Chapter 30 plus some welcome news!!

Two seconds ago I got some really amazing news. No, it's not about the Goodreads Choice Award. SING ME TO SLEEP didn't win, but thanks to all of you and your help and votes, we made a darn good showing.

This is even better than that! After weeks and weeks watching and waiting for this incredible recording of the song that changes Beth's life the Amabile Youth Singers were so gracious to produce for me, I'm delighted to announce "Take me Home," from SING ME TO SLEEP is now available on iTunes.  Harriet Bushman, composer and arranger, astounded me with what she turned my words into. We're mourning here in Arizona--I cried again today when the TV coverage showed the gigantic 9/11 flag hung between two ladder trucks in front of the church where the little nine-year-old girl's funeral was held. I'm going to close my eyes and listen to this and feel better. Please, please buy it! Harriet and I donated our royalties, so all the proceeds go to keep the Amabile family singing.

After Tuesday's scene, I thought we could leap ahead a few weeks to Michael agreeing to meet with the missionaries, but every time I tried to imagine it, my mind got fuzzy. Cold medicine? Congestion? Or not the right scene?

I stonewalled yesterday and couldn't write anything. This morning as I pondered what I should write instead, I saw Michael driving home from his day with Leesie attacked by doubts. Ah-hah! No fuzzy head. Despite cold medicine and congestion that defies all concoctions, this next chapter flowed as fast as I could scribble and took Michael to a place I hadn't planned. A place I tried to skip.

I've been lying in bed too miserable to even read much, so I've watched hour after hour of coverage of the Tucson tragedy. The senseless massacre. The waste of precious lives. The heroism. The miracles. This week, I needed to be where this scene ends, and I'm grateful to Michael for taking me there. I hope it speaks to your hearts, too.

CHAPTER THIRTY

MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG – VOLUME 10

Dive Buddy: Leesie           

Date:  07/01

Dive #:

Location: Grand Cayman

Dive Site:

Weather Condition:

Water Condition:

Depth:  

Visibility: 

Water Temp: 

Bottom Time:  

Comments:

I was on a total high all day today. When Leesie and I picked up Aunty J, she beamed at me and swore her foot felt better already. Wound treatment in the hyperbaric chamber takes a series of one or two hour sessions over days—maybe weeks—so it was probably just the O2 high talking. She made me feel amazing, though.

Amazed. Astounded. That’s kind of how I’ve felt since last night. The high lasted all afternoon while Jaz telephoned all her friends from church with the good news and hit them up for rides to and from the hospital, and Leesie and I slowly forged ahead reading The Book of Mormon. We’d read, she’d explain, and I asked questions.

I got suspicious when she insisted on skipping a whole bunch of chapters.

“What’s in it?” Maybe that’s where they hide all the secret stuff about polygamy.

“Isaiah. Bible prophet. He wrote in code so the king wouldn’t off with his head. I get lost. Nephi explains what it means here.” She smoothed down the page.

I believed her then—every word. She was so intensely happy. I’m tempted to give a thumbs up to the missionaries just so I can watch her. I want to keep her happy. She hasn’t been like this for so long. I always knew this was a huge deal for her, but seeing how thrilled she is that I’ll finally admit there seems to be a divine power out there makes me wish I could have come to this sooner. I was grieving, angry. Stubborn. Proud. An idiot. Today, after everything we’ve been through, how could I not believe her?

But now as I drive through Georgetown at rush hour worrying that I won’t make it back to East End in time for the night dive I swapped my mornings dive for, cursing my own stupidity for not taking the northern route, I wonder what’s in those mysterious chapters. Maybe I’ll read them myself. No harm in at least looking at them.

How can I doubt Leesie now? Doubt those feelings that seem so real to me. I know—it’s stupid. I should. I love her. I know she wouldn’t lie to me. But how do I know the divine essence I felt are the Beings she describes? That’s a huge leap.

I’m working hard searching for that essence in the Book of Mormon. So far I’m touched and intrigued, but who is to say I won’t find the same essence in other holy books? Should I study those, too, and pray about them? Does the Book of Mormon being true make everything else false? Leesie believes in the Bible like other Christians, plus a bunch of stuff Joseph Smith wrote. Not stuff. Revelations.

