Who is this Woman?

   Bishop Nealy handed me a packet of papers in a clear plastic folder. It contained notes written to me by people in the Church during a recent meeting. I thanked him and took the packet.
   The next morning I got up early and took the packet into the kitchen. There, with a warm cup of tea beside me, I read each of the notes.
  Tears ran down my face as I read them. Not because they were mean-spirited, in fact it was the complete opposite. I was described as "amazing", "a beautiful spirit","a great example" and "a forgiving, loving person". Many of the notes expressed gratitude for being a friend, for being supportive and for being virtuous.
   I looked over the papers again after I had read them. It wasn't some bizarre practical joke. The notes were all in different handwriting and signed. I recognized all of the names and knew all of them were at the meeting. I know each person that wrote a note. I know some of them well. I was very certain that none of them would have written anything that they did not honestly feel or believe. None of them are given to idle flattery.
  I had only one question. Who is this woman that they are talking about? At face value, the answer is obvious and maybe a little silly.  The notes were addressed to me and were given to me. I was the woman that the note writers were writing about.
   The question still remained though. Who is this woman? Whoever she is, she is not the one I see in the mirror every morning. The person I see isn't special in any way. I have never thought of myself as special. If anything I always thought of myself as atypical, miswired and just plain odd.
   Some of the notes mentioned things I had done. Charlie and I had shared places that we love with some of them. I'd done things or said things that made someone feel better. I taught a lesson in Relief Society that uplifted someone. I helped someone and inspired someone. I remembered most of the instances in the notes. I never thought of them as remarkable. It's just what I do. Charlie and I enjoy many places around the Twin Cities. We enjoy it even more when we share these experiences with our friends. Doesn't everyone do this?
  Who is this amazing, loving, forgiving person with a beautiful spirit who serves as a great example?
   Is it me? I find it hard to believe. I have days where I want to wring someone's neck or shake them until their eyes roll. There are times when I want to shut the door and just be left alone for a few hours or a few days. There are times when I want to tail someone or give them the finger. There are times when I'd like to tell someone to get off their butt, take some responsibility and stop whining.
  I don't believe that this woman the notes talk about would even think about things like that.
  It's almost like I'm two different people. I know that isn't true though. I pride myself on being me no matter where I am. I'm a little disdainful of people who seem to put on a different personality depending on where they are.
  The thought bothered me. How can these people see me as one person, while I see someone that is so vastly different? Why can't I just accept their praise and compliments  and keep up the good work? Why is this bothering me?
   I think it is because I worry that I won't live up to the expectation of others. I may have a "human moment" and people will feel let down and hurt. I don't like hurting others. Maybe I'm afraid the praise will go to my head. If I believe all these nice things then there will come a day when they are no longer true. Perhaps after years of being thought of as different, not normal, strange and weird, it is difficult to think that maybe my differences are positive traits.
  It could also be that I take my own actions for granted. I have always felt that my mission in life was to make wherever I am a little better. I just assume that everyone else does this so it is no big deal. Obviously though, it is a big deal. The actions that I take for granted sometimes have effects that are larger than I know.
   The notes make a little more sense to me now. These people don't see me as some angelic creature who goes about blessing lives. They know I am human. They are just letting me know that I am doing good. I just need to keep up the good work.
   I put the papers back in the plastic folder. I put it in a safe spot. I know just what I'm going to do with them. When I feel down or feel like I'm spinning my wheels, I'm going to read one or two of those notes. I know I'll feel better and ready to get back out there again.