Some Say

I went for a hike in the mountains a few weeks ago. The leaves were starting to change, the air was cool, but not cold, and I was reminded how much I need to be out in nature. Mountain therapy truly works for me. Fall is my favorite season, my favorite time of year. I wrote this poem while I was hiking and thought I’d share.

Some Say

Some say fall is the time when everything begins to die.
I say it’s the time everything comes alive.

Leaves explode into vibrant reds, yellows and oranges.
Wind dances through the trees, whistling, rustling, then stillness.
Long shadows stretch as far as they can in the dimming moments of dusk.
And the songs within my soul blossom and burst forth.

Some say fall is the time when everything begins to fade and die.
I say it’s the time when everything comes alive and shouts for joy.

Time and Seasons

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Today was what we refer to in my church as “fast and testimony” meeting. Usually, the first Sunday of each month is dedicated to fasting, and at church, in sacrament meeting, all members of the congregation are invited, if they so feel the need, to get up and share their testimonies of the gospel. The first person to do so today shared an amazing story of incredible miracles she had seen on a recent trip. The Spirit was so strong, when she sat down I thought to myself, “I love coming to church!”

This has been my thought every Sunday for quite awhile now. Every time I’m at church I leave feeling so uplifted and inspired. I’m always able to feel the Spirit, to learn something, to hear something I needed to hear and I leave with something to ponder. I love Sundays, and I love church!

This hasn’t always been the case, though. I remember going into the bathroom this one Sunday many years ago, feeling tired and frustrated. My youngest was a toddler at the time, or, as I liked to refer to him, my little monster. It was always a near-impossible task just getting to church at all, let alone actually being able to pay attention while I was there. When I walked into the bathroom this other lady in my ward (what we call an LDS congregation) asked me how I was.

“I hate Sundays,” I told her. “Sundays are the worst day of the week.”

I almost couldn’t believe I had let the words out of my mouth, but she leaned toward me and said, “I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels that way sometimes.”

Church with babies and toddlers can be frustrating. But I realized today it is only a time and a season. There are still times I have to get after my ten-year-old daughter and six-year-old son during sacrament meeting for being too loud or for bugging and picking on each other, but for the most part they are pretty good—good enough that I can listen to and enjoy the majority of church.

I think there are many things in our lives that are part of a time and season. Things come and go. As frustrating as those days were in regards to the Sabbath, in many ways I miss them. It’s hard to see your kids grow up. But sometimes it helps to remember that hard times can pass and good times can grow.