Forget-Me-Not

I'm sure it depends a great deal on the personalities, strengths, and weaknesses, of both the parent and child. When my brother converted to another faith, my mother was absolutely devastated, calling me to tell me he had apostatized and was lost. That created difficulties for me, too, because I knew in advance that he was intending to be baptized into another faith, but she did not. He only told her 1 week before his baptism. Our mother could tell some of his attitudes had changed about the LDS faith, but was not prepared for the shock that he was leaving the church and joining another. I had mixed feelings about not saying anything even though I knew for some time that he was going to classes intending to convert, but I felt it was not my place to be the one to tell her, and that it was right that he do so. I tried to comfort her, telling her that maybe this was where he needed to be for now, as he was starting to come closer to Christ than he had been in a very long time. I don't think that was much comfort to her, at first, but it's been a few years now and she's recognizing that his love of the Lord has grown and that he's a good man, in spite of leaving the faith.

I remember a conference address or Ensign article where an example was given of a woman who had committed a grave sin, don't remember what it was, but though she was penitent and remorseful in her heart, and lived humbly and faithfully afterwards, with much self condemnation, she did not confess for decades. I don't remember how that confession came about, either, but the compassion extended to her was beautiful and profound, and seems to me the perspective was that she had punished herself far more than any action that could have been taken against her.

Yes, prettyrose, trust Him! You know this, I know, but He knows what you've gone through completely. Not a tear or pain you've suffered in this that He does not know intimately and has perfect love, understanding, and compassion for! I'm going through something myself, that is a worse pain than any I've suffered in my life, or any that I could have even imagined, and I truly could not endure it if I did not know my Lord knows exactly what I'm suffering. He is the only one who can truly know, and the only complete and pure source of comfort and healing for us in this world. I'm reminding myself of this as I'm reminding you of it. It's something I have to do each and every day, sometimes many times each day. But He is ever there, if we allow Him to be, wanting us to give our sufferings and burdens to his care and give us the peace that can only come from Him.

Through These Eyes I've seen the good, they see the bad They see the hardness, I've seen the sad I've seen the strength, they see the straw Accusing weakness and excess flaw I've seen the noble, they see disdain They see the selfish, I've seen the pain I've seen the struggle, they see the weak They see the callous, I've seen the meek They see the coldness, I've seen the heart I've seen the whole, they see but part They see an image, one they despise I've seen the truth of you, through these eyes

Just a little comment here. Seems reasonable, to me, at least, that if this girl has such an out of control sex drive, well, then chances are her new love interest is likely already aware of it. Just sayin'

Oh prettyrose, How hard it can be to grieve a loss, but especially when there has been a loss that involves a betrayal of trust, and along with that, on top of it, with the loss of having ones hopes and dreams for their future so shattered too. I can only imagine the awful degree of your suffering. How a man could do this is entirely beyond me. Such a man is scarcely worthy of a single tear, yet I know you have already shed many and I ache for you that you will likely shed many more before you're through. I fervently pray that the pain and suffering his selfishness has caused you can be quickly swallowed up in comfort, peace, and healing, and that all you ever hoped for will one day be found with a wonderful man who will love and deserve you and make you truly happy. My thoughts and prayers are with you.

His Heart His sorrows as the storming sea His moods the changing tide His thoughts as deep as dark of night Beyond the stars abide His eyes the shade of evening sky As clear as flawless glass Reveal the suffering of his soul His scars they far surpass His many cares weigh heavily His hopes they wax and wane His deepest dreams elusive still His longings steeped in pain And yet this man seems not to know The thing his heart affords Though broken deep is fragile not But strong as silken cords Resilient far beyond his wounds It harbors power within The day his strength of heart he sees His life will then begin ____________________ Her Heart Her sorrows like a river flow Her moods they rise and fall Her thoughts of him she can't forget They beckon and they call Her eyes in sadness darken As she weeps herself to sleep But with this man so far away His words her heart must keep So many cares she has for him For hopes and dreams he lost To God she pleads his happiness She prays at any cost This woman tries to understand Yet so much he conceals So she is left to wonder With the little he reveals But what she knows she can't deny It can't be torn apart Because the last he said to her Was listen to her heart