If I were in love with a Budhist girl or a Catholic girl or a Jewish girl, would I have these feelings about her faith? Am I imagining everything to please Leesie? To keep her?

I used to think all religion was crap—crazy stuff used to enslave people. Isn’t that what most educated people really think? Whether they go to church or not? But if there is something real in the concept of God, is there something real in all religion? Is some lies? Some truth? How does he feel about all the evil stuff people have done—still do—in the name of religion? Is He down with crusades, burning witches, and suicide bombers?

I can’t comprehend the whole Jesus Christ dying for my sins thing. Leesie says no one does—you have to take it on faith. Feel it.

Faith. That’s another thing I don’t get.

I see it in Leesie. She’s got too much faith—in me.

I make it to East End with no time to spare for dinner. It’s okay. Leesie fed me and Jaz a giant lunch. I’ll live. I bolt down to the dock and start flinging tanks into the boat. I push myself into a frenzy so I can’t think up more doubts, more questions. I work so fast the boat is ready ten minutes before anybody’s going to show up.

I’m sweaty and hot, so I slip off my T-shirt and stand in the dock shower a minute. I close my eyes and try to recapture how I felt when Leesie and I prayed together before I left Aunty Jaz’s shack. She didn’t make me kneel down or do anything freaky. She just took my hand and bowed her head right there where we were sitting. “Bless Michael as he learns line upon line that he will come to know and Love Thee, Thy Son, and Thy gospel.”

Line upon line. Step by step. Standing on the lonely dock with my face turned up to the refreshing cool water, I try to address Him—Leesie’s God—not just a divine essence. “Dear Heavenly Father,” I whisper and can’t continue.

I’m engulfed in love.

Intimate.

Personal.

Overflowing.

A father’s love.

A brother’s love.

A love that feels like home.

Chapter 29 - continued--finally!

I crawled out of bed long enough to get this posted. I'm a pathetic baby when I'm sick, but today my cough was under control so I could write. Thanks for your patience. I'm sorry to make you wait for this so long. My next post will be Thursday.

This is the rest of Chapter 29. Chapter 30 will start with a Dive Log from Michael.

Thanks for hanging in there with me!

LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK

POEM # ??,

My kayak paddle digs

deep into the turquoise water.

I pull the blade through,

raise it, dig deep again

in rhythm with Michael

paddling behind me.

He’d burst into Jaz’s shack earlier,

bundled me and Aunty Jaz into his car

and sped to the big hospital near

my clinic. “Hurry, we’re late.”

Is the only clue he divulges.

By the time I manage

to get Jaz on her feet

he’s back with a wheelchair

and a beautiful nurse

with a clipboard and thick,

long, long back hair.

I’m frozen by that hair.

But Aunty Jaz pipes up,

“Dear boy, you’re mistaken

I don’t have an appointment.”

Michael ignores her, eases

her into the wheelchair

and races away.

I lock my hands behind

my back so I don’t touch

the inch and a half long

growth that covers my head

or pull a handful of the nurse’s

beautiful hair off her

innocent, unsuspecting head.

I follow through double doors,

down halls, around a corner,

notice a “Dive Medicine Clinic” sign,

worry that Michael’s bent again,

realize that makes no sense at all.

“Wait here.” He motions me to a

waiting area as he pushes Jaz

through more glass doors and

around a corner.

I sit on a yellow waiting room couch,

wait and wait until—there he is!

I barge through the glass doors.

“They are prepping her for the chamber.”

He’s totally lost me.

“Aunty Jaz isn’t bent.”

He grins big and takes my hands.

“Oxygen therapy. Great for wounds that won’t heal.”

I frown, worried. “She can’t afford this.”

He shrugs. “But I can.”

We’ve got two hours to ourselves.

He’s taken the whole day off.

So here we are paddling

out to his favorite free diving spot.

He stows his paddle to signal

our arrival. I tuck my paddle

alongside his. Instead of bailing

over the side, he opens his arms wide.

“Come here, babe.”

I maneuver into them,

snuggle my face

into his neck,

while his arms wrap me up tight.

He kisses his favorite spot

on my mangy skull and whispers,

“I think something answered.”

I bolt up—almost tip the kayak.

