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December 8–14 ❘ Stubborn

Poem and discussion centering on the importance of remaining humble enough to do whatever the Lord asks of us, inspired by Official Declarations 1 and 2

Stubborn

It’s hard to be humble
with enemies who hate
when you know you’re right
and to cooperate feels like cowardice,
like lying prone under a drawn sword.

It’s hard to be humble
with friends who love
when they claim you’re wrong
and to listen feels like faithlessness,
like letting go of the iron rod.

Thank God for prophets,
patient breakers of dams
who risk inundation to set free pure,
rolling waters that lift us higher,
push us nearer to the kingdom.

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December 1–7 ❘ Disembodied

Poem and discussion centering on why we might miss our physical bodies in the spirit world, inspired by Doctrine and Covenants 138:50.

Disembodied

For Mom

How long was it before you missed
the pain-wasted shell you left at death,
that vessel you pushed through years
propped by walker and wheelchair
and tried to drag from bed to finish up
your sewing the day you slipped away?

When Dad met you at the threshold,
did you long to fill your arms with his familiar warmth
and hear his heart thumping under your ear?
Do you now wish for the smell of pies baking
or miss the prickle of salivation in reply?
Can you sing hymns without vocal cords,
play preludes without fingers,
do anything but silently hope?

Maybe you are already risen,
well-rested and refreshed, chatting
with Mother Eve’s other faithful daughters.
Maybe you accompany angel choirs
or offer to hem new white robes
for anyone who asks.

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November 24–30 ❘ Blindsided

Poem and discussion centering on how fulfilment of prophecy can take us by surprise, inspired by Doctrine and Covenants 135:1.

Blindsided

I am surprised
by predictable things.

Christmas washes over me
like an annual tsunami.
Daylight saving time ends
and bewilders me with darkness.
Old age creeps up and yells boo
from my mirror. When death
strikes even the elderly,
I am stunned by a life cut short
too soon.

Joseph went like a lamb
to the slaughter and Saints
grieved at his unexpected end.
Disciples of Jesus were shocked
by direct fulfillment of prophecy.

I will probably stare slack-jawed
when He comes again,
scarcely able to believe
what I was told all along.

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November 17–23 ❘ Glossary

Poem and discussion centering on the persecution of the Saints in Missouri, inspired by Doctrine and Covenants 101:1–2.

Glossary

Zion:
rolling green hills bought
for a price, waiting still
to be redeemed;
the clean; the worthy;
the pure in heart, yet
not all

Saints:
just people who are
(1) ecstatic with hope
(2) torn by trial
(3) riddled with sin
(4) purified by fire

Neighbor:
one whose children played
with yours in town, but
who with the mob now
kicks in your door at midnight

Persecuted:
to scrape pine tar and blood-
specked feathers from raw,
naked skin shedding
blistered top layer

Expelled:
to sit on the riverbank wrapped
in sheets of rain and curling
smoke amidst gutted innards
of your former home; to scramble
from fire to fire seeking lost family

Prophet:
one who worries over the future
but sees only as far ahead
as God appoints; child
who trusts his Father’s call
and walks forward into the dark

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November 10–16 ❘ A Man Like Ourselves

Poem and discussion centering on how Jesus Christ is a real, physical being, inspired by Doctrine and Covenants 130:1.

A Man Like Ourselves

If Jesus had no form or beauty
for me to desire—if he had
imperfect teeth and a wide-
gapped, crooked smile,

if he were plain, slight,
or bald, with a freckled
complexion, sunburnt nose,
and distinguishing mole—

he’d still have ears and eyes and limbs,
laugh lines and forehead wrinkles,
skin that’s bled and healed,
scars inside and out.

If he met me at the front gate
with a face I’d mistake for the porter,
it would only seem more natural for him
to unburden me of baggage

and walk with me to the door
asking after family,
how was my trip,
would I like a bite to eat.

If his appearance were as common
as dandelions in summer,
as unremarkable as clean linens hung
fluttering in the yard to dry,

he’d still be more than just like me,
with an understanding
that vivisects hearts
and love that knits them new again.

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November 3–9 ❘ Linked

Poem and discussion centering on the link between living and dead family members, inspired by Doctrine and Covenants 128:18.

Linked

I wonder why
in all their post-earth existence
my parents have never visited
to seed my dreams with counsel
I would seek from them
if they still lived.

They wonder why
in my embodied state
with hands that feel and are felt
I don’t get to work heeding
words they poured into my ears
when they still lived.

We feel after each other,
hearts welded in mutual need
to meet again. We think
if it can’t be so, this world
is an utter waste.

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October 27–November 2 ❘ Nauvoo House

Poem and discussion centering on the construction of Nauvoo House, inspired by Doctrine and Covenants 124:4.

Nauvoo House

I’d like to buy stock
in a boarding house of the Lord
somewhere safe and secure,

a stake in a perpetual timeshare
to be recorded and remembered
from generation to generation,

a sanitarium to rest from all toil
on the healthful banks
of a slow, winding river

to be no more a vagabond
seeking the bread of life
but take up the work of Forever

if such a place exists to welcome
a stranger in a strange land.

