Mr. Most Important

The youngest son informed me a while ago that my blog posts have gotten a little boring. It seems that all I talk about is the grandson and I never talk about him anymore.

I would like to remind him, that 2nd only to gratitude, he scores the highest number of label links of any topic in my blogdom  (He should just go back and read some of those posts, and I'm sure he does.)

However today, I am writing this post in his honor.

Today I had signed up to volunteer at the Bishop's Storehouse.  For any of you who don't know, a bishop is the local leader of a church congregation (ward) in the LDS church. If a family is in need of food they can go to their bishop and he will assess their need and help them figure out solutions.  One of the things he can do is offer them a food order.  Usually the bishop, or the leader of the ward women's organization (the Relief Society), will help them fill out a form with about 5 columns of basic food and other necessities of life, such as toilet paper, toothpaste and cleaning supplies, included on it.  This form is then taken by a member of the family to the Bishop's Storehouse, which is similar to a small grocery store attached to a large warehouse. Then volunteers there will help the individual select and bag their "groceries, complete with carry out service and a smile, all at no cost to the family.

The Bishop's Storehouse is almost completely manned by volunteers, some who are called to serve a mission to the storehouse and serve there, perhaps one day each week for an extended period of time, and some who come perhaps once a year as an assignment given to their ward. Individuals who receive commodities from the storehouse may also volunteer to give service there so that they can feel like they have done something in return for what they have received.

So, back to the story.  The youngest son heard that I was going to spend sometime at the storehouse and offered to go with me.  This surprised me a little bit, but made me a lot happy.

On the way to the storehouse the youngest son had to continually impress upon me the great sacrifice he was making in accompanying me.  This is his way and I am quite used to it.  I just reinforced how glad I was that he chose to come and that it would be a good experience.

We got there, signed in, donned name tags and had a short orientation.  There were 10 volunteers from our ward and about that many storehouse missionaries, mostly men and women around my age.  As soon as we were done learning how to serve, one of the older missionaries came up to me and asked if he could borrow my strapping young son for a special job and calling him by name took him away. He made a point of telling the son how glad he was that he was there and how grateful they were for his service.

Volunteers at the storehouse not only accompany and assist patrons, but they are also responsible for keeping the shelves stocked and orderly, including the refrigerated sections, and sorting and packaging produce.  There are a lot of jobs to keep a lot of volunteers busy but it seemed like we had more than enough volunteers today and had opportunity to spend some time visiting and getting to know one another better.  After the son had been missing for about an hour he reappeared and returned to my side.  One of the other missionaries, a woman, asked him if he was there by his own free will and choice and I quickly informed her that yes he had volunteered.  He then commented that it was quite a sacrifice too because he had to get up early.  Well, our shift started at 11:30 AM so the the sister kind of raised her eyebrows and then laughed out loud when he added that he got up at 9:30.  She thought it was so funny that she had to go around and share the story with all the other volunteers.  Soon, the youngest son was being commended by all the workers on his willingness to sacrifice and being praised for his efforts and thanked profusely for his service. The male missionary who had first befriended him continued to take a special interest in him, and kept finding him meaningful opportunities to help and as a mother who wants her children to have positive experiences, I was grateful.

When our shift ended and we were leaving, EVERYONE, called him by name and thanked him for coming.  It got to the point where I wondered if perhaps I was invisible or if maybe my name tag was written in invisible ink and I was the only one who could read it, but then I remembered -  I love to serve and I will continue to come to the Bishop's Storehouse regardless, but if this "moment of notoriety" leaves a lasting impression on my son and helps him to have a desire to serve again I will gladly fade into the woodwork and let him be Mr. Most Important.
  
And to top it all off that wonderful, service-oriented son, pulled his name tag off and slapped it on my back so I would feel important too.  That's just the way he is.

I appreciated that he didn't stick it on one of the grocery carts for another volunteer to have to volunteer to remove. Perhaps he learned something today too.

Today I am grateful for

opportunities to serve.

others who give service and make serving an enjoyable experience for everyone involved.

our bishop.  The hubby and I got to meet with him tonight for a few minutes for tithing settlement and I appreciate his faith in me and my family, as well as his leadership and love.