Tim...er, Elder Knight left for his mission early this morning.
He gave an awesome talk in sacrament meeting yesterday.
Beverly said he sounded more like a returned missionary. I thought so, too, but...he's my son, so...
Tim's...er, Elder Knight's not much of a talker--at least to me. I feel like I'm always interrupting his silence by asking him questions, only to be told, "I don't know," usually. It was such a pleasure to hear about his deep inner feelings and see some emotion--good emotion--come to the surface yesterday. I will treasure that little piece of time. Perhaps when he returns from his mission he will be more willing to share, but it's doubtful. His older sister, most like him, is not forthcoming with tales of her life--unless it's on Facebook or her blog. Thus, I lurk.
I will be so happy to receive e-mails every week--EVERY WEEK!!!--from Elder Knight. He HAS to write to me. mmmuuuaaahhhhahhh... Perhaps he will then share his inner feelings again. A glimpse is all I ask. just a glimpse...just a glimpse...such a gift...
Monday, June 14, 2010
Leaving a Place . . .
Are there lightning bugs in Utah
Or sweet smelling honeysuckle vine?
Do daisies show their white happy faces?
Are there any traces of what, to me, is sublime?
Even though I love my white hydrangea tree
I hope I won’t see it bloom this year.
As I look around I am thankful for this house and gardens
But have to admit, I was never really happy here.
“This house is a gift,” I heard a voice say as plain as day.
I was admiring the newly planted strawberries ages ago.
This house is turning out to be a gift, though not what I imagined.
Dear Lord, please let it be a gift in the end, so I can go.
Children’s laughter and gaiety are the things I cherish most.
Sledding down the bank over the child-made bumps in the snow.
Running from hot tub to cold white and back to the warmth
Like affection,
Those memories will always be close.
Perhaps it’s best I am going to a place that is far removed
From everything I’ve loved (and loathed).
Utah is brown. Here it is green. Utah is dry. Here it is wet (with perspiration)
But who’s to say I can’t make it into something that’s loved (or filled with inspiration?)
I always say, “Leave a place better than you found it.”
I hope to do that. My heart and soul long for a ‘better place.’
Please, dear Lord, carry me to a home of repose
And let laughter and gaiety once more find a space
In my life...
Where friends and family are welcomed
And walls and rugs worn with use
Help me to be up to it, Lord.
With Thee, I know I can do it...happily...
no excuse.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)