Our family

Our family

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

From Within

Youre going to think Im crazy for getting over it so quick... but really... Im feeling much better. Let me explain...

On Sunday I fasted that the path would be made clear for me. At least for the decisions I have to make in the immediate future (one month or so)

That very night was the phonecall which very clearly showed the path about something I was very conflicted about... My feelings for a friend (the previous post). By the next evening I had received the warm assurance of the spirit that the Lord had planned this, and heck, all I want is to do His will, so Im okay.

And that wasn't the only thing that has become clear since my fast. Schooling seems to have become clear, legal matters, financial matters. And I know there will be more.

So, my friends, I am happy again, for happiness comes from within. Reading the scriptures every morning has brought me more peace and happiness than I could have imagined, and I am so deeply greatful for the book of mormon. (www.mormon.org)

Sunday, March 27, 2011

If I Could Marry a Poem, this would be it

If only I was single ;)
Jen Lemen's poem and I... we have a connection... some serious chemistry... and every person on earth, single mom, lonely dad.... needs to read it!

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

On Burdens Being Made Light

In Mosiah 24 there is a great story on this subject:

           King Laman was being a task master over the people of Alma. "And it came to pass that so great were their afflictions that they began to cry mightily to God." Until, that is, gaurds were placed about them to ensure they did not pray. 

           So instead they:
"did pour out their ahearts to him; and he did know the bthoughts of their hearts. And it acame to pass that the voice of the Lord came to them in their afflictions, saying: Lift up your heads and be of good comfort, for I know of the covenant which ye have made unto me; and I will covenant with my people and deliver them out of bondage.And I will also ease the aburdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs"
        And the reason for this ease of burden? Yes, there is a purpose more so than giving them a break... "this will I do that ye may stand as bwitnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their cafflictions." 

      Now, application in my life. I prayed *really* hard on Sunday. I had a heart to heart with the Lord, and told him of *all* my many afflictions, and asked for a miracle. The miracle was not a tremendous thing, D did not cease to ruin my life, my divorce did not magically come, my school work did not magically go away, and in fact Baby Nod got sick. However, I feel the ease of burden that the Lord promised Alma's people.
 "And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did astrengthen them that they could bear up their bburdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with cpatience to all the will of the Lord."
So, my next step? Submitting cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord. Easier said than done, but I do believe I can do so. Happiness comes from within, and as I do the will of the Lord, peace will come even amidst the chaos. and then, maaaaybe, one day...
"And it came to pass that so great was their faith and their patience that the voice of the Lord came unto them again, saying: Be of good comfort, for on the morrow I will deliver you out of bondage.
          Until then, I will stand as a witness that I know of a surety that the Lord God, does visit His people in their afflictions. 

        Another good scripture on the subject is found in Mosiah 18 when Alma begins baptising people in the waters of mormon. Those who are baptised are desirous to 
"come into the bfold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light, Yea, and are awilling to mourn with those that bmourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as cwitnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death,"
          So perhaps that is partially how God helped ease Alma's people's burdens. They helped out one another. That is partially how I find solitude. Sometimes from my Mom washing my dishes, or a sister in the ward helping me unpack, or the phone calls and emails of really awesome friends.

       Another two neat references I found that I'll leave for you to look up so this blog post isnt too long... Alma 33:23, Matthew 11:30.

:D Enjoy, and may your burdens be lightened as well.

Monday, March 21, 2011

On Freedom, or the Lack Therof

My daughters father refused to sign the legal papers Friday. I have been working on these specific papers since September. He may as well have thrown them in the mud, thrown me in the mud. I told him he could "Go the **** home" and then I took Baby Nod home and tried to be hopeful. One day I will no longer be his hostage, one day my child will be safe from him, one daythe hurt and the pain will be no more than bruises and scars. I got a preisthood blessing that reminded me to align my will with the Lords, and to feel in my heart what my head already knows. I know we will be safe, but I do not feel safe. I kow this will end, but I do not feel it will end. 13 months is a long time to wait to... well... to be free of him. I may never be totally free of him, but on Friday I felt taht I would rather die than be (I cringe to say the word) married to him for one more day. Evetually that dramatic feeling subsided, and life resumed in all of its chaotic normalcy. Yes, for those few who do not know, I am indeed still married. I pretend I am not, in some circles, because I really hate the fact. Married. A word I gloried in only years ago is bringing me the greates misery now. Let this be a warning to all of you young people, choose right the first time. Do not marry someone whose family is broken, likely they will turn out to be so also. By broken I do not mean from a split home, I mean, broken. They can have both their parents and still be broken. The man who holds my freedom by the chains of a ring in the bottom of his drawer, that man is broken. Two whole people come together and make a good marriage, two broken people come together and make misery. And that dear readers (or reader, as it may be for a while), is the end of this short post. There is too much weighing on my soul, I cannot share it all, and I need to return to my place IRL. :D

