The story took place on a stormy April afternoon. It was General Conference weekend and Salt Lake City was abuzz with activity. A light rain was falling and had been doing so all morning. I arrived at 10 A.M. intent on playing for the folks coming and going from the various sessions of the L.D.S. conference. I also wanted to be a positive force in a sea of negativity. A tide brought on by those wishing to destroy the faith of others, merely because of a difference in ideology. There they were, gathered in menacing groups, holding their signs with meaningless jargon. Some were peacefully standing, while others were shouting and railing against the mass of humanity, making their way to the massive conference center. Their rants sounded something akin to an old Baptist minister preaching hell fire and damnation from the pulpit.
For almost five hours, I played various hymns on the pipes. Loud and long, the strains filled the air, muffling the discordant antagonists as they plied their trade. It was a thing to behold. The lone piper playing outlawed tunes on outlawed pipes (OK, that might be a bit melodramatic, but hey, it's my story.) However, all this is secondary to the real point of this article; for what I witnessed later that day would stay with me for the rest of my life, as a humble and powerful example of true Christianity.
It was now 5 P.M. and I had played my pipes for nearly five hours. Those of you who play, will understand when I say that I had a "Bagpipe Headache". My head felt as though it would explode every time I exerted myself. Unfortunately, my stubborn nature would not allow me to quit.
Who is the master here? I asked myself.
I was now playing at the south end of Temple Square, across from Deseret Book Store. It was overcast, but fairly warm with a slight breeze coming out of the west. As I prepared to strike in the drones, I noticed a familiar face. I didn't actually know her, but I had seen her numerous times on T.V. and in magazines. It was Sherri Dew! As she walked by I said,
"Aren't you Sherri Dew?"
Sherri turned and smiled at me. I could see the unbidden thought in her head,
"Oh great, I can't even walk down the street anymore."
It was probably just my imagination, for she certainly did not convey that sentiment. We spoke briefly. She asked how I learned the pipes, or something like that. I'm not sure how it came up, but I mentioned the bagpipe headache I was experiencing. She smiled and apologized to me and then was off to some other destination.
I forgot our chance meeting and continued to rend the air with the intrusive tones of my surly Celtic instrument. I just love the bagpipes. They have the ability to say "I Love you" and make you wish you had never met them. On and on I played. The pipes were in tune and singing beautifully. Unfortunately, the annoying pain in my head was like having the whole drum corp accompany me, up close and personal.
Then, in my peripheral vision, I noticed two people approaching. I turned and noticed it was Sherri, with her friend, walking toward me. She approached in a take charge manner, much like a mother taking care of a sick child.
"OK, you've got Aspirin, Ibuprofen, or Tylenol. Pick your poison!"
There she stood, holding a bottled water and several packets of pain relievers. It was so unexpected that I didn't know what to say. I gratefully accepted her kind offering, and thanked her. She acted as if it were no big deal; something she routinely did for people. In an instant, she disappeared in the flow of bodies filing past and was gone. I was left to ponder what had transpired.
I had witnessed a sermon on selflessness and service. The words of the Savior echoed in my mind,
"Go and do thou likewise."
I will ever be grateful that the Lord sent a wise servant to teach me the meaning of service, first hand. It doesn't take great need to be of service; Sherri taught me that small acts of kindness have a lasting impact on the lives of those we meet. I am trying to "Go and do thou likewise."