Awe, thanks Pam. I just re-read it and already see multiple needed editings, but, oh well. It was such a wonderful time though. It will always be a highlight of my life. :)

Poetry, rather than story writing, is my most typical way of expressing feelings and emotions, but, on rare occasion I'm moved to write of an event from my life that has special meaning in story form. With having occasion Sunday to reminisce about a very meaningful time I had this past summer I felt inclined to write a little something about it. Please excuse my poor sentence structure, faulty punctuation, wordiness, and lack of better focus skills in my attempt to tell the story... This Boy Though I was unaware of it when young, I later discovered I was born with an innate love of children. No, not the kind that ever made me want to open a daycare center, or teach school, or mother the neighborhood hoard. No, I was much too shy, introverted, and far too accustomed to quiet solitude for that. What I mean is the kind of innate love that fills one up with compassion when a child is sick, or hurt, or causes fear when they're in danger, and most especially to ache deeply within when they must suffer the pain of neglect or abuse. No child should suffer such. Children are an heritage of the Lord, a gift from God, precious in his sight and of infinite worth. Having said that, though, even if a child were preciously and "infinitely" cute (realizing most parents are convinced theirs are) that cuteness would not be enough to entice me to want to babysit. No, I had very little experience with babies or children and I often questioned if I would ever have sufficient patience for my own, of which I had none. Children that is. Yes, I had wanted to grow up to be a mommy, but apparently that was not meant to be. If my girlhood dreams and longings for love, home, and family were yet to come true, I'd still want that, even now, just as much if not more. At least, I'd want to be the loving step-mother and grandmother to the offspring of a loving husband. No one else's brood, though, thank you just the same. I hasten to add, however, lest by that last confession it may seem I have insufficient fondness for children, in spite of my professed love for them, I should say I think that not to be the case. Aside from a simple lack of experience, my reservations, where children are concerned, came, I suspect, by way of always having an inner sense that I would not be granted the blessing of motherhood, and it may have been a type of self preservation, to keep my emotions more distant from children, so that ungranted desire might be less painful. I have, however, had a few children come absolutely and irresistibly into my heart and I should like to tell a little about one. During the summer of 2011, I had the opportunity of traveling to a relation's home and spending several days with a young visiting male family member, the age of 11. He'd come from a far distance and it was our first meeting. He was also, without doubt, the most adorably cute and perfect child, ever, for whom I fell hopelessly head over heels. I'd not had such fun, nor taken such sheer pleasure in my days from morning till night for many years. He was pure joy! He was my companion, my friend, my playmate, my buddy and my partner in crime. Well, as much crime as a perfect 11 year old boy might muster. A rare treasure that kindled in my heart all the tender maternal longings and affections that lay dormant for so long. Curiously, to me, at some point he seemed to try the patience of nearly every other adult family member in his presence and some frequently. But for me, I thought him absolute perfection! Yes, perfection, even down to his boyish penchant for making "fart" noises with his mouth against his hands, as well as the time he was sternly scolded by his great-grandmother for belching at the dinner table. But, really, what things could be more perfectly natural to an 11 year old boy? Yes, he was perfect. So sweet, so helpful, so pleased to share, so eager, so bright, so energetic and full of life. The light in his eyes was captivating and his smile would warm me in an instant. I'll always remember the night I quietly slipped down stairs to go out onto the back patio after all were in bed. I had taught this boy how to play cribbage the night before and, for any who don't know the game, it's not always the easiest to teach, or learn, but he had caught on as only a brilliant boy could, so we had planned to stay up late again this night and play. But earlier that evening he had apparently committed some infraction, the type of which I never learned (nor did he seem to know) and he had been sent to bed early, before sunset, and I had been informed that he and I would not be allowed to stay up that night and play cards. I was very disappointed, but since I was not the ruling female present in the household, I, too, was expected to obey, which meant no late night of card playing. No fun giggling together, nor laughing harder as we tried to shush each other in an effort to not waken everyone when we got too loud. No creeping back into the kitchen for snacks. No battling mosquitos together. No running back and forth waving our arms to activate the motion detection light to continue to illuminate our game, and no awe at watching a grotesquely huge yet fascinating moth, as had come to call the night before. No, this lonely night I made my way down stairs in the dark to go out to the patio alone for some melancholy solitude. As I reached the foot of the stairwell and began to pass by this boy's bed, made up on the living room couch, I saw through the dim light that he was awake, with a look of sorrow in his eyes. With light from his great-grandmother's bedside reading lamp shining through her open doorway, only a few feet away, I dared not speak, but, instead, smiled at him sweetly in sympathy as I continued on my way, feeling quite sorry for him at his banishment to his couch-bed. As I walked out onto the back patio, intending to sit in the relief of the cooling night breeze and watch the moonlit sky alone, I happened to glance back at the door and there this boy was, with his hands and face pressed tightly against the window pane looking out sadly after me. Oh! What woman with a love of children could not have her heart melt at such a scene?! I walked back and quietly opened the door, whispering to ask what he was doing up, saying that if his great-grandmother got up and found he was not in his bed, he would be in trouble. He looked downward, gently shrugged, then looked up into my eyes and assured me it would be okay. What could I do? Order him back to bed? I just couldn't! Instead, I let him come out with me and lay down at one end of the patio futon, as I sat at the other, to gaze out at the night sky. So there we two were, quietly soaking up not only the beautiful night, but the feelings of comfort in the companionship of one another. Oh this boy, who so completely wove his way into my heart, what a rare and special child he was, precious and of infinite worth in the eyes of God, and in my own.

