Climbing Back up the Ladder

Climbing back into the attic isn't just about overcoming the fall...

For me, it was about remembering three little words my husband taught me. 
It was also about being more conscientious about listening to the Holy Spirit.

The fateful day when I fell, now fifteen months ago, the wrong spirit was in my home. 

My husband and I were arguing about essentially nothing... but the spirit of contention was present. That also meant that the Holy Spirit was not.

It was the Holy Spirit that I felt each time I was quietly reminded to grasp tighter to the ladder. 

The Holy Spirit wasn't there that day... and I had my hands full of stuff and a heart full of anger as I fell backwards 10 feet into the air... landing on a hard floor breaking my back.

The Holy Spirit arrived with the Missionaries that day. The young Priesthood holders who my husband called to bless me, when I screamed for them in pain. 

They were his second call that day, the first being to 911. The Elders performed the blessing with me on a stretcher on my front lawn.

For the next four days, in a haze of intractable pain, I learned to walk again. 

I was in a steel brace for 6 weeks, then released for 6 more weeks of physical therapy. By the time September came, I was preparing to journey to Arizona with my husband to explore the land we dreamed of purchasing.

With Heavenly Father's assistance, I healed. 

When I returned to the house where the accident had occurred, it had been almost a year since the fall. I even surprised myself at the amount of PTSD that the ladder contained within it's every rung. But that very fact made me more determined to climb it.

The attic was my get-away. It was on that hard wooden floor of that attic where I prayed to God to know how to become closer to Jesus Christ. It was in that attic where I received the answer I wasn't ready for. It was in that attic where I was told by my Heavenly Father to be Baptized and become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

It is in that attic, where I feel closer to God. Perhaps, because I spent months up there, alone. Perhaps because the wooden floor has absorbed more of my tears in prayer than any other place in the world. Perhaps. 

As I climbed the ladder.... a poem started to form. I have shared it here:

Three points of Contact

Three points of contact
the words ring in my head

three points of contact
next time could find you dead

Three points of contact
my shoulders loaded with bags

Three points of contact
Forgot to drop my shoes
this could be bad

Three points of contact
Do curled toes count as one?

Three points of contact
four to go, I'm almost done.

Three points of contact
On the way up the stairs

Three points of contact
into my attic lair

Three points of contact
Why do I want to climb?

Three points of contact
to get writing out of my MIND

Three points of conact
almost to the top

Three points of contact
it would be crazy now
to stop!

Three points of contact
my pulse racing in my ears

Three points of contact
amplifying false fears

Three poinst of contact
breath shallow, too fast

Three points of contact,
my feet on the attic floor
I made it at last.

Three points of contact,
the phrase my companion
taught me

Three points of contact
make them each time
you climb
and be free.

Three Points of Contact

(My daily struggle with PTSD from my 10 foot fall off an attic ladder that broke my back, continues...)

I made it up the stairs, but trying to get back to writing when sitting is no longer acceptable to my body was another journey. I had wanted to write for months, but every time I tried to begin, I got frustrated with my pain level and stopped. 
Finally, it happened. I was able to not only put scriptures onto photos I had taken, but I was able to once again articulate in a written form.

So, here it begins. Again. 
Thanks for your patience. 

I hope everyone's week is full of the Love and Lighte of Jesus Christ. 

Converts Are Like Butterflies - A Book of Poetry in Blog Form

I have been working on editing the poetry from the first year of my conversion for a while now.
Some poems I have shared here, some I have shared on other blogs.

Most I have not shared at all.

As I am finishing the editing of the poems, readying them for the book, I have created a space just for them.
The book will be called, "Converts are Like Butterflies: Poetry of Testimony", and the blog is the same.
Converts Are Like Butterflies is the blog where you can watch as I prepare the poetry I have written in the past year for publication.

Please feel free to comment with input.

The dates of the posts will be the original dates that the poems were written, so make sure to check in the past, as I will be "back-filling" them as I get them edited.

Thank you for taking time to read this, may your day be blessed with the Love and Lighte of Christ!

My Marian–A Sister in Zion

From the first time we met --
Both on unfamiliar ground
I knew we’d be quite a pair --
A pair of sisters
Athena likes to be around.

A Relief Society Gathering
Salmon we ate and songs
we did sing.
Several weeks passed
to each of us
separate Blessings He did bring.

