Golden fingerprints

by shirley woodruff lewis

It was Thursday night when my phone rang.  It was a member of our Stake Presidency.  He told me that Sunday's keynote speaker had just had an emergency appendectomy.  Therefore, I was being asked to give the keynote address to a multi-stake Primary conference meeting, where at least four hundred people were expected to attend.  I could choose my topic because I would have less than three days to prepare my remarks.

After hanging up the phone, I began feeling extremely panicky about having accepted this assignment.  What I should speak about?  Immediately,  I called my Aunt Ruthie to get her input.  We decided to take my theme from St. Matthew 6:19-21, "—-For where your treasure is, there will be your heart also."

For handouts, I could have huge, red hearts, with a saying, spray-painted with gold paint on each one of them, "To Give Is to Live".  These hearts could be pinned on each person as they arrived at the door.

Aunt Ruthie said that she had enough old, gold jewelry so that she could make up four hundred small treasure chests and put some of this jewelry and fake gold money into each one of the chests.  Then I could talk about earthly treasures and heavenly treasures. I could speak about how we should set our hearts upon the Lord and upon His treasures, the children who were entrusted into our care as Primary officers and teachers.  Aunt Ruthie said that she would be over to my house early on Saturday morning, the day before my presentation, with the cut out hearts and the four hundred treasure chests ready to be spray painted gold.  She said that she would also bring all the jewelry and fake money so that we could put them into the golden treasure chests.   Then I sat down and wrote out my talk.

All day Friday, at work, I was eagerly looking forward to spray painting with Aunt Ruthie on Saturday; but when Saturday dawned, I awoke with a terrible headache and a fever of 102 °.   I had come down with a horrendous case of the flu.  I went to the telephone to call Aunt Ruthie to tell her not to come.

I was in the middle of dialing her number when the doorbell rang.  I went to the door.  There, framed in the archway, stood a happy, smiling Aunt Ruthie.  Behind her on the porch, were numerous sacks loaded with all sorts of jewels, treasure chests, and other visual aids.  She was ready to go to work.

I fell into her outstretched arms sobbing, "Oh Aunt Ruthie, I'm so sick. I have the flu. How am I going to speak tomorrow when I'm so sick and can hardly talk? "

How was I going to speak tomorrow?

Aunt Ruthie comforted me as she tenderly helped me back to bed.  "Don't worry Shirley. I can do the gold spray painting by myself.  I will get all of your visual aids ready for tomorrow.  Your big job right now is to stay in bed and get better."

I was so disappointed that I was not going to be able to visit with my favorite Aunt. However, I knew that she was right.  I was going to need all the rest I could get, in order to make it to the Sunday school meeting tomorrow.

Within a few minutes of going back to bed, I fell into a feverish sleep.  I was in and out of conscious awareness all day.   Occasionally I would awaken enough to hear Aunt Ruthie out on the porch hammering and spray painting. It seemed to go on forever.

Then it was dark.  Night had come. The next thing I became aware of, was Aunt Ruthie at my bedside pulling the covers over me while saying, "Shirley, the message on the hearts and the treasure chests are all spray painted.  The treasure chests are all filled with jewels and ready to go.  I fixed you some chicken soup for dinner.  It's in the refrigerator.  All you have to do is heat it up.  I have to go home now and get dinner for Uncle Bill.  Good luck with your talk tomorrow."

I heard the door open and close.  Aunt Ruthie was gone.  I fell back into a deep sleep that lasted through the night.

I awoke to the warm light of Sunday morning's sun.  It was shining through the curtains on the window.  As I lay in bed, I noticed that there were glittering, golden specks of something on my blankets.  They looked so pretty as they glistened in the sunlight.  I glanced at the clock.  It was 9:00 A.M. and time to get up.

I went into the bathroom. There were these same sparkling golden specks all over the mirror, the sink, the tub, the floor, and the toilet.  I was bewildered.  Where had these beautiful, dazzling, firefly sparks of light come from?

I went into the kitchen.  I was amazed to find those same shiny specks of gold all over my dishes, my silverware, my pots and pans.  They were in my sink, on my counter top, and even on my dishtowels. What was going on?

Then a flood of realization hit me.  These were Aunt Ruthie's fingerprints.  Her golden fingerprints were on my blankets where she had pulled the covers over me.  They were in my bathroom where she had scrubbed it.  They were in the kitchen where she had cooked and washed my dishes.  They were on my broom and dustpan showing that she had swept the floor.  They were on my vacuum cleaner handle indicating that she had vacuumed the rug.

Numb with amazement, I continued following the trail of Aunt Ruthie's golden fingerprints throughout my apartment. They were on my furniture where she had dusted.  They were on the windows where she had cleaned them.  They were sparkling from everywhere. Truly, Aunt Ruthie's worn and wrinkled hands, covered with gold paint from spraying the hearts and treasure chests, had left behind hundreds of glittering fingerprints throughout the house.  I stood there transfixed, marveling at this holy, sparkling, visible, golden trail of her unselfish service.  Oh, the love that radiated from her fingerprints!

I would have never known what Aunt Ruthie had done for me, except that her glowing, golden fingerprints were there to testify of it.  I fell to my knees in tears.  I was overcome by the love Aunt Ruthie had shown for me.

After my crying had stopped, I thanked God that I had been allowed to see love from a different perspective.  I told Him how I could better understand His vantage point, as He views us; together with our dazzling, sparkling, trails of golden fingerprints, as we journey here below in our daily lives, doing service for others.

As I prayed, I came to the understanding that golden fingerprints need not be physical.  They could be spiritual, educational, and/or mental as well.  I was given to understand how inspired teachers can leave behind golden fingerprints, indelibly imprinted upon the minds and hearts of their pupils, which would have a lasting influence upon those students' lives for good.

As I ascended to the pulpit that Sunday afternoon, I put aside the talk that I had prepared.  Instead, I told those Primary officers and teachers about Aunt Ruthie and the golden fingerprints.