It’s sunny for my birthday. I prayed that it would be. I like it when He gives me what I want. ‘Specially sunshine.
Today I feel …
Calm
Settled
Happy
Grateful
I really love my 30s. Despite, or rather in spite of, everything crazy and hard about the way this decade has ushered in … I do, really love my 30s.
When the alarm went off at 4:30 this morning, I was wide awake and out of bed within seconds. What is going on? I thought. This is not normal.
I quickly dressed, slid my feet into my black patent pumps, and off to the temple Frit and I went.
What a perfect way to start my birthday eve.
After the temple we went out for breakfast. And as soon as we pulled up, I knew it was my kind of place. Artsy. Quaint. Different. And the food–like the light of heaven upon my tongue.
Hot Chocolate
Norwegian waffles seasoned with cardamom and a side of wild Lingonberries
Eggs Benedict with Hollandaise I wanted to lap
And a peach pastry, which I ate before snapping a picture.
After fully gluttonizing, I went for a walk. A nice 45 minute walk. And then spent the afternoon with my nose in a book. A book as delicious as the cardamom and Lingonberries with which I started the day.
Which brought me to this evening … sushi with my sister and Frit, presents (!), a movie, and a cupcake with a candle.
And now I lay in bed, counting the minutes to 33.
We have had the weirdest winter–super windy (and I mean super…I’ve had to chase the trash cans multiple times) and hardly any snow.
I have a love-hate relationship with snow. I love to watch it fall, but I hate driving in it. I like it for a day, and then the next day I want it to be summer. It’s so beautiful, but it’s so cold. And I hate [insert italicized, bolded, 78 pt font], I mean hate, being cold. I think I must get colder than other people. It makes my bones shake and hurt.
But worse than being cold in the snow is being cold with no snow. At least the snow is something pretty to look at while you’re freezing your tuckus off. (How I WISH you could actually freeze your tuckus off. That would save a lot of my problems.)
But we got a snow storm yesterday—two actually! It wasn’t a lot of snow–we didn’t even have to shovel our driveway–and the sun’s out today so it’ll be melted by this evening probably. But it sure was beautiful. For a minute.
Night after night
till the hours of morn,
As the sky fell from
blue to black to purple,
I saw her walk
along the road,
talking only to the air.
With a twirling toe
and a flourish of arms,
she floated and bobbed,
Graceful and long,
like a ship upon the horizon.
with shiny black hair
that fell to her waist
and a gown that fell to the floor,
I never ventured
to asked her name
or why she walked
in fact.
I only watched
from my curious perch
As she sailed along–
Like the stars above–
Talking only to the air.
_______
*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.
It had been a while
Since she’d seen the sun
The clouds of winter
Pressing dark and cold
For so long
But on this morning
From the top of her mountain
With shoulders square and
shadow trailing
She was close enough to
not only see it
But reach out
and hold it
in the palm of her hand
_______
*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.
Framed silhouette
Words in a line
Tower on a shelf
Dream pasted high
First color on a page
Faces behind glass
Stacks of life
Boxed inside
Four walls
and a ceiling
with a floor beneath
Breathing the shadows
and silence
between each dawn and dusk
into a mirror that reflects
It all.
_______
*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.
He looked at me
with his cheshire eyes
And I knew right then
It was over.
My protestations
my propriety–
A mere house of cards
Against the warmth
of his outstretched hand.
The wall of reservations
crumbling
willy-nilly
Until I was left
(Quite quickly, I might add)
With nothing more
than forgotten reason
And the certainty
That I would follow him
to the farthest star
and back.
_______
*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.
This morning on my Facebook page, in honor of the fact that today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, I posted the following status update:
“Mormons don’t participate in Lent because being Mormon is like Lent 24/7. The only thing left to give up is dessert. & NO ONE’S TAKING THAT FROM ME!” –Jenna Jones, comedian/Script P.A. at The Daily Show
As a Mormon, the quote made me laugh pretty hard, because, good grief, it sure feels true! I don’t drink (alcohol, coffee, or tea), don’t smoke, don’t have sex (cuz I’m not married), no porn, no rated R movies or other morally questionable media … so really. What’s left?! My fellow Mormon friends got a good laugh out of it too and a few shared it on their walls. But in the comments that followed the update, one friend (who is not a Mormon) asked, “So, Mormons really don’t participate in Lent? Or was she just saying that?”
I didn’t realize that friends of other faiths might not know we don’t particpate in Lent, so I tried to explain to my best ability. My response was this:
No, we really don’t. At least not a “sponsored by the Church” observance of Lent. A Mormon could certainly observe Lent if he/she wanted to. There’s no rule stating we can’t. But it’s not a practice of the general Church population.
As for a reason why … the quote above, though said in jest, is actually kind of true. We essentially practice Lent all year long. We fast once a month, partake of the sacrament (i.e. communion) weekly, seek to live by a strict health code, live the law of chastity, evaluate (continually) one’s life/habits in comparison to the commandments and example of Christ, and focus on spiritual sanctification through daily prayer, daily study, and daily repentance.
By no means are we perfect at doing all of that every day of every year, but that’s what we’re striving for every day of every year.
This is not to say that Easter isn’t an incredibly important holiday to us. Because it is. And we each look forward to, and prepare for it in different worshipful ways as individuals, families, and congregations. For example, I’m reading the four gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke, & John) with particular focus on the final week of Christ’s life as the weeks lead up to Easter.
Also, as a Church, we are very focused on the events that occurred in the Garden of Gethsemane and the resurrection from the tomb. We are certain of the fact that Christ suffered for us in the Garden and in the reality that he rose from the dead. We believe in a Living Christ (as in, He’s alive right now) who is intimately involved in our salvation and exaltation and works daily with our Heavenly Father in our behalf.
I have reposted this exchange at the request of my friend and hope my response helps shed some light on one aspect of my Mormon faith. I welcome any further questions regarding this, or any other, subject. I would also like to say that I deeply respect all faiths, Christian and otherwise. I find that my own faith and my dedication to it is only enhanced when I learn about other belief systems and I would hope that any comments or questions posed here reflect a similar spirit of respect and generosity.
I dug my hands
into the rich, black soil
Massaging the shoulders
of the tired Earth
Pressing deep
Crafting a womb
Where Life could grow
_______
*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.
I stood on the platform
Staring down
My red patent shoes
Shiny in the sun
People coming and going
This way and that
While I
Quietly waited.
I sat at the table
Draining glass after glass
A bread basket steaming
in front of me
He was on his way
Or so he said
While I
Anxiously waited.
I stood on the side
As she got what she wanted
A promise
A life
After ever
While I
watching the horizon
patiently waited.
Always waiting.
_______
*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.
I don’t love you anymore
Was all he said
As if love was something
You take off
Like dirty socks
Or tennis shoes.
I begged for reasons
I begged for him
to change his mind
Which begging, I now regret
Hours later
I closed the book
Closed the door
Closed my eyes
Closed my heart
It wasn’t until later, though
that I realized
He never said
I’m sorry
_______
*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.
Decidedly so
The hands roll on
Ticking away the night
Moon sits low
A golden bowl
That melts into the dawn
Windows down
Freezing air
Whipping past the miles
Until a world
Stands in between
Where she was
and now
_______
*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.