I decided a long time ago that God created me to do "little things". Yesterday as I entered McDade's this pretty little white haired lady approched me as if she was waiting for me. She began to tell me she was in a lot of pain and was going in the hospital for help this morning. She told me all about what she thought caused it and why it happened. She talked non stop for a long time as I picked up tomatos and other stuff. I said very little--just listened. I thought she was very old. 78 and since I am 82 that seemed young . I kept moving on and told her I would be thinking of her this morning while she was in the hospital. I felt like I helped her because she finally moved on smiling. Little things mean a lot. Right?
Betty Boop
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