“You prayed!” My lips attack

in jubilation before he can answer.

He holds me off.

“Not fancy words like you—

I just asked.”

I have to kiss him one more time.

“That’s all you have to do.”

I sit back, so he can explain.

“I didn’t hear a voice

or anything or see stuff

in my head like you do,

but I had this feeling—”

He pauses, can’t speak for a moment.

He swallows and grips my hand.

“I, um, I—wasn’t alone.”

I hug him and cry.

His lips rest on my forehead,

and his arms squeeze me.

“Do you know what that means,

Leesie?” He gazes off into the distance.

“We’re not alone.”

Before I can answer, he props me

up, and holds me by the arms,

gives me a shake. “I woke up this

morning with this idea for

Aunty Jaz burgeoning in my brain.”

I smile, and try to say something,

but he gets there first.

“It grew and grew until

I picked up the phone and called

the chamber.”

My eyes fill up with joyful tears

to consecrate the moment.

He wipes them away.

“I love the way this feels.”

I touch his cheek. “Me, too.”

He takes my hand and

kisses my palm.

“Do you think this can happen

again or is it a one shot deal?”

I gather both of his hands in mine,

kneel on the kayak floor in front of him,

gaze forever into his eyes.

“Whenever you’re willing

to pay the price—it’s there.

You’ve felt it before.”

He nods. “What do you we now?”

I swallow and wipe my nose

with the back of my hand.

“We can call the missionaries.”

His forehead creases concern.

“I love reading with you.

Can we keep doing that?”

That makes me start crying again.

He holds me close—our lips meet,

but it’s more like our hearts

mesh than our mouths.

I rest my ear against his chest

try to hear if he beats a fresh rhythm

to match mine. My soul soars

with hope—the fuzzy outlines of

forever with Michael become

a detailed sketch, glowing and radiant.

“Did I tell you I love you today?”

He rolls over the kayak’s side

into the water, deftly bringing

me with him. “Not enough.”

Chapter 29 - A little detour

After yesterday's post, I wanted Michael to turn around and drive right back to Aunty Jaz's place and tell Leesie what happened. Or at least call her on the phone. But both of those options would squander any suspense or drama inherent in the situation. He just can't tell her that news on the phone. So, like I planned, here's a Leesie/Kim chat. You won't want to miss tomorrow's post.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 07/01 9:17 AM

Kimbo69 says:  Hey girl! You’re online for once.

Leesie327 says:  Why are you up so early?

Kimbo69 says:  Actually I’m up late. Mark’s off on a trip with his friends. I can’t sleep without him.

Leesie327 says: Michael leaves every night. I hate that.

Kimbo69 says: But good-bye’s can be sweet.

Leesie327 says: Amen to that. The way he kissed me good night last night was beautiful—like a prayer.

Kimbo69 says: That’s definitely not how Mark and I said good-bye.

Leesie327 says: I’ll take what I can get.

Kimbo69 says: What are you guys doing for the 4^th of July this weekend?

Leesie327 says: I don’t know. Michael will have to work, but maybe there will be fireworks somewhere we can watch that night.

Kimbo69 says: Mark will be back. We’ll have our own fireworks.

Leesie327 says: Are you done rubbing it in?

Kimbo69 says: Why is Michael always working? Isn’t he loaded?

Leesie327 says: He wants to learn so when he starts his own dive operations he doesn’t lose all his money.

Kimbo69 says: And he’s diving. That’s not really work.

Leesie327 says: He loves it—but it’s hard work.

Kimbo69 says: It’s not all that fair. He dives all day with beautiful girls, and you sit around with a sick old woman.

Leesie327 says: I don’t sit around. I’m totally busy.

Kimbo69 says: Are you happy—like he is?

Leesie327 says: I’m all over the place. Happy one minute—fighting tears the next. My mom says that’s normal.

Kimbo69 says: I’m glad you’ve got your mom to talk to again.

Leesie327 says: She makes more sense than I ever gave her credit for.

Kimbo69 says: What big plans have you got for today?

Leesie327 says: I did a massive hatchet job on some bushes. I got to clean up the mess.

Kimbo69 says: Sounds like a blast.

Leesie327 says: Good exercise.

Kimbo69 says: When is Michael coming over?

