Entries by Melissa Durkovich Lawson (367)

Wednesday
Sep022015

Summer's End

  

I.

perfection is

apron and aches

stirring boiling blackberries

baby underfoot spouting jibberish

teen texting from class

as a summer storm

blows in

 

II.

separating two halves

reveals nature’s Velcro

the peach pit

 

III.

panting all day

while shadows switch direction

finally it is

time for our walk

stroller

leash

each other

loud state street

quiet steps

past busy exhaling dryer vents

 

 

Yep, took that photo on my iphone. Best camera I ever had.

Tuesday
Aug252015

Wilderness

I think the word wilderness conjures up different images for different people. Crunchy pacific northwesterners probably think of pristine pines, isolated lakes, and Chacos. Desert dwellers may think of canyons, red arches, and Slickrock. Folks out east may be lost in Appalachia with dimly lit lanterns and faded maps. Southerners imagine swamps, gators, and Medusa from The Rescuers. When I hear wilderness I think of two things:

  1. Standing barefoot and clueless in a seed tick nest at Cuivre River State Park without a sneaker large enough to hold my foot the next day. (true story)
  2. The Judean Wilderness. (see photo)

Wilderness is far from cozy, comfy home. Wilderness is somewhere you ended up lost and lonely by accident. Wilderness is no Eden.

In the 12 years I waited for Archer life slowly cut and pasted a découpage of beautiful lessons in my mind and heart. It has been a painstaking and exhausting catharsis to pick them apart layer by layer with tweezers and an x-acto knife; needing to sort, translate, and write down the meaning of each delicately fused piece. I have two glittered and gluey remnants left. One of them, a picture of a dry wasteland, stands for:

GRACE IN THE WILDERNESS.

Remixed: NOW CAN ALWAYS BE BEAUTIFUL.

When the new booklet of Bible photos came out years ago I perused it in my studies and always came back to Photo No. 3: The Judean Wilderness. I’ve seen footage of Israel on my Truman Madsen Holy Land documentary as well as the Thanksgiving Point 3-D movie Jerusalem. (The day I saw Jerusalem was also my first time to eat Waffle Love. Good day date, Greg, even if you slept through the movie.) Israel is lovely; fields of poppies, groves, places by the sea. The Judean Wilderness is not lovely. It is a huge expanse of badlands and there isn’t one fleck of green in the miles and miles the photo shows. I would never choose the Judean Wilderness as a destination. Not even if it had a penny smasher.

Probably somewhere around seven years into the baby waiting I realized I was in the Judean Wilderness. I figured it out because every time I looked at facebook people were posting pictures of Hawaii or announcing they were going to Hawaii in a few months. Every time I went to the store I saw Hawaii in a car seat. Every time I ate out with Greg Hawaii was crying at the table next to us. Lush, tropical, Skittle-colored Hawaii with its pineapples and soft sand. I hated my bleak, barren vacation and didn’t know what I did to deserve a timeshare there. Even my sea was Dead. I pulled out my booklet and glowered at the photo.

After I glowered (let’s face it, you can’t glower that long…nobody’s eyebrow muscles are that strong) I re-read the caption:

JUDEAN WILDERNESS AND THE DEAD SEA The Savior went to the wilderness to commune with his Father.

The Savior fasted 40 days and nights in the harsh wilderness of his choosing. Satan tagged along. It appears he had nothing of comfort except for his father, The Great God of Heaven.

People emphatically declare I’D NEVER TRADE MY TRIAL AWAY. They say this because although trials stink the periphery is perfumed. I know at year seven there was technically nothing growing in my Judean Wilderness but once I found new closeness with Father it began to smell of orange blossoms and cinnamon rolls and mirepoix sizzling in a hot pan. It was bearable, or as Sheena Parker put it, “There were still tears, but they were different tears.”

A few years later, while reading the Book of Mormon in the temple (bless the long lines, bless them) I read a verse* with my two buzzwords:

And we did follow the directions of the ball, which led us in the more fertile parts of the wilderness.

Because my GPS hadn’t moved with the passing of time (my static balloon marker showed latitude INFERTILE longitude WILDERNESS) it was news to me fertile parts existed in the wilderness. After all, my own eyes had beheld basic beige for a decade.

The ball spoken of in scripture was the liahona, a compass-like device which only gave directions if the participants were giving heed and diligence to the commandments in faith. With increased devotion I chose the right believing it would lead me to some green somewhere. My best efforts, combined with talking to and relying on Father more, is what opened the door to let grace flood in. I stopped seeing mirages and began oasis-hopping. Suddenly there was shade, temporary quench to my thirst, even a bit of fruit. A new dusty stretch always lined my path but it never took long to reach sanctuary.

After years of orienteering my exile I discovered wilderness was lonely, dead, and ugly only if I wanted it to be. God is in the wilderness and through the merits of His Son grace abounds there as well. There is no problem where Christ isn’t the answer.

Of note is the Good Samaritan. He helped the man beaten and robbed on the highway connecting Jerusalem to Jericho. Guess where that road cuts through? The Judean Wilderness. I think this geographic tidbit is the Lord’s reminder someone always has it worse than we do. Helping a soul in need despite our icky life location is truly heroic. Being a victim of wilderness does not excuse one from looking outward.

Gerard M. Hopkins' poem sums it up best:

What would the world be,

once bereft of wet and wildness?

Let them be left.

O let them be left,

wildness and wet;

Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.

