Bookends

The left to right we live our lives in doesn’t seem quite fair
to one goes all the hope and bliss, the other gets despair.
“For I Nephi having been born of goodly parents” can tell
of all the greatness that will come before “I bid unto all farewell”.
And wailing blurbs of fat and bone enfolded with tender love
are but a distant memory when the same soul leaves to dwell above.

But left to right we always move with stops along the way,
always wondering when the right will come to win the day.
A friend is made and plans abound in the future’s open view;
but suddenly the ending comes, there is nothing we can do.
The day begins brilliant and clear unblemished by mistake
but whether the time proves sour or sweet, night will come and take.

And so we laugh and dance and trust and do all that we can.
For when the right claims her due part we cannot start again.
Our time comes with a limit. It’s borrowed from above.
But it’s the middle of left and right which I have grown to love.

Sweet Perspective

On the bus the other day I saw a little boy, maybe three or four and his mother. I should have been reading or studying something (which, by the way, is certainly what I should be doing now, but oh well) but I found myself totally captivated by the way his little hands seemed to find everything and touch it. Sometimes I wish I didn't know quite as much as I did about microbiology but that is another story. So he was touching everything and talking so fast that he could barely get his sentences out. His mother was young and clearly she was just coming home from a not-so-short day at work and she looked exhausted but was putting up a valiant effort to make her grunts correlate with his gasps for breath so that he knew she was trying to listen. You could tell that she loved him in spite of her lack of energy. Luckily, this was more than enough for him and he just kept chattering and reaching and touching and being just about the most adorable thing I had seen that day. Then I guess he ran out of things to touch because his two and a half foot form just wasn't cutting it for him. He stuck his little rear in the air and maneuvered up to stand on the seat and reach for the emergency window release and the stop alert cable and the face of the person behind them and everything else his increased stature allowed him access to. I was several seats back but I was able to see the exhaustion on his mother's face as she turned to face him and gently reseat him. His little back arched into a marvelous lordosis and he trumpeted a marvelous squawk of protest. She kept her hands firmly on his little legs even as his chubby fists balled in frustration and his squeals increased in pitch and volume. Obviously at this point I was not the only one watching the drama unfurl, and I'm willing to bet that I am also not the only one who felt simultaneously sorry for the mother and amused by the adorable little guy. Anyway, so the bus continued and the boy flatly refused to be amused by anything his desperate mother offered him--food, toys, her purse, even her phone. For him, the only possible way to find happiness was to play with what had been forbidden him and that was absolutely all that mattered.

Later, being the overlyanylitical sappy female that I am (a trait I both blame and thank my mother for) I was thinking about this scene and her thousands of sisters and I realized how much like the little four year old I am. Sometimes I wonder if it is only the fact that Heavenly Father is perfect that keeps him from rolling His eyes at me as I make huge deals over nothing, as I prattle on endlessly about the busy insignificances of my life, as I make the same mistakes over and over and over again, and most of all as I allow my perspective to be consumed by that which is currently out of my reach--probably for a reason.

As an eternally single LDS female I think I sometimes get fixated on marriage and dating. In my own defence, LDS culture, as wonderful as it is, encourages this practice and many around me are also fixated on this, but I still know better and shouldn't get caught up in all if it. Unfortunately, like the little boy on the bus, sometimes I resent the course set out in front of me and am totally focused on those things just out of my reach, determined that their absence in my life signifies some great character flaw on my part. This is of course ridiculous but there you go. The truth is that my life is rich and wonderful and happy and full of opportunities and greatness and blessings that I can't even come close to numbering when I try. I am not sick, I'm just single. This is not a malady or even a personality trait, it is only a situation that is possibly not permanent, but even if it is, it is still just a situation. I am also white, and poor, and in my 20s, and living in a basement. My room is messy. I don't have time to read as much as I'd like. I am going through a crazy kick where I can't get enough sweet potatoes. All situations and phases that I don't allow to define who I am, so why do I try to let my singledom encroach into my self esteem? Why do I focus so closely on the few things I don't have that I can't see all the things I do? All around me Heavenly Father is offering things for me to do and be and improve and focus on, how dumb to complain and tantrum because I currently don't have access to something I probably couldn't handle any way.

Happily for me the scriptures and church and the temple and life in general is so packed with perspective I can't dwell too long on the emergency release or abnormally large nose of the man behind me as long as I keep worship a regular part of my life. And my loving Father continues to offer me food, toys, and even a way to communicate with Him to keep me happy since that is, after all, what he wants for me. My life is so wonderful. How dare I lose perspective? I am so so happy!