Friday, March 1, 2013

Lost But Not Forgotten

When I was four years old I was shopping with my Dad in a Sears store in Santa Fe New Mexico. We had just moved into the area. I stopped to look at something.  I guess my dad went on to look for something and I got lost. I remember sitting in someone’s office with a fist full of candy corn, waiting for someone to find my dad.
Ever since that day I have had a fear of being forgotten.
Every time I move to a new area I panic, as my husband and I get lost continually.
But now at least I can map out my destination on the phone and we eventually get where we are going.
Life is like that. We are all here and trying to get back to our Eternal home. We have several mapping systems to help us. We can ask directions from our friends. We have the scriptures to use as a guide. Religious leaders can and are willing to guides us if we want to listen. We know of experienced people who are willing to help. And we can always ask the “Map Maker” himself through prayer. Yet some of us still feel lost.

As we are winding down our lives here in the DC area, packing up the trivia we’ve collected in the last seven years and saying goodbye to the treasured friends we have made; I wonder how much of a lasting impact I’ve made. Looking back at past goals, there are some done, some still waiting. I have had a piece of artwork hung in a public building. I have had a piece of my writing published and have learned and improved in both mediums. I have learned a lot of history. I have passed out my quilts to warm the hearts of many. But I still sit quietly in my own little corner hiding, afraid to live gregariously.

To those of you who have read my wandering thoughts; if you ever feel lost or lonely go to the church on Inglewood. On the left hand side of the chapel, fourth row from the back, lean against the wall and think, here sat a sister who loves you.

I like the rhythm of the city,
The slam bump of the garbage trucks--
Honking horns--
Train whistles--
Sirens as an emergency is settling.
It’s so different from the silent
Desert mountains.
Could I return to the
Crackling thunder;
The lonely coyote call;

I’ve enjoyed being a part of your lives and wish you all the best. Do your best. Be your best. Expect the best.
I'm heading  home to the High Desert

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