" on the cover of the Polish version.
Kathy has her own website, www.planetkathy.com, where she hopes to get back to writing a weekday blog once she recovers from being dysfunctional. Her entries recount her adventures and misadventures with Fluffy, who heroically
allows himself to be used as fodder for her columns at every possible opportunity.
Kathy spent seven years as a teacher of the Young Women in her ward, until she was recently released. She has not yet gotten used to interacting with the adults, and suspects it may take another seven years. A long-time home teacher with her husband, Clark, they have home taught the same family since 1988. The two of them have been temple workers since 1995, serving in the Washington D.C. Temple.