Leesie327 says: Late. He’s got another long day.

Kimbo69 says: Is it gross—changing diapers?

Leesie327 says: What are you talking about?

Kimbo69 says: The old lady!

Leesie327 says: She doesn’t wear diapers.

Kimbo69 says: That’s a relief.

Leesie327 says: I help her in the bathroom and get her dressed. Make sure she eats. Test her blood. Give her meds.

Kimbo69 says: Shots?

Leesie327 says: She jabs herself.

Kimbo69 says: Is she getting better?

Leesie327 says: Her foot looks worse to me. I’m worried it’ll get infected again.

Kimbo69 says: You have to take care of that?

Leesie327 says: Yeah. When the nurses don’t come.

Kimbo69 says: Gross. I’d vomit.

Leesie327 says: I almost lost it yesterday.

Kimbo69 says: I couldn’t do it.

Leesie327 says: You could. You can do anything you really want to.

Kimbo69 says: That’s what you think.

Leesie327 says: Hey Kim—I gotta go—Michael just walked in.

Kimbo69 says: Is something wrong?

Leesie327 says: I don’t know.

Kimbo69 says: You can’t just leave me like this!

Leesie327 says: Bye.

Chapter 28 - Michael

Another great discussion yesterday. I look forward to your comments on this. I think this will stand by itself as a chapter. I can't believe we've passed 45K words. It seems like we've still got a long way to go, but we are getting closer and closer to the final epilogue.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG – VOLUME 10

Dive Buddy: Leesie           

Date:  06/30

Dive #:

Location: Grand Cayman

Dive Site:

Weather Condition:

Water Condition:

Depth:  

Visibility: 

Water Temp: 

Bottom Time:  

Comments:

            Long day. I teach pool and classroom sessions in the morning, and I’m out on the boat with the students all afternoon. I’m stuck filling bottles and fixing a reg after that while everyone else disappears.

            I don’t make it to Aunty Jaz’s until after 9 PM. Leesie’s got the front outdoor lights blazing—she’s still clipping. She meets me at my car door. She’s all over me before I can even get all the way out. Doesn’t seem to care that she’s sweaty tonight. Not that I’m complaining.

            I get my lips free for a minute, wipe a streak of dirt from her cheek. “Hey—this is sweet. What gives?”

            “I waited and waited.” Her arms are scratched up from her long struggle with stubborn bougainvillea vines. “I thought maybe I’d come on too strong yesterday, and you’d flown off somewhere.”

            “Why didn’t you call?”

            “I did. You didn’t pick up.”

            “Sorry, babe. No cell service out on the ocean.” We move off the dark sidewalk under the bright pool of light where she worked. “Looks like you took it out on the bougainvillea.” The vines are butchered.

            Her legs are scratched up, too. “Did I mess it up?”

            My eyes move from the branches littering the yard to her face, and I know she’s not talking about gardening. “No. No. You helped a lot.” I bend down and kiss her.

            She’s trembling. “I thought I’d scared you off for good.” She buries her face in my chest.

            I hold her, stroke her head. She could tell me she believes in holy flying penguins, and I’d be back. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, and look—” I hold up the Book of Mormon I’d shoved in the back of my jeans when Leesie attacked me. “Can you read with me? It’s hard by myself.”

            She raises her head from hiding and takes the book. “Do you have more questions?”

            I nod.

            I get one more kiss, and she pulls me around the back to the screened porch. She already put Aunty Jaz to bed.

            We sit, side by side, on the couch, knees, arms, ankles touching. She reads, stops, explains—paints the sacred stories of her childhood. She’s beautiful in her element.

            I listen and love her.

            We get to the part where the father dies. The mean brothers want to kill Nephi. Leesie gets emotional. “Droop in sin,” she reads. “That’s what I did. I’d still be stuck there, miserable, if you hadn’t forced me into President Bodden’s office.” She sniffs and strokes the open page on her lap.

            I put my arm around her. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

            “You don’t think that was inspiration?”

            I lean my cheek on her head. “More like desperation.”

            She keeps reading. “I will not put my trust in the arm of flesh.” She chokes up—makes me continue.