Thursday, March 17, 2011

A poem you shouldnt read, or at least read into. I was experimenting with rythym :P

Double Dutch

Your whispers wake me
Your green light plays me
A jump rope,
Two thumps of cord on pavement
For one touch of my feet
Skip a beat, skip a beat, skip a beat, skip

Another rope holds me
And holds you away from me
A knot, or a circle
Mine hid in a drawer
Yours a crown

So double me up, playing Dutch
or German or French
One rope I see solace
One rope I see burden
One two, up, one two, down, one two three four

The ropes mix their messages
Mix and I dodge, I twist
to the right or the left
Courier, Times New Roman
Bold, italics underlined.
And my crossed t’s wave to
Your dotted i’s

The Arial calms me
and scares me, and calls to me.
Reminders of what could have been
how much I gave,

Oh the rope you could tie me in
And I, freely, would have been
Tied, knotted

Instead I jump
We jump
Careful of ropes,
This dangerous trapeze, or web, or snare
But you are Caution
And I am Care

I just land on my feet,
Then take off for the jump
Land, air, ground, sky
Your turn, mine, yours, mine

Words lighting faces
Asterisks of expression
I can tell you are happy
And I will be
I jump, then I wait,
one two three.

And that is probably enough repetition

My first few posts on this sight were my favorites from my personal blog, but from now on I'll be coming up with new posts.

The Three Little Pigs and The Big Bad Wolf

Once upon a time there were three little pigs and the time came for them to leave home and seek their fortunes.The first little pig built his house out of straw because it was the easiest thing to do. He was finished very quickly, and skipped along to his brothers place to see if they could dance and play together. The second little pig had been builing his house out of sticks, so he quickly finished up and ran off with his younger brother. They came upon their older sister Piglette, and she was busy slabbing mortar, and putting toegethr a house of bricks. Her two brothers laughed at her, and invited her out to play. Her parents had warned her that there was a big bad wolf on the loose, and she knew she couldnt take chances, so she continued to lay the brick.
One night the big bad wolf, who dearly loved to eat fat little piggies, came along and saw the first little pig in his house of straw. He said "Let me in, Let me in, little pig or I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in!"

"Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin", said the little pig.

But the wolf is strong, and of course he blew the house in and ate the first little pig.

The wolf then came to the house of sticks saying "Let me in ,Let me in little pig or I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in" 

"Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin", said the little pig. But the wolf blew that house in too, and ate the second little pig. 

The wolf then came to the house of bricks.
" Let me in , let me in" cried the wolf
"Or I'll huff and I'll puff till I blow your house in"
"Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin" said little Piglette.
Well, the wolf huffed and puffed but he could not blow down that brick house.

But the wolf was a sly old wolf, so he covered himself in pig skin and kocked again. Somehow he was able to deceive Piglette, and slowly became her friend. Eventually Piglette let him in. Their friendship blossomed into romance and they were married.

Piglette slowly began to realise that something was wrong, and eventually knew that she was going to have to leave her home. She packed her bags and took her family and ran away as fast as her fat squishy legs would take her. She went back to stay with Mama and Papa pig, living with them while beginning construction on her second house of brick. She bought the strongest brick, and she began to put the pieces of her  new home together. 

Shortly after moving in to her humble abode, the wolf came a knocking again. When she refused to let him in he climbed up on the roof to look for a way into the brick house.

Piglette saw the wolf climb up on the roof and lit a roaring fire in the fireplace and placed on it a large kettle of water.When the wolf finally found the hole in the chimney he crawled down and KERSPLASH right into that kettle of water. However, this was not the end of her troubles with the big bad wolf. 

You see, there is a story behind the story.

