A short poem that, I think, makes an important point.
A thought occurred to me as I was seeing all the manufactured mysticism: some people have to fake it because they didn’t make it.
I was contemplating the shaking teen who had to do the prayer all over again, and I just couldn’t in my heart believe salvation was in the balance.
I have met the enemy, and it is myself. This is a good news/bad news situation.
I’ve seen him there looking impervious. The question is, am I jealous?
Based on a true and repeated conversation that happens whenever I say, “Go put on your church clothes.”
I was thinking of a children’s song that starts, “I wonder when he comes again…” and I started wondering.
Based on a true testimony meeting, or at least a testimony meeting that really happened.
Sometimes I try to write poems just to impress my ten-year-old boy, and sometimes I even go too low for him. This would be one of those times.
Don’t read to much into this one. I was just screwing around with pentameter during a musical number at church.
I had a lot of time on that airplane to think and I kept coming back to the predicament of the man who was two rows ahead of me.
For my good friends with dementia and everyone who knows who they really are even when they aren’t quite being themselves.
If you haven’t heard this speech in church, then you haven’t been to a Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Is this small and silly thing a metaphor for something bigger and more profound? No, it is not.
I appreciate sacrifice, love, and forgiveness, but I can’t quite get behind the idea that blood sacrifice was for me.
Why did I think of this while walking through South Dakota? I don’t know. But a week later I drew it.
Some people will tell you that a longer-than-normal church meeting is not necessary…
Some of my impressions are silly. This one is not. It’s delightful because it’s just really, really good.