            I finish the chapter—it’s just a few more verses. It’s beautiful. I hold Leesie, and we share an intense moment born of all we’ve been through together—my grief, hers, our ups and downs, the love that battled its way through it all. If anything is divine—that is. The love we share is truly holy.

            It’s midnight when I tenderly find Leesie’s lips and whisper good night.

            As I drive back to the East End, I remember the feeling I had back in the temple garden in Hong Kong and the tunnel with all those BYU kids singing hymns. The power that stopped me from going into Leesie’s room that first awful night we spent in Cayman wasn’t my mom. I didn’t sense her in Hong Kong and in the tunnel like I did the other times she helped me. But something was. Something real. Something like I felt with Leesie tonight.

            I pull the car off the road when I get to the blow holes. I wander out on the coral rocks—close enough to the waves forcing themselves up through the coral tubes to feel the fine mist on my face—and stare out at the night ocean.

            The sky overhead is heavy with stars.

            I owe this to Leesie. At least once.

            “Is it—I mean—are You—real?”

            The ocean surges, seethes. An unusually large wave hits hard enough to drench me with spray.

            I wipe my face and whisper, “Is that a yes?”

            I have to admit there is a power in the night beyond me, beyond the ocean, beyond the sky, beyond the stars.

            Something is out there.

            Something big.

            Something real.

            Something I can no longer deny.

Chapter 27 - Leesie's Poem to finish

Great discussion yesterday. Today's poem from Leesie is dedicated to all of you who commented. I'm sure this is exactly who she'd be feeling inside. Total panic! This finishes Chapter 27. We hear from Michael again tomorrow. I've got to figure out a good place to add a Leesie/Kim chat. Not here. Not yet. I want you to experience what Michael and Leesie are going through first hand.

CHAPTER 27 - Part 2

LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK

POEM #??,

I blew it.

I blew it.

I’m sure that I blew it.

Too much, too fast,

too little, too slow.

I bungled it all

in a mixed up jumble.

He thinks it’s crazy.

I wish he’d let me

call in the elders.

They could stop by

tomorrow to help

with the yard.

Service Project.

He’d see through that

and never speak to me

again.

Maybe he already won’t speak

to me again. Did I really bring up

Heavenly intimacy? 

I pull my hide-a-bed out of the couch,

hit my knees beside it,

weary the Lord with my whining.

“He says he wants me to teach him

like he taught me,

but, but, but—”

You can do this.

“I can? I’m not a missionary.

I don’t know what I’m supposed

to teach him first or second.

What if I get something wrong?”

Just open your mouth.

“Really?”

A glorious, hopeful peace

blooms from my heart

and wafts warmth

to the panicked

doubt in my brain.

I crawl into bed,

curl under the sheet,

kick it off—get up,

readjust the fan,

sit on the edge

of my flimsy mattress,

staring at the black room

and chant,

“I think I can.

I think I can.

I can.

I can.

I can.”           

            

New Year, New Chapter - 27

I hope you all had a happy and safe New Year. Thanks for all your good wishes and encouragement. Thanks, too, all of you who voted for SING ME TO SLEEP on Goodreads. It's was cool and exciting to be nominated, but now it's a relief to have the voting over. All last month I felt like there was someone else I should be contacting. Winners will be announced in January's newsletter. I'll let you know if I get any exciting news. 


Here' the dive log I promised. I might have to cut some of this. I don't want to get too preachy or deeper into doctrine than I need to for the story's sake. But Michael would have questions. Lots of them. At this point, I'm simply writing what comes. If I overwrite, I'll cut back when I revise. As always, I'd love to get your feedback. 


More tomorrow. Enjoy!

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG – VOLUME 10

Dive Buddy: Leesie           

Date:  06/29

Dive #:

Location: Grand Cayman

Dive Site:

Weather Condition:

Water Condition:

Depth:  

Visibility: 

Water Temp: 

Bottom Time:  

Comments:

            As I drive home from Aunty’ Jaz’s and all the next day while I’m diving, I keep thinking about what Leesie told me. To become a Mormon I have to believe in Jesus Christ. Not just that he was a great man who taught stuff that changed the world—for good or ill—depending on your point of view. I have to believe He’s God’s son—a God himself—my brother. And He came to save me. From what I’m not sure. I need to ask Leesie.

