Forty-Eight Part Two

Are you still with me? I shared the first half of this post yesterday. Because I recently celebrated another birthday, here are more things that I'm thankful for at this moment (one for every year of my life):

25. The miracle of forgiveness. Forgetting isn't part of the equation. Releasing bitterness is.

26. A steaming bowl of soup for dinner on still-chilly evenings.

27. The process of baking bread, which synchronizes all of my senses.

28. Poetry. A short time ago, I nabbed a thick volume by Leslie Norris (another thrift store find). His work is a "concentration and distillation" of everyday experience. Thanks to the internet I'm discovering some more current poets as well.

29. Segullah literary journal. I love the honest-yet-faithful writings by L.D.S. women. One of my poems will appear in an issue which is coming out soon.

29. Facebook. Laugh in my face or strike me with lightning but I'm thankful for this connection with friends, relatives, and adult children who live far from home.

30. A new journal. It was a thoughtful birthday gift from a new friend; I see it as a reminder that I still have something to say.

31. Old notebooks. I used to carry them with me everywhere because I couldn't wait to write, Now they're a concrete reminder that I can feel that way again.

32. Blogs. I'm fairly new to this world but it's opened up some possibilities to share and read others' thoughts.

33. A comfortable home. That's the thing about middle age. I'm learning to be more content.

34. Sibling harmony. It's what I most enjoy when my brothers and sisters get together and what I hope for with my children. My in-laws treat me like family too.

35. Secure employment. We've been less-affected by economic woes; living modestly is nothing new.

36. Caring teachers. I'm overwhelmed by the impact of dedicated coaches, church leaders, and educators in my children's lives. I still remember teachers who mentored and encouraged me.

37. Books. This differs from #15 because I'm talking about the volumes I've collected over the years. They're faithful friends.

38. Music. Technology allows us to enjoy music with the click of a button although my waistline would be slimmer if I had to walk long distances to a live concert (a la Bach).

39. Memories of a few trips we've taken. I loved the Oregon coast, live oaks in Louisiana, and sampling Texas barbecue.

40. A caring community. We have different views but there is always an outpouring of love when someone experiences tragedy or an urgent need.

41. Unfinished projects. Admittedly, boxes of fabric and decor fill my closet and clutter our room. It's been months since I sent anything to publishers as well. But the potential to improve my life, our home, and my wardrobe is there. I have plenty reasons to get up each day.

42. Scriptures. Reading daily is hard right now but I remember times when I've been filled with peace and insight. I'll keep trying and trust that I'll regain that feeling again.

43. The chartreuse green of new leaves. Right now the willows add a blaze of color to our stark desert landscape.

44. Joseph Smith. He was human and never claimed to be perfect. But he was also a courageous witness of Christ. I'm grateful that he restored the church that is my spiritual anchor here on earth.

45. Visual art. We recently enjoyed a free exhibit at a nearby college. There's nothing like seeing skillfully-rendered paintings or sculptures up close. It's food for the soul.

47. Prayer. Like scripture study, this habit has sometimes been hard for me to maintain. Remembering times when I've felt close to God helps me feel like He's still there.

48. My Savior, Jesus Christ. I love the Easter season and can't deny the power of His atonement. He lived and died for us individually. I hope my life this coming year will more clearly reflect this truth.

Thanks for enduring to the end of this post!

Likening the Miracle

I read "Likening the Miracle" at the annual LDS church cultural arts presentation. This rare opportunity to mingle with other poets, composers and musicians left me feeling energized and motivated to keep writing. Best of all, I felt connected to them with a common purpose: to create something that is "lovely, praiseworthy and of good report".

This poem resulted from some personal struggles. One particularly difficult Sunday, I listened to an inspired Gospel Doctrine teacher discuss the story of the woman who exercised faith to be healed by touching Christ's garment. The teacher shared several historical details: how the woman might have been shunned because her illness made her "unclean", how she had most likely never married or even felt the comfort of human touch for twelve years. After living so long with shame, the woman could have been reluctant to ask the Savior to bless her with the laying on of hands. But she found enough faith to reach out and touch the fringe of his garment.

I'd heard the story countless times but was stunned by how it became a metaphor for what I was experiencing. After being unable to write poetry, I was happy to feel motivated again and a theme about the atonement gradually emerged.

Most people experience a kind of Gethsemane at least once in their lives. I hope those who read this poem come away with a reverence for the reality of the atonement--how our Savior's willingness to endure excruciating spiritual pain enabled Him to understand and heal our "unseen wounds".


Likening the Miracle

"For she said within herself,
if I may but touch his garment,
I shall be whole." Matthew 9:21

I never hovered
outside village crowds--
unclean in my bleeding,
banned from even a dream
of touch
or embrace.

My hand never drew healing
through rough-woven folds
that clothed the Messiah
as carpenter's son.

Yet my living is spent
in search
of prescription;
wearing the dust
of windburned journey,
I finally kneel
then reach
for a reddened robe.

And He who bore
Gethsemane's unseen wounds
will yet pronounce me
whole.