An acquaintance of mine who lives in my neighborhood who took the time to elicit from an acquaintance of his seven written pages of memories this man had of my father. My father died when I was 19--that was well over 20 years ago. The man who wrote the memories knew my father from before I was born. The neighbor of mine worked with this man in Brazil recently and, from the goodness in his heart, desired to solicit this beautiful gift and bring it back to me. I in turn now have a wonderful gift with which to surprise my mother, my grandmother and my siblings at Christmas time.

A beautiful Sunday School lesson in which I was reminded to serve not with duty, but with caring and love. I work hard to do that anyway, but I find it much more difficult to accomplish as I get caught up in the crazy busy-ness of my world. The reminder was heartfelt and lovingly expressed and I hope the message will stay with me.

A daughter who will be painfully honest with me about feeling pressure from me to achieve something her brothers achieved when they were her age. It gives me a chance to have that conversation with her in which I reassure her I love her for being who she is and that I only want things for her that I think will make her happy--and my desires for her are in no way related to expectations attached to anyone else. I don't know if she believed me, but at least I got to listen to her heart and give her back piece of my own.