            Leesie says God and Jesus aren’t some indescribable divine force. Joseph Smith saw them. They have physical bodies. What about the Holy Spirit? How does He fit in?

            And there’s this huge hole in Leesie’s logic. If God is literally the father of our spirits, don’t we need a mother up there, too? Is that supposed to be Mary? But how could she be Jesus’s mother on earth while she was being a mother in heaven.

            I only have to work the morning. After I unload the dive boat, I grab a sandwich and head out. When I get to Aunty Jaz’s, Leesie’s in the front clipping the giant bougainvilleas that overwhelm the shack.

            “Ouch.” She yells and drops the clippers. “Did you know these things have thorns?” She shoves her thumb in her mouth. 

            “Yeah. You need gloves.”

            She kicks at the clippers. “And better clippers.”

            “Want me to help?” I look at the mess she’s making. “We used to have these in Phoenix.”

            “I don’t know.” She takes a few steps back and surveys her progress. “It seems hopeless.”

            I slide my arm around her waist. “We can do it together.” I kiss her, and she squirms.

            “Gross. I’m all sweaty.”

            I kiss her again. “I like sweaty.”

            She claps her hands over her ears and starts humming a tune that sounds like something they sang in church Sunday.

            I laugh and release her. “I’ve got some questions for you.”

            “Really?” She slaps at a mosquito on my arm. “We need more bug spray, too.”

            Leesie washes up quick while I take cover from the mosquitoes with Aunty Jaz on the screened porch.

            “That girl just doesn’t stop—does she?”

            I sit beside Aunty Jaz. “Not when she gets her mind set on something.”

            Aunty Jaz looks back to make sure Leesie’s still inside, leans over and whispers, “She’s been busy at that computer late at night and early in the morning. She won’t read any of it to me, though.”

            “Me, neither.” It’s good to hear she’s working on her poetry, though. She’s progressing faster than I expected.

            “How are you doing with that Book of Mormon?”

            I lower my voice. “I kind of got stuck. Leesie’s helping me. Is that allowed?”

            Aunty Jaz’s face splits wide with a smile. “Of course. So that’s why she gave me that big kiss last night.”

            I give her a big kiss on the cheek, too.

            Leesie catches us. “Are you trying to steal my fiancé?”

            Aunty Jaz slaps my back. “I’ve turned his head, sweetie. I have that affect on men.”

            Leesie takes my hands and pulls me to my feet. “Mind if I try to win him back?”

            “You can try.” She winks at me.

            Leesie winds her fingers through mine. “We’ll be back in a couple hours. You’ll be okay?”

            “My nurse arrives shortly.”

            “We can stay until she comes.”

            Aunty Jaz shoos us with both hands. “Get along.”

            As soon as we’re on the road driving towards Georgetown, Leesie bites her lower lip and folds her hands in her lap. “You have questions?”

            “Yeah.” I swallow. My thoughts are in a jumble. “First, how does the Holy—”

            “—Ghost?”

            “—fit in?”

            “He’s the third member of the Godhead.”

            “With God and Jesus?” I glance over at her. She nods. I look back at the road. “Why do you call him a ghost? That’s weird.”

            “He doesn’t have a physical body like Jesus and Heavenly Father so he can communicate with our spirits.”

            “Okay. Whatever. You know, this whole Heavenly Father thing has a big problem. Who’s the mother?”

            “We don’t know.”

            “You think God had all these children by himself? Think about it, babe. That makes no sense. Is it Mary?”

            “No. She’s Jesus earthly mother.”

            “And Joseph’s his father—so how is he different than everyone else?”

            “Check you Bible stories, hon. Joseph wasn’t his father. Mary was a virgin, remember?”

            Not really. Never read the stuff. “So it was like magic?”

            “You read the scriptures about it yesterday. The spirit overshadowed Mary and then she was pregnant. Mary says ‘great things’ were done to her.”

            “You’re saying she slept with God?”

            “I’m saying we don’t know the details. But she’s called a handmaid of the Lord. In the Old Testament handmaids bore children for Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. They became wives.”

            “Wives?” I frown, confused. “You think God’s a polygamist? I have to believe that?”

            “No. I’m guessing here. God made the rules. His relationship with Mary wasn’t based on sin. All you have to believe is Jesus was His son.”

