To serve is noble. It brings a peace that passes understanding. It knits hearts together and blesses both the giver and the receiver. It is gratifying and miraculous to receive, but giving adds a glorious dimension to life.
It was two weeks ago today that we gathered as a Stake Relief Society to sew pillowcases and make quilts for a women’s shelter. I remember walking into the gymnasium where dozens of women were milling about with yards of fabric in hand, piecing together matching fabrics, folding, cutting and ironing. There were a dozen sewing machines humming and brand new pillows were piled on the floor under the stage. Tables were covered with fleece blankets, circled by smiling women tying the ends. The whole scene reminded me of a lovely beehive.
I decided to help at an area I knew I could be successful–ironing. Sewing has never been a great talent of mine, but ironing I could do. My job might have seemed meaningless, only it wasn’t to me. I ironed pieces of unfinished pillowcases for a few minutes, but soon completed pillowcases started piling on the stage behind me. I ironed each and every one in the pile.
The lights shinig down on me were as warm as the iron, making me feel all aglow inside. Music played off to my right–songs by Hilary Weeks. In one song she sang of never knowing what a difference we make as we bless the lives of those around us. Tears stung my eyes and blurred my vision for a brief moment. I imagined sorrowing women accepting these hand-sewn pillowcases I was ironing and stroking the fabric as if it were the most beautiful gift in the world. I imagined their heads falling into their new pillows draped in a beautiful pillowcase and feeling a comfort perhaps never experienced.
I thought of my own iron at home sitting on the shelf collecting dust. The only time it gets used is when my husband irons his clothes for work. I don’t even iron our clothes–I thought to myself–let alone my family’s pillowcases and yet here I am carefully pressing and folding these. Why? Because these pillowcases are not for me. They are for Him. And they must be the very best. The scripture from Matthew flashed through my mind:
“Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink?
“When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee?
“Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?
“And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”
Time passed and the women finished up their tasks to congregate at the dinner tables. But since I had arrived late, I kept working until the last possible minute. I just couldn’t leave until all the pillowcases in the pile had been ironed. I was nearly finished when I noticed a lady carefully place a pillowcase on top of the pile. I instantly recognized it. It was sewn from the fabric I had donated a few weeks before. It was beautiful. I smiled to myself and felt a sweet and tender approval from my Father in heaven. My work had been accepted. My service was enough.
And my peace? It was overflowing…
