My social media apps have all been full of Thanksgiving, end of school year chaos and Christmas preparations – the joy and complications of family. The latest edition of the Segullah journal tackles the same topics.
The essay “Cinderella” by Naomi White moves from childhood memories of what family looks like and means to a more mature and complicated understanding, while Merrijane Rice’s poem “Sister” explores the intent and possible trauma of reaching out. Elaine Rumsey Wagner’s peom “Truth Beautiful” is a touching, lyrical exploration of her grandmother’s teachings. The gorgeous work of Robin Clonts continues to grace our journal’s pages.
May we all find hope, happiness and beauty within the journal during this Christmas and our personal heartaches.
Six years ago this week, my son Isaac, then three, came home from the hospital. He’d been there for weeks, battling a MRSA infection. We thought that with some antibiotics and rest, we’d put the whole scary experience behind us. But there were complications in our future, and even two or three years later, I wasn’t sure that Isaac would ever run, or that the places rubbed raw in my heart from that experience would ever heal.
This morning, he took off to school on his bike, ready to run the mile in PE. He has a gnarly scar that runs the whole length of his thigh, but unless he’s displaying it proudly for everyone at the swimming pool, you’d probably never know. This fall, for the first time, I didn’t pause on October 19th and think about the day we almost lost him. I guess that means we’re all healing. Continue reading The Scars We Bear→
The moment you’ve been waiting for has arrived! The new and improved Segullah literary journal is here!
In the January issue, headed up by Prose Editor Holly Baker and Poetry Editor Lara Niedermeyer, we are delighted to feature thoughtful, funny essays and poems. While Joni Neal’s essay, “The Strength to Laugh at Flour,” resonated particularly with me, since I, too, have been known to fall asleep sitting up at the end of a long day with small children, but the feeling of being completely wrung out is a universal that we relate to regardless of circumstance.
The basketball court lines on the church gymnasium floor encircled us, framing us in the wedding pictures. My new husband and I greeted well-wishers whose shoes clicked along glossy wood as they trod off to eat cheesecake. This was the man I had chosen to share my bed with, have children with, weather sickness and health, school and jobs with. It was to be marital bliss, timeless and eternal.
Some people dream of freedom and flings for life; others of finding the perfect person to spend life with until death breaks open the closed door of matrimony. Mormons dream of happily ever after for eternity, two souls bound in one, physically, emotionally and spiritually.
Amidst a world of casual hook-ups and laissez faire sex, there is something distinctly beautiful about being with only one person body and soul for life. We are certain forty, fifty, sixty or so years of happiness wed on earth will somehow help us make it as a couple in a celestial glory we can’t understand. It is no wonder that single members sometimes question the wisdom of being tossed together with someone unbeknownst to them in the hereafter in order to fulfill promised blessings. Yet even with the promises of heaven upon us, tragedy in marriage often strikes. Continue reading When Eternal Marriage Isn’t→