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October 20–26 ❘ Hiding Place

Poem and discussion centering on times when we seek God but feel like we can’t find Him, inspired by Doctrine and Covenants 121:1.

Hiding Place

I see your pavilion’s faint outline
pitched in open field,
banners flicking and flashing
in the sun, hitched horses at ease,
the camp milling about
on important errands.

I try to move forward,
but the ground gives way
and I find myself slogging
through a nightmare mire,
never progressing toward
a goal I can’t quite remember.

When I call for help,
the quartermaster perks up
and turns—but where are you?
Your tent flaps never part.
I cannot see you, though I know
you are somewhere.

Maybe you are hiding in wind and sun,
or in concerned eyes of camp followers.
Maybe you have descended below,
beneath the mud, and only wait
to receive my feet.

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October 13–19 ❘ Tithing

Poem and discussion centering on the law of tithing, inspired by Doctrine and Covenants 119:3–4.

Tithing

One-tenth of my interest annually
is 876 hours per year—

attention paid during meetings,
scripture study, family home evening,
ministering assignments, callings,
activities, service projects,
temple sessions—
even rounding up,

all my time spent in worship
tallies to a deficit.

Yet at annual settlement
I declare my balance paid in full,
having padded my little pile
of minutes with a heart overdrawn
in prayer, ever pestering the Lord
for more of His Spirit,

beggar that I am.
Are we not all?

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October 6–12 ❘ Treasure Trove

Poem and discussion centering on where the real treasures in life are to be found, inspired by Doctrine and Covenants 111:10.

Treasure Trove

My parents paid for Sunday shoes
and music lessons, children’s
encyclopedias and youth trips,
New Year’s Eve breakfasts
and offerings to the church
subsidized by selling scrap gold.

They patched together dollars
like a quilt to spread over multitudes.
Some monetary investments withered,
but their garden multiplied tomatoes
and spun off subsidiary zucchini
to feed the neighborhood.

They sometimes worried
they would outlive their means,
but there was always treasure
in their home—jewels cut and polished
by education, love, and discipline
held to catch the Light,

eternal increase willing to spend
and be spent in the cause of the Lord.

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September 29–October 5 ❘ Rushing Waters

Poem and discussion centering on the sound of the Savior’s voice, inspired by Doctrine and Covenants 110:3–4.

Rushing Waters

His voice is in
the constant flow of rivers
running through, over, around

surge of waves
in endless sift of shell,
stone, sand

rattle of rain,
clipped and clean,
punctuated by thunder

crash of geyser
erupting revelation
held back too long

splash of startled lake
when skipped stones ripple
and shiver out new visions

rush of blood pulsing
in ears that hear
echoes of a great heart

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September 22–28 ❘ Overtaken

Poem and discussion centering on God’s unchanging nature, inspired by Doctrine and Covenants 106:4–5.

Overtaken

Though unchanging as a mother
with hands stretched out
to a child testing first steps,
God is adaptable.

He suffers us gladly, tinkers
new ways to treat old complaints,
tweaks a way for us to accomplish
what He commands,

while we who waffle between day
and night are rigid, impatient in pain,
freezing each other in place for past wrongs,
determined not to heal or be healed.

He wants to remake us in His image,
to imprint us like fresh clay,
but we are brittle. We have snuffed
the lamps and huddle under blankets,

unable to tell our own Father
from a thief in the night.

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September 15–21 ❘ Stewardship

Poem and discussion centering on centering on what stewardship means to me, inspired by Doctrine and Covenants 104:14.

Stewardship

This flower-print dress with ruffled trim
belongs to God, as do these red ballet flats.
All my attire is His—whether I plan or buy
on impulse, I use money He lends
to clothe myself.

The dishes in my cupboards
and food in my fridge are all His.
He lets me decide what to stock,
how much to eat, who to invite
to dinner or give a plate of cookies.

Everything I provide for my children,
whether bed or book or toy,
is a gift from Him. I represent
the Lord by what I choose to impart
or withhold—education, advice, attention,
patience in the face of anger,

beauty for ashes,
joy for mourning,
faith instead of despair.
God keeps meticulous books,
fulfilling every jot and tittle,
holding all to account
down to the last mite.

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September 8–14 ❘ Holy Places

Poem and discussion centering on how our homes can be holy places that protect us against the wickedness of this world, inspired by Doctrine and Covenants 101:22.

Holy Places

I watch the sunset from the corner
of Country Mill and Western Drive
and note how rooflines echo Frary Peak
on Antelope Island—bent pyramids
black against the sky and rimmed
with light like glowing magma.

These homes are little mountains of the Lord,
hollows filled with congregants
who follow daily ritual—eat, sleep,
breathe, read, pray, succor, sacrifice,
speak key words from memory
again and again and again,

and when one forgets, another whispers
cues into inclined ear, restoring the rhythm.
All are connected by lines of light,
tethered to a central point
so as day draws down and wraps
shadow around and between them,

they are not alone. God, who knows
what grows or crumbles within,
holds all loose threads in hand
and pulls them taut, thrums them
like the strings of an instrument
to fill His temples with music.

