When I think of myself as a writer little ideas frequently enter my thinking
and I feel I could, should or want to write them down. Sometimes it is just a fleeting insight. Sometimes it is a story I remember and I
begin to develop all the details in my mind throughout the day. At times it is the disappointments, joys or
frustrations of my life. They come to me
almost poetically, rest softly and feel like love. They say, “You are a writer,
you can share this.” So here is a peek at my lovely recent thoughts.
When I think of myself as a writer I want to share my spiritual experiences,
like the thoughts I always have in testimony meeting about D&C 62:3 Nevertheless, ye are blessed, for the
testimony which ye have borne is recorded in heaven for the angels to look upon; and they rejoice
over you, and your sins are forgiven you.
How beautiful is this image; angels recording my weak utterances and
rejoicing . Maybe my mother is one of
those angels. It would make her happy to
know I am trying to keep the faith. Then
the idea that my sins could be forgiven, because I am willing to bear witness
of Jesus Christ, is hopeful. These thoughts make me want to bear my testimony
more and tell God that I love him.
When I think of myself as a writer I want to record my feelings about our
mission call. I don’t know if I should
say that I wish we were in Scotland right now instead of studying Spanish all
day as we prepare for the Canary Islands.
I am not good at Spanish but Mike is.
Can it be my right brain verses his left brain? I have a little knot in my solar plexus as I
contemplate not being able to communicate or understand. I love words and ideas and sharing them. It will be hard but I can do hard and I will
get better. This will be so good for
Mike. He will be fluent very quickly, I
know. He is working a lot harder than I
am. We won’t be leaving until Sept. 3,
so we have more time to study. We speak
Spanish for an hour together on our walk every morning, and I write sentences with the verbs I am
learning and Mike gives me feedback. I
often wake in the night with Spanish words jumping around and they keep me
awake, maybe this is good. Oh Sanish, I
hope someday that I will love you.
When I think of myself as a writer I want to tell about my health issues. Mike calls it the “organ recital.” I feel so blessed that I can still hike 6
miles or more. I don’t have pain to
speak of and I could. There are so many
with Rheumatoid Arthritis who suffer terribly.
Mike calls my feet “Frankin Feet.”
And they are ugly, surgery swollen and horrible but they can walk, mostly pain free. Shoes are a trial for me. I have to buy expensive shoes online for big
wide feet with hammer toes. In my
disdain for my feet I am trying to love them more by washing them at night and
messaging them with oil and wearing socks to bed and telling them how grateful
I am that they keep me going. Oh, dear
feet, even with all your flaws, I love you.
When I think of myself as a writer I wonder if I should write about my
children. There are deep feelings here
that I can’t express. There is too much
quiet in our home and Sunday afternoons when I wish our house was full of
voices and there is peace and quiet. I
never expected them all to live away. I
thought by this time we would have more grandchildren and marriages and family
togetherness. But we get what we get and
I am still happy. But there are those
quiet moments when I think about the family fantasy and wonder. I am
grateful that Michael is close and he is coming to swim this summer. I love him so.
I am glad I am a writer because I believe that life looks and feels better
through the eyes of a writer. I read a
quote once that said, “We live a better life if we know we are going to write
about it.” I love to think about this idea.