Walk By Faith

Walk by faith, will be our test,
Our biggest trial, let's do our best.

Walk by faith, as you depart-
Trusting God will be my part.

Walk by faith, as we adjust,
Learning lessons, building trust.

Walk by faith, a desperate hour,
Aching hearts, the Saviors power.

Walk by faith and sacrifice,
Counsel given, sound advice.

Walk by faith, the lesson learned,
The story told, the pages turned.

Walk by faith will prove to be
Our challenge through eternity.

Christmas Stocking

Decembers here...
There's a chill in the air
And we look forward
With much anticipation
To the holiday season.

A fire in the fireplace
The smell of christmas cookies
Hot apple cider
Cinnamon sticks.
Christmas music softly playing
Warms our hearts
And brings a peaceful smile
To us all.

And yet,
There is an emptiness in our hearts.
There is a sadness we all feel.
This christmas is different.
Our missionary is out in the field
And we feel the void.

Christmas decorations.
Carefully I open the box of treasures.
Santas and reigndeer
Bells and garland
Wreaths that mean so much.
Then my heartstrings are tugged
The lump in my throat tightens.
I open the box with your christmas stocking.
A tear rolls down my cheek as I carefully unfold it.
I read your name on it
And memories flood in.
What a special child you are!
How I miss you!

Decembers here...
And with much love and care
And a tear or two
I hang your christmas stocking.

Words On A Paper

Your letter came.
I can read between the lines.
Although you try to cover up,
I know you're down.
And what do I write back?
What words of encouragement
Can I offer you?
To buoy you up,
Or to help you smile?

My words on a paper
Are the only thing
That I can give to you
At this time.
I cannot reach out to you
And touch your arm
Or embrace you
Or comfort you with a hug.
I cannot do all those things
Which, as a mother,
I am compelled to do.

You are in the mission field.
And I am here at home.
And words on a paper
Have become my link to you.
Words on a paper
Have become my contribution
To comfort you.
Words on a paper have become
The only means I have
With which to send my love to you.
Words of love.
Words of encouragement.
Words on a paper.

We're Hoping To Hear From You

What's new? What's new?
We haven't heard from you.
It's been one week, going on two...
We're hoping to hear from you!

Things at home are ordinary,
But tell us, how's our missionary?
We're lonesome, it's true!!
We're hoping to hear from you!

We're writing letters everyday.
"Hope you're feeling well!" we say.
"Are you busy? Are you ill?"
We're hoping to hear from you still!

I know that when we get your letter
We will all feel so much better!
We miss you...its true.
We're hoping to hear from you!

Becoming A Missionary page2(cont.)

You headed off to the mission field
So far away.
Your faith and your spirit,
Your enthusiasm for the work
Is what we hold onto
Here at home.
We're so proud of you.
To see you go through
All these experiences,
To see your spiritual growth,
To see the fire of your testimony,
To see you...
Becoming a missionary.

Becoming A Missionary page1

Now you're in the mission field.
I can't believe you're really there
Beginning the work
So far away.

It's different now.
In the M.T.C. you were so safe
So secure
Protected by so many caring souls
Who all had your welfare
First and foremost in their minds.

Your letters were cheerful.
We could practically see
Your wide eyed innocence and awe
As you entered this new world.
Your exitement and enthusiasm
Radiated from you
In each and every letter
That we read.

You studied, you learned,
You practiced, you prayed.
And you became...
A missionary.
The walls of the M.T.C.
Enveloped you with love.
The spirit within those walls
Wrapped around you
Like the comforting arms of a mother
Reassuring her child...
And you felt safe.

But the time passed quickly.
It wasn't long before your letters said,
"Can you believe it?
I'll soon be leaving here!"
There was apprehension,
Fear of the unknown.
You had gotten too secure.
There were more good-byes,
A separation from those
Whom you had come to love.
And with both sorrow and anticipation
You left the M.T.C.
A missionary...
Our missionary.

Destination: M.T.C.

Now that you're decisions made,
The work begins, you see.
All energy is focused towards
Destination: M.T.C.

Time is of the essence now.
This is reality.
So many things to plan and do
Destination: M.T.C.

The doctors poke and prod at you.
You get no sympathy.
"Oh no!', you say, "another shot?"
Destination: M.T.C.

The interviews, appointments too.
"Oh no, this just can't be!
I don't think I can handle this!"
Destination: M.T.C.

Stores and shopping, buying clothes,
There is no guarantee
That you'll have room to pack all this!
Destination: M.T.C.