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September 1–7 ❘ School of Prophets

Poem and discussion centering on how the Lord teaches us about Himself from the time we are very young, inspired by Doctrine and Covenants 97:1–5.

School of Prophets

In the church nursery,
we prepare every needful thing:
books and puzzles for gathering,
songs and stories for learning,
animal crackers and water for filling,
toys for winding down.

We give space to the boy
who cries himself to sleep on the floor,
patience to the girl who bowls over
her friends with too much excitement.
We wipe noses and sanitize hands.
We spread laps to sit on and arms to enfold.

Perched on tiny chairs,
we say, “Jesus loves you!”
and each child responds in turn
“I love Jesus!”—bearing simple
testimonies by the spirit of prophecy
foretold for little ones of these last days.

Together we learn scripture
and study precious mysteries
reserved for the pure in heart.

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August 25–31 ❘ Intelligence

Poem and discussion centering on the eternal nature of intelligence, which cannot be created or made, inspired by Doctrine and Covenants 93:29–36.

Intelligence

In my mind, this sunset seems to melt
in a puddle of passion, entwined
with the skyline as it blushes pink.

In reality, the sun is 93 million miles away,
blasting through an earthly atmosphere
that cannot register embarrassment.

I am a tiny speck trapped here,
a next-to-nothing body confined
to a far-flung, water-drop planet,

yet I can read faint lines scratched on paper
and by them understand thoughts and acts
performed two-thousand years before my birth.

I can catch insubstantial syllables on air
and through them grieve at someone’s suffering
or ride another’s joy heavenward,

and though sun and sky are not aware
of me below their glowing pas de deux—
though they are not even aware of themselves—

I am aware of them. Tonight,
I imagine they are in love,
blossoming in wistful embrace.

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August 18–24 ❘ Not by Constraint

Poem and discussion centering on the Word of Wisdom, inspired by Doctrine and Covenants 89:1–21.

Not by Constraint

To me, the weakest of saints
with little judgment or skill,
is given a word of wisdom

adapted to my capacity—
though I find it hard to self-regulate
and too often try to fill deep emptiness

with something solid,
as though a temporal repast
could stick to spiritual ribs.

When the world entices me
to partake of its delicious, desirable
lies not meant for body or belly,

the Lord says I am free
to see temptation as a clarifying offer,
and choose to leave the Destroyer’s fare
on the table.

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August 11–17 ❘ Light of Christ

Poem and discussion centering on how the light of Christ makes all creation possible, inspired by Doctrine and Covenants 88:6–13.

Light of Christ

God said:
Let there be light
and where light is,
life erupts.

On surface,
green plants transmute
sunshine to sweet and fat—
a sacrament all creation craves
for daily communion.

Beneath, earth holds
infrared reserves, vents heat
through deep seabeds to warm
those creeping things
that sun, moon, and stars
can’t reach.

Ultraviolet sanctifies,
anoints our world in ozone
to protect from burning.
X-rays reveal hidden breaks to heal
and uncover corruption
to cut out.

Invisible waves carry words
through air to ears that hear;
spectrum colors stream
to eyes that see messages
in electromagnetic vessels.

Truth sits at my bedside
in a book that dispels darkness
like a lamp in the night.

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August 4–10 ❘ Lost Light

Poem and discussion centering on how light represents Jesus Christ in my life and how I depend upon His light for daily survival, inspired by Doctrine and Covenants 86:6–10.

Lost Light

I feel the loss of You in winter’s onset
when days grow short, when cold
saps green-gold life from trees and plants
till their brittle limbs crack
and crumble to dust.

I feel the loss of You at sundown
when darkness floods over me,
leeching color from earth and sky
till hope’s last drop has pooled
and drained below horizon line.

I feel the loss of You when fog
or smoke clogs heaven with ash
and smells of burning
out of time and season
like a misplaced omen.

In gloom, I drink in winking stars,
bright moon, twinkling party lights,
rippling reflections on water,
scattered glitter, lightning bugs,
wood fires in stone hearths,

any light I can scavenge
as I live the minutes, hours,
days until You dawn on me again.

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July 28–August 3 ❘ O That I Were an Angel

Poem and discussion centering on the key of ministering of angels, inspired by Doctrine and Covenants 84:26.

O That I Were an Angel

Of all the gleaming keys on God’s ring,
I’d choose the one that frees angels
from behind the door where I daily knock,

not to do as Alma wished,
to blare like brass and shake
all earth as he was shaken,

but to glide silently by
and bear up the broken,
rebuild them from inside out

where now I cannot reach.
If there were some law I could obey
whose predicated blessing

would bind the Lord and His hosts
to my direction, legions would surround
and brace loved ones with scaffolds

of strength they seek yet lack.
Perhaps I sin in my wish,
for the Lord remains boundless.
I remain outside His door knocking.

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