Notice

Just a quick alert for anyone who revisits my pages, I'm discontinuing my current domain of www.beckyswritingnook.com, but will still have the blogspot domain, so there may be issues if links were shared under the previous. I'll still be here. You'll find me under my blogspot domain, or just look up Becky's Writing Nook, and you should be able to find me. 

Thank you!

Twinkling Stars

Looking up to the sky of twinkling stars, 

Do I understand what I see, 

This phenomenal diamond evening sky 

That surveys and guards the likes of me?  

Do I see streaming from above a star 

A proclamation of His birth, 

The mortal Messiah condescending, 

That joy may return to our earth? 

Can my heart hear the glorious chorus, 

Heavenly angels drawing near, 

And feel the fullness of a perfect love 

That promptly casts out all my fear?  

Does my light-filled heart cheerfully leap, 

Rejoicing the advent this night?

Do I understand the power of hope, 

Rejuvenated through this sight?

Do I sincerely search and seek the Lord 

To discover His holy place? 

Is my heart present there in reverence, 

So it beholds His holy face?

In absolution, can I fathom now, 

His coming is swiftly at hand? 

Would I appreciate His mighty coming, 

His righteous power understand?

Commentary:

I've been out of the habit of writing my traditional Christmas poem since my personal issues with stress creating writer's block and family needs requiring attention. I thought I better have a try again since so many people with whom I've shared in the past ask me about what I've been doing with my writing every once in a while. There are thoughts about this, but I need a little extra nudge to get myself into doing what I'm thinking. I can be terrible at self-promotion, but if I know people are still interested, that's a definite motivator. 

This poem was based off the shepherds who were visited by the angels while they were watching their flocks.

Lights at Temple Square returned after years of renovation. The Salt Lake Temple is still being
worked on, but many of the ground areas are opened up again.

Thankful Sensations

I am thankful to wake up and see

A gold-pink sunrise shining on me!

I am thankful of the smells near me,

Aromas of flower and bloomed tree!

I am thankful for melodies sweet

Tunes that inspire, calm, or move my feet!

I am thankful for a summer day,

When frozen treats cool the heat away!

I am thankful for the wintry cold,

With warm blankets to snuggle and hold!

Commentary:

I've been distracted for a while; It's been a long time since I sat down to try out a poem. I challenged myself to do this quick poetry brain exercise tonight. I thought that it might be interesting to express some gratitude representing the five senses. I hope it worked.

A wild daisy flower with a valley background.

The Completed Puzzle

Sometimes, on a cloudy, and rain-drenched day,

It is dark, and your watery eyes can't see.

The heavy ladened heart, it wants to say,

"There's no one who really cares about me."

Listen not, it's a deep-trenched tale untrue.

Deep within lies the truth that's much greater.

One still wholeheartedly believes in you

His love extends out sooner than later.

It presents as little jigsaw pieces

Tender moments together connected

Gradually the vision increases

Until at last, the whole view erected!

Look! Now you can see, it was always there!

During dark frustrated times you still see,

It connected piece by piece, everywhere,

And connects throughout all eternity.

Commentary:

This was written after being challenged by someone recently to write a poem using a jigsaw puzzle and the message of being loved. I was unsure about being able to do it. I feel like my mind hasn't been working at its ultimate strength because of the years of high stress I had dealt with, but that is beginning to be long enough ago that my mind should have recovered at least a little since then. Challenge accepted. This was written as a result.

I was thinking about how we feel the love of God in our lives. I think that there's a misunderstanding out there about what really is evidence of his love. Hearing about the stories of the past, we're often told of the miracles that happen as great momentous experiences, but I'm guessing that the reality was that the majority of those moments just looked like normal occurrences to those who don't look at things in religious terms. In reality, it's the every-day occurrences, such as a kind gesture, a helping hand, a word of encouragement, and so on that provides the little pieces of evidence of God's love, and as they gradually fit in all together into a whole and complete picture, we begin to see in a much clearer view how beautiful and complete His love really is.

It's a little like this puzzle I got for Christmas once. All I was given was the bag of puzzle pieces. I had no box with a picture, nor a copy of the picture on a paper, to guide me. All I could do was work it out by sorting the colors. It was quite a challenge, but as I went through piece by piece, I slowly began to see the picture. Look at the adorable result!

Someone guessed correctly that I was a kitty (cat) person! 💖💓💗😻😻😻

My completed puzzle

A Holy Home

It's a special, beautiful day.

Our home is become a holy place,

For our Lord is come for a visit.

My sister, mindful of our guest,

Begins the tasks to make it presentable.

I look at her in awe,

As she goes around the rooms,

Seeing to it that needs are met.

What an admirable person!

Yet, as I look to my guest, I'm torn.

I know I should help,

But the business feels distracting.

The yearning within me desires

That I should stay with my guest,

To listen to him as he speaks,

To learn of his words and teachings,

To know Him.

How can I leave His side,

When His food nourishes better than mine? 

My sister, in her business,

She's not so happy with me,

But He knew how to comfort us both

In one simple thought

That causes us both to think,

And want to be better.

What a blessed, wonderful day!