            “Not a fast-talking Jewish girl’s ba—”

            “Don’t say that.” She grabs my arm. “It hurts.” She presses her hand to her heart.

            “I’m sorry.” We drive in silence a couple miles. We reach the outskirts of Georgetown and traffic slows up. We get stopped at a red light. I turn to her. “You believe all this stuff—literally?”

            “Yes.” She meets my searching gaze. “We do believe in a Mother in Heaven, but she’s not Mary.”

            I shake my head. “I’ve never heard you pray to her.”

            “No. We pray to the Father in the Son’s name.”

            “What does that mean?”

            “Jesus takes our prayers to the Father and pleads for us.”

            “And what does the mother do?”

            “We don’t know for sure. I think she’s there, part of everything—sharing like parents do.”

            “Are you making this up? You’ve never mentioned her before.”

            Leesie’s voice takes on an intense tone. “It’s very sacred doctrine.”

            “So we were one big happy God family?” Sounds more like sci-fi than religion.

            “In heaven? Before we came to earth? Very big. Mostly happy.”

            I lean back and shake my head. “How could perfect, all-powerful God-parents make their children live in such a horrible place? Suffer like—” Me. And her.

            “We chose to come here. Fought for the privilege.”

            “Fought? Who?”

            “Our other brother.”

            We’re at the store, so the question I have about that gets lost in buying mega-clippers, two pairs of thick gloves, six different types of mosquito killer, and a giant bag of potato chips.

Leesie naps on the drive back to Aunty’s Jaz’s, so we don’t get back to our private discussion until late that night when Leesie kisses me goodnight. “Did I freak you earlier today with the Heavenly Mother stuff?”

            “Nope.” I smooth my hand over her furry head. “It’s no stranger than everything else.”

            “It’s why the temple is so important.” She can see I’m not following. “The family is a divine entity. The heart of everything in heaven and earth.”

            “So you need to stick them together?” I stroke her cheek.

            “Seal them.” She presses her lips into my palm.

            I hug her close. “Why isn’t it automatic?” It should be. People who love each other should be together forever if they want to be.

            “Nothing’s automatic.” She leans her face onto my hand. “God’s too good of a teacher to go for that.”

            “He’s God.” I crouch down so we’re eye to eye. “He could cut us some slack.”

            “If this is a test”—she touches her nose to mine—“he’s got to make it hard enough for us to grow.” She kisses me and retreats to the doorway. “Have you prayed?”

            I shake my head.

            She blows me a kiss. “Try.”

Chapter 26 - Part 3 - The rest of Leesie's poem

Here's the rest of Leesie's poem to finish off Chapter 26. I'm working on a dive log to post  Monday. I hope you all have a Happy, Happy New Year!! 

Thank you for cheering me on through a tough 2010. It's been a hard year for lots of people. I watch what is going on around me and feel so blessed. Sometimes I think I should relax and enjoy my great kids and wonderful husband. 

If I didn't write, my life would be so easy. I'd be bored and grumpy and miss all of you, but I wouldn't be banging my head against the wall, either. The marketing and self-promotion aspect of being an author stresses me out. And I don't want to even think about dealing with publishers. 

But who am I kidding? The challenge of creating fiction is something I can't live without. I've had amazing mentors, wonderful friends, and a editor who believed in my art enough to publish it--huge blessings. At the end of my sixth year post-MFA, I am incredibly grateful for all the opportunities that have come. I've learned so much, and I'm still learning.

I am most grateful for all of you. 

Before you get published and people actually read your work, it's hard to even imagine how you feel about every person who picks up your book and loves it. It's like trying to explain to someone who isn't a parent the overwhelming sensations that engulf you when a child is born. You've touched my heart deeply, and I can honestly say I love you all. Thank you for letting me into your lives and joining yours to mine.  When I look back on 2010, I'm not going to remember the rejection and frustration. Or even the relentless PR. I'm going to remember you.

So, no easy life for me. Not in 2011, 2012, or ever. I've got stories to tell!

Here's the rest of the poem we started yesterday. Now I need to go take down the Christmas tree.

Leesie's Poem (cont.)