Well, my mother wrote poetry and hymns so I had that influence. I was extremely shy when I was younger so expressing my thoughts or feelings was not easy. Writing is a way for me to do so, even now. Most of my poetry is serious and sometimes tainted with sadness. Some is too personal to share but it's therapeutic too, I think.

Thank you Classylady. :)

Thanks Pam. Poetry is sort of how I bare my soul I guess.

Hi Pam, yeah, I did. :)

Rewards Today I labored in the fields The sun burned bright and hot The day was long, my back did ache Relief was what I sought And then at last the work was done My burden was removed I sat awhile and drank my fill My thirst at last subdued I lay to rest beside a tree And pondered long the day I thought of how I'd worked so hard To earn such little pay It all seemed futile in my eyes The toil and daily strife What of rewards? When do they come To gratify one's life? But peaceful calm came over me I watched the sunset pass I felt the breeze upon my face The coolness of the grass The moon and stars began to shine The sky a deepened blue The trees became a silhouette Against the changing hue And, Ah! At last unveiled My reward for me to see A gift of beauty, peace, and rest Is what was given me

Um, well, it didn't go. He wouldn't see me alone. I wasn't exactly pleased at first. Was embarrassed, for one. Still am, but for different reasons now, realizing I'm still very human and not as strong as I sometimes like to think. I was hurt though, at first, enough to cry for a few days, even, lol. But he had expressed concerns that we might, under our rather unusual circumstances, have difficulty restraining ourselves. I had thought, "Okay, so I was having a little trouble breathing when I was near him, but what's really to restrain? We're adults. It's not like we're ruled by hormones at our ages. Surely we're mature enough to control our behavior." I really believed that, too, until after he went home. Then I realized he did the right thing and I love him all the more for it, because it wasn't about what he wanted but his desire to protect me.