Then when a trailer
just wouldn’t suffice --
you offered a hand -
a room, warm and nice.

Looking back on
just a few
weeks together --
I can say
with all my heart
It’s been quite
the pleasure!

As I now go
my way
and you stay
in your zone --
I’ll pack up
my stuff
but in the quilt
of my life 
a square you have sewn.

Of granddaughters
making cookies
in a kitchen full
of smiles and laughs.
To holiday parties
and making sure 
Santa had enough gas.

Floresent balls
thrown out
of the park
and a beautiful
back yard
that never gets dark.

You opened your
home full
of holiday cheer
welcoming my
best friend
baking pies
and my family
far and near.

Thursday cooking
for Elders
making a crowd
You listened
to my music
even when it
was a bit loud.

Thanks for letting
me make
your kitchen a mess
and understanding
when I just
needed to rest.

I enjoyed when
our Home Teacher
taught with his son --
and joining along
when Visiting Teaching
was done.

You’ve shared with
me firsts
we’ve cried & we’ve hugged
We’ve done the dishes
and cleaned the floor
of the mud.

We’ve sat
in the third row
for six weeks or seven
preparing to be
in His Holy presence
Getting closer to Heaven.

I will always
adore the moments
we prayed
And the times you
listened with care
not knowing what to say.

I can’t say
thank you enough
for being there for me
when it could have
been very rough.

I thank our Heavenly Father
with all that I am
For giving me a
friend like you --
a sister since we began.

For now
Athena and I
bid you a
fond farewell.
Not for long,
understand,
in my heart,
always you will dwell.

You go
about your
Missions --
I will travel
on mine.
Until we see
each other
I know we’ll
be just fine.

But please
don’t hesitate
to text
something amusing
or a Scripture I should
read next.

I’m going
to miss
my sweet dear
kind friend
But I ‘know I’ll
be in your prayers,
and I’ll be praying
for you through the end.

 

M ission-minded member

A Sister to all of God’s children

Refuge offered to many needy souls

In His tender care

About Her Heavenly Father’s business

Needed by her sisters full of love for her.



Happy New Year 2014

Love, Maggie

Faith of a Bishop

A congregation
Files in a bit late --
The Sabbath
after Christmas
Has the benches a bit sparse.

Aaronic & Bishopric
in a quiet, yet slightly
troubled stirring.
An Aaronic
Priesthood holder
quietly motions to the
Bishop at the podium,
"PLEASE delay,"
Desperation and concern
color his young face.
A worried chorister
agrees in doubtful
confidence with the Bishop
as he gives her quiet direction.
I watch my Bishop --
A man full of faith --
Say a silent prayer
Then ponder
for a quiet moment,
as the congregation
sat in vapid anticipation;
Then cue
to begin
the Sacrament hymn.
Those of us
paying attention --
Those of us
in a front row --
Took notice
of the faith
of our Bishop

To begin
the Sacrament hymn
Before the
bread
had arrived.

As we began
the second verse
of the slow
and reverent words --
a door opened --
bread passed through.
Sighs of relief
were heard;
more than a few.
The faith
of our Bishop
burned strong
in my heart,
as I heard
my own
message from God
about a new start:

Have faith -
say a prayer -
Then softly and gently
push doubt & doubters aside --
this one isn't their ride.

To the Latter - Day Saints

To those
who have felt
His Healing touch;

To those
who know
we've been
Given much.

To those
who
have glimpsed
His kind face,

and those
who
have stepped away
from the race:

Keep biking,
Keep walking,
Keep soldiering on;

Keep learning,
keep loving,
keep singing 
His songs.

One day
in His Glory,
Will drop
All to their knees.

Someday soon
ALL will witness
Why WE Believe.

Rawhide

A happy
puppy
enjoying
a rawhide
treat.

A Bishop's
speech;
Rawhide

not so
sweet.

Handcarts
and rawhides;
challenges
and blessings
of past.

Faith
and truth
a timeless path.

A Forced Accident

Forced Silence

Penalization
turned Paradise.

Data speeds
Slowed by overuse --

Expected video
DENIED
Silence Remains.

Thoughts Expand
Imagination's Playground --
A ponderer's delight.

An accidental
conversation --

with God.