The Word Nymph Talks on Water

Magpie Tales is one of the best writing memes around, and the prompt is always a thought and emotion-provoking picture. I've only participated a couple of times, but I think you will agree that the regulars over there are a pretty talented bunch!

The Word Nymph Talks on Water

©2012 Susan Noyes Anderson

Even turned to stone,

I can't stop talking.

Water-logged (and -lunged),

I burble on, blow

bubbles with my words

and watch them rising...

till every bit of heat

and hope is gone.

When I run out of air,

I bide my time.

But groups of letters still

clique in my brain.

They gather there,

await the resurrection...

ensure this drowning, too,

shall be in vain.

sculpture: Jason deCaires Taylor

∞§∞

"An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines

of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity."

Happy Martin Luther King Day!

Cliffhanging (part two)

Here we go again: part deux of last week's Saturday Centus. The diabolical Ms. Matlock has granted us only 50 words this time, with no prompt at all. (Part 1 is revisited below, in red, with Part 2 immediately following.)

Cliffhanging (part one)

©2012 Susan Noyes Anderson

4:50 am.

Jan's morning began in the living room, neck protesting a night in her chair. She’d been sitting sentry there (off and on) for years, awaiting errant teenagers, welcoming them in before lecturing them soundly.

But this welcome was too slow in coming. Sean should be home. Trembling, she grabbed her iPhone, exhaling slowly. Nada.

What good were these stupid cell phones, anyway? They made not hearing from your kids even scarier. Especially when their idea of fun was hanging off a cliff. Literally.

Sean knew how she worried. “I’m alive,” he always texted, teasing her. Maybe there was no reception.

Her limbs froze when the doorbell rang. The knocking (urgent, pounding) froze her soul...

∞§∞

Cliffhanging (part two)

"Mrs. Miller...Janet? It's Bud Gray. "

She rose stiffly, cracked the door. "Sheriff?”

"Sean’s in rough shape, Jan. Head injury. Let’s get you to County." Her stomach lurched.

Across town, a nurse smiled. The kid was conscious now, wanted his phone.

“That your beep?” Bud asked, eyes on the road. Breathless, Jan looked down.

"I'm alive," she read, and felt the world rush in.

∞§∞

Tendershootz Is Utah Bound!

click to enlarge

Those of you who frequent my blog are probably aware that my daughter-in-law, Heather, is a multi-talented photographer (great eye, great ideas, great edits). Those who live in Utah might be interested to know that she will be there visiting friends and family in March and has decided to combine business with pleasure by devoting two full days to photo shoots. On the 2nd, she will be in Provo; on the 3rd, she will be in Salt Lake City.

Utahans who feel like having a fun, creative photo session with pictures that are out of the ordinary might want to check out her website and consider spending a little time with our cute Heather (tendershootz@gmail.com). And just to make my blog look a little better today, here are a few samples:

Candid,

posed,

or somewhere in between,

you are sure to be happy with the results!

{i know...isn't she gorgeous?}

Hair Platoon

Hair Platoon

©1994 by Susan Noyes Anderson

My hair marches across my head.

Left face. Right face. Full speed ahead.

A hair platoon, in disarray,

With soldiers who will not obey.

Some stepping here. Some strutting there.

Some standing straight up in the air

At full attention, as they please.

I’ve had enough, Hair. Stand at ease.

Obey my orders. Call me ‘Sir.’

Dismissed. Fall out!

(Oops.)

As you were.

click below for more H posts

The Worth of Souls

In my church, members fast on the first Sunday of every month and donate the money saved on meals to those who are in need. We also have a testimony meeting on that day, when members of the congregation are free to come up to the podium and share their thoughts and beliefs about the gospel of Jesus Christ.

As I've mentioned before, my husband is the bishop (lay leader) of a congregation of youth from ages 18 to 30, and one of these young people bore a testimony recently that I'd like to share with all of you. He works as an insurance adjuster/estimator, meaning that he is the guy from your insurance company who looks your car over after an accident and determines how much it will cost to repair. Apparently, damages range from a few dents or scratches to completely bent axles or cracked frames, and I really like the simple analogy he drew:

We all get anything from a few dings to major damage to our cars at one time or another, and insurance companies pay the price to have them fixed. Occasionally, our vehicles are totaled, meaning that the value of the car is less than the price to repair it. At that point, the car is considered a complete loss and written off.

As people, every one of us carries anything from a few dings to some major damage ourselves. We get broken, and repentance (made possible through the atonement) is Christ paying the price to fix us. Unlike our vehicles, however, we can never be totaled, no matter the devastation. We will never be written off, because our value is inestimable. God's children are of infinite worth, and Christ will pay whatever it takes to reclaim us. In fact, He already has.

"Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God" (D&C 18:10).

Peace is Priceless

Leaving footprints on the shore...

what could any child ask more?

Those who grow up by the sea

own a place where peace comes free.

{Two of my grandkids, livin' the good life in So Cal.}

by tendershootz

click below for more happiness

On Banishing the Inner Punk

Saturday I woke up in a bad mood. There was no particular reason for it, other than the fact that I was feeling sorry for myself. Oh, poor me was my prevailing thought. I caught a cold in December, celebrated New Year's with a kidney infection, and ate my way into a fairly amazing (given the amount of time it took) weight gain to begin 2012.

Of course, my cold was gone...my infection nearly resolved...my healthy eating habits resumed, but that didn't matter. Life was awful. I had boring chores to do, and I couldn't find a good book to read. My car was dirty. My husband was acting cheerful and doing projects. My hair was getting thinner by the minute. The eggs I boiled were too hard. You get the picture. I was the unluckiest person in the universe, hands down. Nobody knew the troubles I'd seen.