After dinner at Aunty Jaz’s

while she snores on the couch

with her bandaged foot propped

on a tower of pillows balanced

on a wispy coffee table,

Michael sits beside me

on the step that leads to

a kitchen full of dirty dishes

that I need to wash.

I lean into him and inhale

his presence.

His lips rest on the top of my head

for a moment and then

he carefully places an open

Book of Mormon in my lap.

“I don’t get this part,” he whispers.

“Can you help me?”

I sit up so I can study his face.

My eyes find his and hold them.

“You’re reading this?”

Tears threaten and a lump

in my throat chokes off my words.

He did this on his own? all alone?

Without me?

I sniff and pull a ragged tissue from my pocket.

He kisses my forehead. “Aunty Jaz told me

about that test at the end.”

I try to stay calm, match his nonchalance,

focus on the page open in my lap—

Lehi’s dream? My fingers smooth

over the page as my heart

beats loud enough for him to hear it.

“What do you think so far?”

“I don’t know I just started.”

His arms go around me.

“More action than I expected.

I thought holy guys were wimps.”

I snuggle into his embrace. “Not Nephi.”

“Yeah.” He raises a hand to his neck.

“That dude’s dangerous.”

“We don’t chop off heads at midnight.”

He laughs and stretches his legs out.

“Do you think I’m Laman or Lemuel?”

“The bad boys?” I frown at him. “No way.”

“Who then?”

“Sam?”

“No.”

 I hunch over thinking, with elbows

on my knees and my chin in my palms.

“I know”—I sit up and twist to face him—

“You’re Zoram.” He looks puzzled.

I flick the pages back, searching.

“The guy they capture and force

to come along. Here.” I point to the verse.

He reads and shakes his head. “That’s what

I thought. Join us or die.”

I lean close and press my lips to his.

“That’s not your choice.”

He holds my face against his.

“Join us or lose you.”

I kiss him again.

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Even if,” he murmurs across

my mouth, “this test is a flop?”

I bow my head onto his shoulder.

“Have you prayed yet?”

“I’m on page fourteen.”

I look up. “So?”

“Don’t I have to finish

the whole thing first?”

I take his face between by hands

“Pray ever time you open the book.”

He leans forward and kisses me.

“Like now?”

We kiss again. “Uh-huh.”

He sits up, serious now.

“Can you do it?”

“No.” I push his hair out of his face.

His eyes move away from mine.

“You know I don’t believe

I’m talking to anybody?”

I take his hands and whisper,

“Then what will it hurt?”

He bows his head, closes his eyes.

“Dear Leesie’s God-guy,

Can you get her to explain

this dream bit to me? Amen.”

I squeeze his hands.

“I could call the elders. The guys

at the branch are nice.”

“Nope.” He lifts my hands to his lips.

“This is just between you and me.”

“And my God-guy.”

We sit side by side and bend

our heads over the verses.

“Lehi’s boys couldn’t figure the dream

out, either. The naughty ones sat around

and complained. Nephi prayed and look”—

Michael’s eyes follow as my fingers turn the pages—

“the Lord answered.”

He picks up the book and reads.

“This is talking all about Jesus.

He wasn’t in the dream.”

“The Tree of Life is God’s love.”

I point to the verse.

“Nephi received a vision of Christ

because His mission to earth

is the greatest manifestation

of the Father’s love for us.”

“But aren’t they the same guy?

I know that much from Gram’s church.”

“No.” I flip to a picture of the first vision.

“Father and Son—just like you

and your dad—with bodies like

ours, but perfected—Eternal.

Glorified.”

He strokes my cheek.

“And you’re His daughter?”

I kiss his fingers.

“And you’re His son.”

“Like Pres. Bodden’s blessing?”

“You remember that?”

He meets my eyes with intensity.

“I can’t forget it.”

I put my arms around him and draw

him close. “Thank you—for trying my world.”

I kiss him with all the love in my heart.

He hangs onto me. “Don’t let go or I’ll panic.”

“Don’t worry.” I squeeze him. “I’ve got you.”

He rests his forehead on mine.

“What if you’re God doesn’t speak to me?”

I shake my head in wonder that he

does see what’s so clear.

“He already has or we wouldn’t be here.”

Michael draws away. “That’s my mom.”

I pull him back close.

“She’s on His side.”