 That Wolf is Satan, and Satan does not just dissapear because of a few obstacles. He will never stop his attack against the sons and daughters of God. 
When we build our houses, we begin by breaking the ground, turning the soil. Taking our broken and humble hearts to the Lord. Then, brick by brick, with slabs of mortar we build our fortress. I build MY fortress. But the wolf is sneaky, and I cannot rely on my actions alone, but on the voice of the spirit, to tell me when the wolf is sneaking over the roof so I can leave a pot of boiling water over the fire, or to tell me when the pig at the door is really the wolf in disguise.

And when the wolf came knocking at the brother pigs' houses, all they did was yell at him to go away, They said that THEY would not let him in. Well they dont need to, he is strongand cunning enough to find a way in himself. They inadvertantly allowed this to happen easier by building a weak house. Establishing their testimonies perhaps based on a few principals of the gospel. Perhaps their faith was built on the reality of Chiasmus in the book of mormon, or the tingly feeling they had during a prayer, or watching one person be healed. They, like Laman and Lemuel, believed for a moment. But when the questions came, they could not stand strong. When the the rains came down and the floods came up, their house was built on sand alone.                                                 

What are the bricks? They are the small things. Testimonies are not built by grandiose miracles, seeing angels and watching water turn to wine. We know that Laman and Lemuel were not converted by the huge miracles they witnessed. A real fortress of testimony comes by living the small things. Reading your scriptures, saying your prayers, getting answers, it is a slow upward climb. Small bricks of light, placed monotonosly on top of the other to create a shining citadel of Light. Our testimonies are also not usually torn down in a huge way, but by forgetting those important things. Using sticks and stra instead of bricks, reading every now and then, only going to church but not really listening.  D did not leave the church because he read something some day that proved it was wrong. He left slowly. He stopped reading his scriptures because he felt guilty, he stopped praying because he didnt know what to say. He stopped going to church because it became boring to him. Each of these things happened months before the other. He eventually began wishing the church was not true so that he could feel better about himself. In fact he said that, directly. It is odd now to hear his side of the story, his new story. He claims he has found truth, and says it is his duty to share. Only it was three years ago last November that he was crying over his brother leaving the church and wishing he had the ability to share his light and testimony. He wanted to be Nephi, but he did not pick up the sword.

We each get to decide each day what we will do with our lives and our testimonies. My friend Asha has had concerns about her faith, but she prays and studies and searches in good places, and she will find the Light. In fact, she already has. Just this week I had a moment where I doubted, and she was there to bear me her testimony and lift me up. She said part of faith is being okay knowing that we cannot ever really know. We have this false sense feeling we have to completley KNOW everything, but that is not faith. Even Bob Wight, a former member of the seventy, told me that having questions is good and healthy, and we must search out the answers. I had never been told this before (that I can remember), and the first time I doubted I was serisouly afraid. Terrified. But I cannot really have faith, unless I have doubted. There cannot be light if there is no darkness, there would not be joy if there was no pain. I have seen the dark, and I know where the Light is. I have felt the aching pains, and I get to experience the tremendous joy.

And I am building my shining Citadel, brick of light, by brick of light. Hey, Im not perfect. I make mistakes, but the testimony is there, and it is becoming a fortress of Christ.

A poem about secrets that suck, written in January

This Heart

This heart has been bruised
Pounded by the hammer of Death
Pa told me my Gramma was gone
Hiding under my bed
Not far enough
From bruises,
Purple and green and blue
The simple heart of a child

This heart has been cut
Sliced and stabbed by the knife of Rejection
Returned by the receiver of my naive affection
Hiding under Blankets
Not far enough
From cuts
Long and deep and bloody
The foolish heart of my youth

This heart has been stretched
Racked by the pangs of Loneliness
Family ties forced apart by infidelity
Hiding in a dark room
Not far enough
From the strain
Torturing, and agonizing
The fragile heart of a new mother

This heart has been broken
Torn to bits by the weight of a Secret
Why would the Guilty so burden the Fragile?
Hiding in plain sight
Nowhere is far enough
From the blow of the shrapnel
Shreding, tearing, ripping
Fragments of a heart that would give up

A poem on loss, written in Feb

Rapunzels tower...

