It's the little things.

(Scroll through my playlist and find After the Storm. Listen to it while you read this post.

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I had a pretty horrible day today. I mean nothing ground shattering, nothing in comparison to some of the other things that I've been going through, but just a pretty lousy day. I went with Hilary to her community supported agriculture pick up (fancy terms for going and picking up veggies grown in our community, instead of grown by large companies elsewhere... learn more). The man that was there was helping Hilary load up her box, and I was just being my typical self, humming and swinging my skirt back and forth. He walked over to his car and pulled out a small container of strawberries and came over and handed them to me, "Here, these are for you." And guess what?! Today turned into a good day! Just because this man decided to give me some strawberries. Hilary and I are currently eating them, and they are quite tasty.

This reminded me of one of the greatest little things that has happened to me. So, since I love telling stories (especially when they are my own), I decided that would be my blog this week.

The story of how I came to be a recovering nail biter:

You all know I lived in Seattle. You all know I loved it. But, what some of you might not know, is that for the last 6 months I was there I struggled with a lot of anxiety and depression. Mostly, I knew I needed to finish schooling, but moving back to Utah was just not something I wanted to do. It was a big sacrifice, and I wasn't sure I wanted to make it. (Side note, now that I am back in Utah, I am so so grateful it was a decision I made. I do not regret it in the slightest. I love my family and all my fab friends.)

During this stressful point in my life, I bit my nails more than ever. I had always bit my nails. Even in high school it was such an issue my amazing Emily told me she would pay me $30 to quit biting my nails. And I did it! I quit biting them! But, if I remember correctly, I only lasted a week and a half before I started biting them again, and had to pay Emily her money back. Biting my nails meant they would often bleed, and would constantly be hurting me. Despite the annoyance and pain, it was never a habit I could break. My fingers looked terrible! I tried it all, and I simply could never quit.

One fine day, I was working at my favorite shoe shop. I was helping customers, minding my own business, trying to deal with my anxiety, and figure out my life. A woman came in and asked me about finding wider, comfortable shoes, but without sacrificing the appearance of the shoes. She wanted to have her cake and eat it too. Well, lucky for her, that's possible at Market Street Shoes (located on Market Street in the heart of Ballard, Washington).

While I walked around and talked to her about different shoes that might work for her type of feet, she stopped me and said -- something to the effect of --, "Look at you! You could be my daughter for goodness sakes! You have a scottish complexion about you. And those wonderful cheeks. You look exactly like my amazing children. I just can't get over it! You are quite a beautiful young lady." I thanked her, and felt quite proud of this great compliment from a complete stranger. But I felt a connection to this woman, I felt comforted by her presence.

She was just out on a walk, and had decided to stop by, so she asked if I would write down the names of the shoes I had pointed out, so she could come back later and try them on when she was in nicer clothes, and smelled a little better. I went over to the counter and pulled out our card. I was writing down the names of shoes when she grabbed my hands and said, "You poor dear! Look at your sad hands! Doesn't that hurt you?" "Yes," I replied, feebly. She held my hand in hers and looked into my eyes and said, "I bet you are going through some really hard times right now, but trust me, it's going to get better." I was seriously so close to coming out and sobbing right there on the sales floor that I couldn't even open my mouth to say anything in return. She just kept my hand in hers and asked if I had tried all these different techniques to break the habit. I nodded at each of her suggestions, indicating that I had already tried, but to no avail.

She set my hand down on the counter and told me that one day I would fall in love with a beautiful man - or woman - she interjected (you never know in Seattle), but I assured her it would be a man. Oh good, she said. "One day a man will love you more than you could ever imagine, and he will put a ring on your finger so you know you are his forever, and he is yours. You will want to show your ring to the world! Show them how beautiful your love is! But you cannot do that with your hands looking like this. It will show the world of your trials, not your love." With that she grabbed both of my hands and said to me, "What day is tomorrow?" Umm.... "Wednesday?" I said, still trying to fight back the tears, and the overwhelming urge I had to just hug this woman. "NO! Tomorrow will be the first day you no longer bite your nails. And the day after will be the second day you no longer bite your nails. And never again will you bite your nails." She put my hands down on the counter and hovered her hands over them. She wiggled her fingers and made some sort of spell casting noises -- something along the lines of "bibbity bobbity boo," just something a little more original. And she said, "There. You are cured. You will not bite your nails any longer." I said thank you, and stood a little perplexed, staring at her. She took the business card, said she would return to purchase shoes some day soon. She told me to remember that the good times were coming, and that I would find love. And she walked out of the store.

I never saw that woman again. I learned she came in and bought one or two pairs of shoes about a week later from my boss, Lanne. But I never laid eyes on her again. You know what else I never did again? Yup, you guessed it. I have not bit my nails a day since that woman gave me the courage to break the habit. I am no longer a nail biter. The urge is still there from time to time, but I just think of the support that woman gave me, and faith she had in my future, and I resist.

This is the moral of my overly detailed, and quite long story, you never know when some small act to you is going to completely change someone else's life. You never know when someone's car is dead in the Smith's parking lot, so they would love a box of strawberries to brighten their day. You never know when someone is making a really hard decision, and feeling quite alone, so they just need someone to remind them they are beautiful and going to find love. You never know what someone else is going through! So, do the small stuff. Think of the people around you. Don't be afraid to reach out. It all matters. Every little thing you can do for someone counts a lot more than you think. That woman changed my ENTIRE life. She probably has long since forgotten me. But, I will never forget the good she did for me. And that is the gospel truth.