A Mother, but Still A Child

It has been a long month for me, and today was not my best. (The twins have had a relapse of not sleeping through the night.) Normally, I would be beating myself up emotionally right now as I drift off to sleep, but not tonight. Tonight, I am making my anchor the fact that I am a child of God, and that no matter how good of a mom, home managing engineer, wife, or friend I am, I am a loved child of God. The ironic thing is that the most common lullaby I sing daily is just that, "I am a child of God". I haven't been listening as I sing to my boys. I haven't been applying that title to this sleep-deprived, exhausted, mother. Yet, this week doing so had been my goal, and it has changed everything. 

When I base my self-perception on God's love for me, my love for myself becomes the one constant in my day because so is His. This morning I read the following from Gordon B. Hinckley:

"There is also in our society a sad tendency among many of us to belittle ourselves. Other persons may appear to us to be sure of themselves, but the fact is that most of us have some feelings of inferiority. The important thing is not to talk to yourself about it. … The important thing is to make the best of all that we have. Don’t waste your time feeling sorry for yourself. Don’t belittle yourself. Never forget that you are a child of God. You have a divine birthright. Something of the very nature of God is within you. We sing, “I am a child of God” (Hymns, no. 301). That isn’t just a figment, a poetic figment--that is the living truth. There is something of divinity within each of us that needs cultivation, that needs to come to the surface, that needs to find expression. You fathers and mothers, teach your children that they are, in a very literal way, sons and daughters of God. There is no greater truth in all the world than that--to think that we have something of divinity in us. Believe in yourself. Believe in your capacity to do great and good things. Believe that no mountain is so high that you cannot climb it. Believe that no storm is so great that you cannot weather it. … You are a child of God, of infinite capacity."

It allowed me not to wallow in depression when I didn't live up to my ideals for myself. So today, when it is so clearly evident that so many suffer in this world, and many ask how there could be a God if He would allow so much pain, I would like to take this moment to declare that He does not create the pain of this world. That is the work of mortality, and the men and women who are a part of it. God will, however, sustain each of us through the pain with his love if we will allow Him to. #childofgod #sharegoodness #hislovechangeseverything

I Time Traveled Today

I time traveled today. I stepped again

onto the mosaic sidewalk just outside

the university and into the universe.

I was again that book-laden girl:

the one with flaxen hair and brains

that loved to be zapped together with guns

set to stun but sometimes killed with stress.

How strange to be that girl in converse,

bag and “love” when, in present day, I am not

even her shadow. I turned the tassel and left

the other windy city to claim new victims.

You see, in a galaxy far far away I died

in a black hole of snow turned to gray slush

and the lustful desire to be no more child,

but grasping for adult-me like a hologram.

Back in the present day, I fiddle with keys

and back out of faculty parking. I do not

switch on the stereo. It is something

she would do—the me of ramen days. I

notice that snow is coming. I’ll walk to class

tomorrow, be that me of Bachelor’s mornings, but I

will stand in front, and she will never

Be back.

-DaLe 11.8.12

The Biggest of the Four Flowers Sitting on Your Lap

"Lotus Lilies" By Curran

I reflected the golden Sun

until, our water field undone,

you came in your frills and ruffles

to sit me next to cream truffles

in your friend’s parlor. Popular

with her virtue white dress, you are

just the assistant as she plucks

us from the lily pads and tucks

each onto your pale jasmine dress.

Many have fallen with finesse

from your lap to the lovers’ boat

where sat some fair lass with her throat

in lace like yours is now. A bow

bigger than your head, but no beau

to push oars through my home while you

twirl your moss green umbrella, you knew

this was not a couples’ ride, but

you came, hoping somehow the cut

of my stem would bring parlor dates,

and filled dance cards. Maybe the fates

know you young miss, for I shall be

in the parlor tonight. Dance with me.

My name in every slot I’ll put,

give you a longing sultry look

like you have done to me, yes I,

the only lily here who knows

you came for me in courting clothes.

~DaLe 7/25/12

City Lights at Dusk

And there fire fell, finding freedom

in certain surrender. I interlocked

my fingers with the beams. His trim

matched the hem of heartache cloth

rainbowed up through my memory.

I am the sunset, most vibrant

in gravity’s pull. I daily dip

beneath Heaven, embered stars sent

by silent stables as my placeholder. Scarlet

horizons reteach rising patterns.

The Sun and I rise again

Tomorrow—to sit on the hill.

-DaLe 08.20.10

Threadbare Carpet Girl

The carpet is worn--

two heavy circles of forever

shaved from midnight

cries. Father and daughter

talks, finding their words

knit through quilted clouds

and threaded heaven.

hard foundations bring broken

flesh, rubbed raw

with deity, his listening ear

finding worth in sunless pleas.

voiceless angels speaking

the language of warmth.

salty tears retain savor,

the flavor of light, echoing

blanket phrases of worth.

the carpet is worn.

-DaLe 6.17.10

Spring: A Narrative in Four Parts

1.

I’ve been lost in pictures too long lately,

Envying frozen faces and captured smiles,

Forgetting the prints they left on soul-marked pages,

Moments melted into goldened glue.

I cannot leave the cover closed.

Dusty echoes calling through shut time folds.

I return often, liking the happiness encased there,

Framed perfectly in hazy-hued memory.

I leave today pictureless. Frozen moments

not possible in thawing Spring. I find today

trivial. Fall will wish for April snapshots,

but I wish only for wrinkled dust.

2.

I sit on April’s rebirth, longing to join Chaucer

in past pilgrimage. He taught me life

and air full of feathered, contenting spices.

Something appears in traveled miles,

More than worn shoes and souvenirs

The soul’s skin forms signs of age,

Lines of living are created.

I miss wrinkled living,

Finding new faces in the mirror

Of fresh-breathed days.

April departs and I remain

Hoping for future paths--

Their worn promise of story.

3.

Time is the marathon runner of Olympia.

Pulling me in persistent journey,

Willing my mind to follow the frame,

To live the speed of life present treads.

The past grows older daily, months ago

become years. My reach grows long; yet,

grip loosens, outlines fade. Moments

once embossed tatter to threads,

used as laces for running game shoes.

Bow-tied memories on my feet,

Racing forward becomes easy.

4.

I cannot look back, refusing to be a pillar

of savorless salt. I plow my future furrow deep,

closing my eyes in ink-spilled finish instead.

Signed off is nail-gripped past,

Tiny seeds drop from today’s toil—

Deep blue is the thunder-iced horizon.

The promise of future fruit sweet.

Some till their path with salt. I,

with mustard, remove mountains

onto my heart’s fleshy table.

Stand on the plain, like a laden tree.

Whittle The Word into weathered trunk:

Carved is Remember not Regret.

-DaLe 06.05.10

Glass Cleaner

I started spring cleaning today

And found you among the clutter—

Whiter version of me, clearer soul lines

to read. Face washed and makeup-less,

your natural skin feels the breeze better,

knows how to breathe better.

I’m tired of living in shells.

Their mask from reality is the hard,

but breakable truth of selfish youth.

- DaLe 05.03.10