A Father's Son The day he came into the world, My mind was filled with awe, My heart more full of love so deep, Than ever could I draw, His tiny fingers, little hands, His arms and legs and toes, His mouth so sweet, his ears so small, His perfect eyes and nose, What was this son of mine to be, This sleeping angel, now, When days ahead would pass to years, And furrows taint his brow? What would he be, what would he know, What journey would he take? What joys and sorrows would he have, What choices would he make? And I, as father, to this son, How would I guide his way? What should I do to teach this child, What could I do and say? To keep him well, to keep him safe, A father's heart's desire, To give him love and confidence, And all he may require, To grow into the best of men, This earth is wont to see, A father's dream, to help his son, Be all that he can be. And then a thought, I hadn't thought, Came gently to my mind, My Father, God, in His desire, Has thoughts of these same kind, For me, His child, a son He loves, His greatest heart's desire, To give me love and confidence, And all I may require, To grow into the best that earth, And heavn' is wont to see, My Father's dream, to help me, too, Be all that I can be. Oh my Dear God, oh my dear son, I have a labor, pure, I have a path to journey on, A purpose, to be sure, To do my best, to be my best, To love and serve and give, To each of you, what you deserve, I pray, I so may live.

But I'm in Oregon. I've watched for the green flash, but I've never seen it. But, then, I don't know if it's as visible here. I'd love to see the glowing algae. Tonight Newport, Oregon is supposed to be a low of 34 degrees. Cuddle weather, for sure, so I'm thinking, maybe not a good idea, lol.

Ah, yes, the San Diego area has some beautiful beaches. Love the sunsets. Actually, that's what I'd like to do, watch the set and rise, but that would be a pretty long date, especially with winter upon us.

Yes, I still want to do that date, but still reconsidering. Maybe it should wait for a later date, when I have my breathing better under control, lol. I do love the ocean though. Grew up in Southern California a couple miles from the beach. One of the hardest things for me when I lived in Utah was being so far from the ocean. But, at least I got to see lots of seagulls, lol. Live in Oregon now and the coast is about 85 miles away, so that's not bad. Love the Oregon coastline.

Lol, yep, that would help. In the meantime, though, I'm almost thinking I'll be safer once he's back home 2600 miles away and we're just text on a computer screen again. Gosh, feels like I'm a teenager all over again...

Um, okay, might be reconsidering the first date plans. Not sure now if a date on the beach on a cold clear starry night with a crescent moon is such a good idea after all. Might be a little risky. Saw him today for the first time in nearly 13 years. Thankfully there were several family members present. His eyes were even more piercing azure blue than I remembered. His hands more beautifully sculpted. And his voice, oh my. I could hardly breathe! Maybe we should go bowling instead.

Thank you. You're right. I like that way of looking at it. But I think I scared him. Or, I'm just dense, or something, lol. We were messaging and talking about how we'd see each other, and he mentioned that he was going to his grandparents in a few days, and then later in the conversation I said I had a question for him, and he came back saying, "I know, you want to go with me." I said well that would depend on whether or not he wanted me to go with him, but that wasn't my question. Then I brought up the date, and that's when he went off the radar. Think maybe he wanted me to go with him to his grandparent's? That maybe I should have said, "Yes, I would like that." ??? I know nothing. Not only have I never asked a man on a date before, but the last time I was on a date I was 19 years old! I don't know how to do this, at all, lol...

Oh gosh! I love that! Lol. My brother did that one time walking down the street looking at a girl, walked right into a stop sign! Stopped him cold, lol.

Oh that sounds wonderful! Well, except the literally shaking part. That's what I'm expecting of me. He's also younger than I am, which doesn't help. I'm afraid he's picturing me as I looked the last time he saw me, even though he's seen current pictures. But, when I told him today not all my wrinkles show in my pictures, he said not all his did either, so I was glad of that, lol!

Wow! That's amazing. So, what was it like seeing him for the first time after all those years? I mean, I'm a little paranoid here. I know when you love someone their creases and lines and wrinkles don't matter, you see past those things, but I'm still a little, um, terrified I think, lol. Pictures are one thing. Real life in the glare of the light of day is a little scary. Yet I don't care about his wrinkles at all, or any gray, or even his bad tattoos from his wild youth. He's beautiful to me. Well, don't know if men like that word, but he is, and he thinks I'm beautiful. I just don't want him to be disappointed.