The preparation was intense,
On that we all agree.
But you got it done, and you're on your way!
Destination: M.T.C.

The Decision

"I'm nearly twenty-one", you say...
"But things aren't working out my way.
School's a flop, and work's a bore,
And nothing feels right anymore.

I think I need to make a change,
And my priorities rearrange.
I'll take some time and really pray
And see what Heavenly Father has to say."

Over many months you prayed and pondered.
"What will your answer be?" we wondered.
We left you alone to work it out.
We knew you could, we had no doubt.

We prayed for you as you agonized.
Then you came to us and we realized...
The waiting was over, you'd come to a decision.
And boldly you said, "I'm serving a mission!"

With tears in our eyes, and joy in our hearts
We looked at each other like loving sweethearts
Overwhelmed at the pride and the love felt for you,
And this decision you made because the gospel is true.

A Tribute To My Missionary

The Missionary Experience From A Mother's Perspective

Lost Soul

A soul, confused by darkness sits
And, sadly, is ready to call it quits.
The road's too rough, the path too long
No matter what he does-it's wrong.
His heart is heavy with his own shame
And guilt in knowing that he's to blame.
His life, it seems, is falling apart-
He's breaking promises and breaking hearts.
He's haunted by the things he's done
And disgusted by what he's become. And in his anguish he cries out
And wonders what he's all about.
How could he have gotten so far off track?
Are the wounds too deep to ever go back?
From the core of his being a feeling grows...
"Ask for forgiveness...the Savior knows"
With heartfelt sorrow and tears down his face
He surrenders his sins and repentance takes place.
He can feel his heart lighten as if he's set free...
As the words of our Savior say "COME UNTO ME"

Inspiration

Who knows what thought
Or memory, or word, or scene,
Or person
May touch us in a way as to inspire us?
Who knows what will set it off,
Or when?
Inspiration is a gift from God
Given to your mind.
If you are in tune...you may hear it
Or feel it, or recieve it.
And if you are in tune
You will recognize it
And be thankful for it.
Most thoughts are our own.
A few...are placed there.
Our memories are our own.
Our words are our own.
But people...are placed here and there
To affect different people
At different times.
And they are like inspiration...
A gift from God.

I Feel My Husband Cry

I feel my husband cry
I don't see tears
I feel them
I hear the anguish
Of his soul
He is grieving deeply
For the loss of his family
For the loss of life
As we knew it

His hurt is deep
He won't cry out
Aloud
But I hear him weep
Within

I feel my husband cry
I see tears
That don't fall
I wipe them away
With love
But I can't take them away

I hear his sobs
Mascarading as breath
His wounded heart
Has broken
Over his sons

Feelings

I don't want to write
Cuz then I think
Then I feel
And I cannot afford to.

But the journal draws me
To open up
And let my thoughts
Fill the pages.

But not only words
Cover the pages
Also tears
As I feel.

It may as well be blood
Dripping large drips
Making a mess
Like my life.

My words are my blood
Covering the page
And leaving just
A scar.

Corsive Forces

Self criticism
Defeats
Deflates
Evaporates egos
Corosion
Eats away at the core
Leaves the center
Empty
Frayed
Self-inflicted corosion
Slowly
Gnaws away
Leaving damage
Dissolving confidence
Negative forces
Corosive forces

REGRET

There's a town I know
Called REGRET
A haunting place to live
Full of people in pain
Full of ghosts
Empty streets and boulevards
With strange names...
"Should Have" street
"Could Have" avenue
"Would Have" boulevard
And lots of dead ends.

REGRET'S a lonely place to be in
No one wants to live there
People want to just pass through
And move on
To somewhere better.
Some people have to stay there
Like being stuck in limbo
Or on a dead end street
Or...in hell

REGRET'S a lonely place
There's no one to blame but yourself
When you end up living
In REGRET
Better choices would have prevented a person
From ending up in REGRET
But people always think
There's enough time
To take a detour
To plan a different course
To change directions

Instead they go down the wrong road
And get lost
And drive long and hard
Only to end up
In REGRET
REGRET'S a haunting place to live in

The Shy Ones

Look there
Try to catch
Their eyes
They sit
Invisible
Yearning
To be
Eyes downcast
There's one
Leaning
Against the wall
Desiring
Attention
Silently screaming
Notice me
Approach
With caution
See
Over there
Another one
Noiseless
Detatched
Face saying
Do not intrude
Nor exclude
The shy ones