these nights are long and lonely
as I turn about in bed
fairy-tales and non fiction
tumble about my head

they, swirling with the dust
Sandman poured inside my eyes,
confuse the lands of dream and wake
and terrorize my mind

Have you walked between the lands
of the dreaming and the wake
let me share a story
of the ways a heart can break

For my father was my uncle
and my uncle was my friend
and my friend built me a tower
and he stood gaurd to defend

with his sword of truth and power
shield of faith and feet of peace
and my hair grew like rapunzel
and he faught against the prince

but on braids of golden lies
a princely pig ascended up
and we made ourselves a castle
though the man below warned stop

and then life went a changing
for none can command it stay
and the princes teeth were sharpened
until his wolfish fangs gave way

buthe the man weapons had broken
and his feet crumbled to dust
and he saw the wolf attacking
and confused, he did not run

but tore apart the tower
brick by brick and stone by stone
and turned against the princess
and cut her hair that shone

her heart, broken by two that day
her heart it seared and burned
but she picked herself back up again
picked herself back up and learned

that the rock to build a towr apon,
the son of god, is christ
no man nor prince could save her
from the winds of toil and strife

and the tower that would protect her
is the one she works to build
and the weapons she can rely on
are the ones she herself wields

A poem on divorce, written last fall

Faulty Analogy

Last February I broke my arm
A good crisp break,
So sudden and unexpected.

But then who expects their arm to break?
Did I think people just schedule these things?
February 6, 2010. 5:30 pm:
Going to break my arm on the way to Ami's baby shower: check.


So I went to my mother-in-law,
Who was no help, as usual.
Offering plenty of alternatives, natural healing,
A bunch of crock.

So I told my sister,
Who told my mother,
Who told my father,
Who told me to go to the Doctor
And we all went to the Doctor.
The Doctor put a cast on
And told me to go home,

A long drive home,
Dark car, with a screaming child
So hazy now, the memories I repress.

Every day there was hurt and the cast did not heal.
The Doctor had known it wouldn't,
But I had to see the proof before I would believe.
I had to see with my own eyes that a cast was not enough
The break was bad.
An infection had been festering.
The arm must be removed.
Maybe I had known all along, and maybe I didn't.
I'll never say.

And we slowly began the process.
All the while I pretended it wasn't going to happen
I begged the Doctor for alternatives
But I knew those alternatives were crock

And He did His best to heal me,
He told me there would be a new arm, a better arm
It's the 21st century, anything can happen

And at first I believed.
He had a logical explanation, after all

So maybe I never believed.
Maybe it just made sense. 
And now as I try to type without my arm,
It doesn't seem very sensible.

Where is my new arm?

Oh a healing period? Oh a waiting period?
Yes I knew about that.
No I don't want to wait anymore.
No I don't want to heal the long, difficult, efficient way.
I just want a better arm.
Don't I deserve a better arm?
Isn't He The Doctor? Cant He do anything?

So I made a mistake,
And here comes the flaw in my analogy
My story has no place for you.
Not yet really.

But I stole your arms anyways.
I began to lean on you.
I used your arms to screw in light bulbs,
To take out the trash, to move the couch, to hold the baby.
I used them for warmth, for healing.

My new arms.
Not deserved. Just stolen.
Maybe one day, but not today.

And when you are here I barley notice my arm is missing.
And tonight you are not,
And the pain returns
Only worse.
The wait seems so much longer
The weight seems so much heavier,
The hurt deepens, blackens.

"Make a mistake with me"
I whispered.
Quoting someone else
"Some mistakes..."
You know how that one ends.
Is it raining at your house
Like its raining at mine?

Where are you tonight?
Resting your weary arms.
For you don't know it,
But like Atlas you carry the weight of the world.
The weight of my world at least.
And I just allow you to carry me.

That isn't love my dear.
I'm using you.
Do I care enough to let you go,
For if you love me you shall return,
Do I trust the Doctor to give me the best arm?

And Tonight.
Tonight I cry.
I weep so hard the baby becomes confused.
So I put her to bed and weep alone.
Silently heaving in a ball of confusion.
Because tonight, without your arms, I realised

That I'm not being fair to you, that I'm not trusting Him.

This faulty analogy is our lullaby
Without melody, without rhyme
Waiting on this injured woman
To sing a tune of goodbye.