That the Lord came to visit us,

To make our home holy indeed.

Commentary:

It's been a while, but on thinking about my now deceased brother, I was thinking about one bible story, and I wanted to write something about it, but this one popped into my head immediately afterward, and it began stewing within my mind. Perhaps that other story will be referred to at a later time, but this one really caught on. I was thinking about this story (of the sisters Martha and Mary), and remembering my mom, plus several other women state that they felt like they related a lot to Martha--the busy one, and it seemed like it often stopped there. No one really seemed to understand, or at least talked about what it was that Jesus was pointing out in this story. I've always asked the question, What did Mary do that was so admirable? No one as far as I can remember has ever discussed it, and I always felt like I was a little bit out of the norm in thinking that I could relate more to Mary, thinking how likely it was that I would prefer to be with my guest and not fuss over the mundane tasks, and most likely would be chided for not helping. Since I was of a different perspective, I thought I would try to sit down and write this out on behalf of Mary and what she might have been thinking in this story.

This attempt may have left some things out, but the general idea is there. This is the results of my reflection on this story, and perhaps there's more to learn from it, but this is as I have come to understand it at this moment.

A rainbow from earlier this year.

It is Not So

In the stillness and silence of the night,

My sleep is disturbed, I'm awakened.

Thoughts begin to stir within my mind,

And my heart, it speaks.

It's heavy, burdened with grief.

So many changes in such a short time,

Loss still makes life too surreal.

I feel so lost without you.

Who am I? What good am I anymore?

How do I move on, without you nearby?

Alone: I feel so alone.

No more comfort hugs for you and me.

No one to talk to when I need advice,

Or to just have someone's presence near my side.

Directionless. Stuck. Lost.

The groan from within, a mourner's call,

It takes over, and fountains fall.

Let out shameless at full power.

Am I forgotten? I cry out.

From all this pain, it certainly feels so,

But when after the emotions have all worked out,

And the quiet has again returned to my heart,

I am reminded.

As alone as it feels, it is not so.

For even though your presence is gone,

And it's not always easy to feel,

You are still here with me.

As the environment stillness grows,

It lightens the heaviness of my load,

Calming my soul as I listen.

The quiet, it speaks in a comforting tone

In its powerful stillness, I know,

As alone as it might seem, it is not so,

And for whatever confusion I may face,

I must remember not to diminish the reality

That worthless was never the value of my soul.

Comment:

This was written in the middle of the night, one of those moments most, if not all, people have at some point, when the heart felt heavy. I'm not even sure it was for one specific reason, but it was triggered by something from the previous day. It was one of those nights when a cry was necessary to unload the burden, and the need for expression came out in this manner. 

I don't think all of the struggles I expressed here were ones I was dealing with in the moment, but it was a prime example of what went through my mind in the following months after the passing of my disabled brother. It was only 1 1/2 years since the death of my mom when he passed, so it came as an extra whammy in the adjustment compartment, and we were really close; It felt that way anyway. It's almost five months, so things are still a little tender.

Beautiful Funeral Flower Arrangement

The Worth of Tenderness

It seems to be so much easier,

To block everything out.

Not letting anything in,

So self-preservation controls.

It's easy to assume no one cares,

That it's gone all stiff,

Solidifying under pressure,

And becoming an stoic stone.

On the other hand, what would happen,

If in some miraculous manner

Permeation was still in effect?

Such a wondrous difference!

For in its dry sponge-like state,

It's so small, it's practically nothing,

Yet as the emotions pour upon it,

What an extraordinary expanse!

It grows to an impressive size,

Two, three, four times from its original dimension,

Perhaps even larger.

What a difference it makes!

But with its size is an increase of heaviness,

Large and heavy, filled to full potential,

And of course, it weeps,

Oh, how it weeps!

But even in this impressive state,

A presentation of the most beautiful expression,

Gushing out from the very soul!

An intimate and inspiring act to witness!

For even though it saturates all:

The extremely difficult sting of pain,

The exhilaration from those moments of joy,

It's far better than taking in nothing.

In this world, is tenderness worth it?

When any moment could bring it remarkable pain?

It's indeed a difficult journey, requiring courage,

But yes is the final answer, again and again.

Commentary:

Several years ago, I was using an object lesson explaining the difference between a hard heart and a soft heart. In the lesson, I took a rock to symbolize the hard heart, and a sponge to symbolize the soft heart. I had the children pour water over both to see what happened. The hard heart got wet, but otherwise wasn't affected at all, while the soft heart grew and expanded as it took in the water--and it took in a lot of water! After doing the experiment, I found myself not able to verbally explain the lesson, and found it a little frustrating that I couldn't do it properly in the moment, but here I'm able to put some of my thoughts about that demonstration into words. There was far more to my point that I put into the poem, as I was trying to explain how receptive people are to learning and understanding when they allow themselves to receive inspiration, which can be quite vulnerable.

This is by far a reflection of my more positive thinking, since some of my most recent entries have reflected a little bit more on my melancholic state when it sets in. That's just being human. We all have to have some moments of melancholy at some time. But, as I always say, whether melancholic or not: Life is good.