Our small part to play

Before I knew what was happening, like I told you before, bags started appearing.  I couldn’t believe what friends had thought of.  Of course they’d need toothbrushes and toothpaste, diapers and wipes.  It’s just that I never thought to run to the store and get them.  Who thinks of things like swimsuits for the boys?  But obviously, if they’re staying at a hotel with a pool, it’d be perfect to have them.

I saw gift cards.  Another friend sells jewelry and brought over some of her wares.  Another brought balls and soft swords, small totes with boredom-busting supplies and snacks. Large 18-gallon totes.  What a great idea.  And work gloves.  Who thinks of these kinds of things?  So obvious now that I’ve seen them.  But wow.  Good thinking.

I’m in awe at the variety of ways friends and others have shown their support to our friends who lost just about everything in their fire.  We know a photographer who can help recover some pictures.  A neighbor brought a beautiful meal that first night.  Another brought over paper goods and sippy cups.  Several friends have invited them to dinner; we almost need a sign-up sheet.  Friends have swooped in to pick up kids.  Some brought Matchbox cars and other small toys.  A brand new stroller.  So handy.  A friend started a list, so our friends could have it later.  Brilliant.  I saw a couple of cash envelopes.  Smart.  So many calls.  So many responses, so many ways of using the variety of strengths we’re given and blessed with, so many unique perspectives and ways of thinking, myriad ways to ease their burdens.

But we don’t need to wait until tragedy strikes to find out what we can do.  Or what others can do.  Why is it at times like these we so confidently and quietly act on what comes naturally?  We don’t even hesitate.  We just each play our part and assume others are doing the same.  Even stranger, we don’t even pay attention to what anyone else is doing.  We don’t even really care.  All we’re thinking about is giving what we can and sharing whatever we have, whether it be an extra part of our house or some extra cans of food.  A note or a pan of cinnamon rolls.  We’re not comparing ourselves and saying absurd things like, “My bag of clothes wasn’t as big as hers.”  “I should’ve bought diapers instead of toys.” It’s hard to even imagine something so asinine.  No one’s keeping track and no one cares, we’re just all part of an orchestra where each instrument’s part, however small and seemingly insignificant, contributes to the whole.  True, I can’t ever pick out the individual instruments in a symphonic number, and I know our friends can’t even begin to keep track either.  But I know the summation of their efforts lifts my spirits and makes my heart soar.  I first heard this sentiment in a talk more than six years ago and I love the man who taught it.  “The Lord did not people the earth with a vibrant orchestra only to value the piccolos of the world.  Every instrument in precious and adds to the complex beauty of the symphony.  All of Heavenly Father’s children are different in some degree, yet each has his own beautiful sound that adds depth and richness to the whole.”*

This truth stands whether we’re pulling together in times of emergency, rallying someone in need, or on an ordinary day, just doing our best to be a light in a dark world.  I’ve said it before, but when we play our part, whatever that looks like, we’re blessing lives.  Interesting that the singers weren’t even the ones on stage this past week, and yet those are the first people who come to mind when we talk about talents.  I didn't see dancers this week, and yet they obviously enrich our lives at other times.  So much of the time we narrow our definition of what talents are, and we long to be or have something more than we are.  Yet this past week has been the perfect showcase for all types.  All contributions were valuable, and so many of the talents and strengths performed behind the curtains, backstage, quietly playing their parts, contributing what they could, inspiring others to do the same.

And so, again, a call out to you as valuable and competent members of the orchestra, and especially as parents and role models.  Let’s remind ourselves and the young ones what talents really are.  What it feels like to contribute their gifts to the world.  If you have voice, sing.  If you have hands that create masterpieces or quilts or pillows or sheds or gardens, build, beautify.  If you have limbs that move in harmony, give it your all in the game or the recital, inspire us to push ourselves, to work for a goal.  If you have a thoughtful mind for poetry, record your sentiments, uplift in your unique way.  Leave your words for us to ponder.  If you understand the innards of computers or the ins and outs of chess, we value your problem-solving skills and the way your minds work.   If you still feel nothing, you just haven’t found it.  It’s there.  But in the meantime, and all the time, we can smile, share a hug, selflessly give our time, reach out a hand to clean and serve and rock a child.  We are all here as instruments, to work together in concert, to bring music and light to a harried world, not only when tragedy strikes.  But even when it hasn’t yet.

* Concern for the one