Sheesh. What a crock. And even though I realized this intellectually, I couldn't (or wouldn't) pull myself out of it. I went around acting like the martyr of the world all day long, snapping at my husband like an old fishwife, and counting (then recounting) my unblessings. Even the wedding we attended that night couldn't quite reclaim my good nature (though it made a pretty good try)!

Lovely wedding notwithstanding, my Sunday morning mood was only slightly improved. I didn't want to go to church, didn't want to make dinner, didn't want to host the young adult ward for the CES fireside and snacks. I was feeling mad, bad, and kinda sad...and I was ready, though not quite willing, to take everyone down with me. What's more, as this is far from my usual state of mind, my husband was beginning to look at me as if he thought an exorcism might be in order, and the tones he was using in speaking to me sounded like someone trying to talk down a jumper...or soothe a savage beast. Let's face it; I was bristling like a porcupine. (Okay, more prickly than savage, but an unpleasant creature to deal with, nonetheless!)

What cured me? My better-late-than-never decision to push through it, of course, and once sought, the attitude adjustment was a predictably simple one. It involved, as President Hinckley's father once counseled him, forgetting myself and going to work. For me, this took the form of recharging my spiritual batteries at church (thanks, Monta Vista ward, for powerful testimonies and uplifting Relief Society lessons) and replacing self-centeredness with some unselfish service at home. Abandoning the pity pot to prepare and share a good meal with my family set the stage for inner peace so well that hosting our wonderful (and fun) young adult crowd was able to bring the curtain down on my inner punk. And doing the dishes afterward sent her packing!

I don't think she will be missed.

;)

PS: The moral of this story?

The self pity plant draws all of its sunlight directly from our own energy.

It withers in the dark when we direct that energy at others.

Cliffhanging

Jenny's pulled a fast one on us this time...or maybe I should say a slooooow one...because this Centus is going to play out over two weeks. Yep, we're doing a cliffhanger today, one that continues and concludes next Saturday. 100 words each, plus the prompt, which (as always) is in red. Fun, eh?

∞§∞

Cliffhanging

©2012 Susan Noyes Anderson

4:50 am.

Jan's morning began in the living room, neck protesting a night in her chair. She’d been sitting sentry there (off and on) for years, awaiting errant teenagers, welcoming them in before lecturing them soundly.

But this welcome was too slow in coming. Sean should be home. Trembling, she grabbed her iPhone, exhaling slowly. Nada.

What good were these stupid cell phones, anyway? They made not hearing from your kids even scarier. Especially when their idea of fun was hanging off a cliff. Literally.

Sean knew how she worried. “I’m alive,” he always texted, teasing her. Maybe there was no reception.

Her limbs froze when the doorbell rang. The knocking (urgent, pounding) froze her soul...

∞§∞

Grandma Doesn't Live Here Anymore

When my children were much younger, I wrote a number of children's stories in poetic form. At the time, I wanted to write and publish children's picture books, and it was fun to have a goal that kept me going creatively when they were little. Out of that period came a lot of full length story poems, but no publications in book form. (I did manage to get a couple accepted to magazines like Lollipops and such.) Sadly, this one never seemed to land anywhere, yet it is one of my favorites. That's why it felt right to let it land right here today...in my blog...on Memory Lane.

Grandma Doesn't Live Here Anymore

© 1990 Susan Noyes Anderson

My grandma doesn’t live here anymore.

She left the earth and moved far, far away.

I wonder if she flew through space to get there;

and did it take her long, or just one day?

I wonder if she likes the place she’s gone to.

Before I sleep, I look up at the sky...

And whisper, “Do you see the moon like I do?”

“Do all the stars still twinkle in your eye?”

I climb up on my bed and turn the pages

of fairy tales my grandma used to tell.

Some nights I still pretend she’s reading to me.

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” she says. “Sleep well!”

When morning comes, I look up at the white clouds

and see a sailing ship, a bear, a face.

My gran and I would lie down on the green grass;

and, oh, how many pictures we would trace!

Do you think she still sees the clouds like I can?

Could she be close enough to touch them now?

I wonder if she fluffs them up for pillows, or

uses them for cotton balls somehow.

Does she still make a wish on every rainbow?

I do. I’d like to take a rainbow ride.

I bet if I could climb up and slide down one,

I’d find her waiting on the other side.

I know she’s out there somewhere, that’s for sure.

Some days I really miss her, then I cry.

It’s almost like she puts her arms around me

and says, “We’ll be together, by and by.”

And I feel warm inside because I know

I’m going to see my gran again someday.

She gave me clouds, a sailing ship and rainbows,

the moon, and all the stars to light my way.

Gifts, Glorious Gifts!

I don't think anyone's gonna argue with me

that Christmas gifts are a many-splendored thing.

I sorta gave this one (the quilt) to myself.

And these, too, though my husband wrapped 'em up!

My kids really came through for me too (even better than I did)!

Matt and Heather know how much I love my grandchildren.

While Karin and Bobby remember that I love a soft snuggle.

Ryan extends to me the gift of iPOD music in the kitchen.

And Todd lets me feel like part of his med school effort.

My very thoughtful husband gives me the piece de resistance.

(The bracelet, not my mother's engagement ring!)

He knows what I like.

(Creepy hand! I sharpened it so you could see better.)

I love my other gifts too (thanks, everyone),

but I posted these from Dave and the kids to keep it short! (-ish)

=)

for more G posts, click below