 

 

Photo lyric: Bono, from "Grace", Photo courtesy of lds.org

*1 Nephi 16:16

The parable of the Good Samaritan is found in Luke 10:25-37. I have to wonder if Jesus came up with it during his 40 days in the wilderness.

The part of the definition of GRACE in the Bible Dictionary I really love:

The main idea of the word is divine means of help or strength, given through the bounteous mercy and love of Jesus Christ. It is through the grace of the Lord that individuals, through faith in the Atonement of Jesus Christ and repentance of their sins, receive strength and assistance to do good works that they otherwise would not be able to maintain if left to their own means. This grace is an enabling power that allows men and women to lay hold on eternal life and exaltation after they have expended their own best efforts.

This is the page from my booklet. It makes it look a lot uglier. Sky and clouds really dress a wilderness up. 

I will make the wilderness a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water. -Isaiah 41:18

Friday
Aug142015

Stretch

Sometimes I want to crawl under a rock. I want to be so deep and dark in my own world I can't hear impressions about things to do for others. I can scarcely manage myself and my little family; extending to others seems a conflict of interest. I think these horrible thoughts despite the awareness and gratitude I feel for the many who reach out to me. I often feel foolish and embarrassed as a lone giraffe outstretched, as if my recipients are silently thinking my life is not your problem or get out of my business.

I feel like I am forever being tested; I just want to be alone but I'm aware the Lord gave me a very elastic shadow (it's one of my spiritual gifts). I don't want to lose my gift but I feel like I've been scaring a lot of unsuspecting cherries lately. If I'm being perfectly honest I'll admit my recent reaching has made me feel lonely. Which is probably why I want to crawl under a rock and stop being who I'm meant to be. I'm willfully neglecting cherries at this point. Cherries are the pits. No quiero cherries!

Naturally, blurbs and snippets about the importance of reaching started falling from the sky the minute I became a cherry rejecter. Freshly humbled, yet slightly askew, this knobby-kneed giraffe still hopes to be a valuable cherry-picking instrument in the Lord's hands.

Three Quotes About Reaching/Stretching: 

1] When I was a ward Relief Society president, my stake Relief Society president, Sister Ann Nicholls Madsen, challenged us to pray specifically, Lord, who needs me today? What is her name? I found that a rather frightening challenge. Frightening because it required me to commit, to listen, and to be available-and frightening because it worked. On the days I dared to say that prayer I did receive a name in the most miraculous ways. More than once I was led to the doorstep of a sister who needed someone at just that moment, whether in the anguish of watching her dying husband or just in need of a word of cheer. I rejoice in the memory of those miracles.

2] Reaching out to others is the best way to show your will is God's.

3] Just when all seems to be going right, challenges often come in multiple doses applied simultaneously. When those trials are not consequences of your disobedience, they are evidence that the Lord feels you are prepared to grow more. He therefore gives you experiences that stimulate growth, understanding, and compassion which polish you for your everlasting benefit. To get you from where you are to where He wants you to be requires a lot of stretching, and that generally entails discomfort and pain.

 

Quote references:

1) Elaine Marshall, "A Pattern For a Joyful Life" (I'm still too chicken to do it daily but the days I have asked have all come with clear answers...hence why I'm chicken. Selfish chicken.) 

2) Russell T. Osguthorpe (Russell Osguthorpe is the former general president of the Sunday School of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I specify because the Doctor of Infectious Diseases who diagnosed RE's freak illness in January has the same name. That guy is a saint in my book.)

3) Elder Richard G. Scott, "Trust in the Lord", Ensign, November 1995. (The talk he gave six months after his beloved wife passed from cancer.)

Tuesday
Aug112015

All Discount Service

These have been on my mind. Archer's 47 formula scoops. Now that he's one we are done with formula. When my milk dried up at six weeks and I cried my eyes out at having to keep my miracle baby alive with stinky science juice it seemed like buying expensive formula would never end. Now it's here and of course it was worth it. No more Enfamil baby blue duckling canister scraping the paint off the windowsill by the sink due to overuse, no more bottle brush, no more scoops to save. I don't know why I saved them all. Maybe because I wanted to prove to Archer how much I loved him; how much he cost.

Greg (who is usually not sentimental unless it's, say, the day the Broncos lose the Super Bowl) saved the duck canister and put all the scoops in it. Plus a Ziploc bag full of more scoops. I'm determined to do something with the scoops. If I can't figure out some crafty-crafterson thing to use them for Archer has the tools to bake 47 mini mud pies in a few years.

Other than not having to buy him clothes until he turned one (because sooooo many people sent baby gifts) that kid has cost a fortune. He better be good to me.

So the formula was a recent memory when someone called to borrow my sewing machine a few days ago. She returned it the same day I had a massage. I had to remove my machine from the travel case to put it back in my sewing cabinet. Hanging on the handle of the case was the repair tag from the last time I had it tuned up. I love old school carbon paper and printed ephemera so I untied the tag for safe keeping.

I love this tag because:

1) It's from my father-in-law's shop ALL DISCOUNT VAC & SEW in Colorado Springs. I love Herb. He's a one-of-a-kind diehard family man who proves he loves his kids with deeds, not words.

2) You can see they wrote "Melissa Larson" and corrected it to "Melissa Lawson." Story of my married life, although no one could spell "Durkovich" right, either.

3) There was no charge. Freeloader? Yes. But isn't that the perk of having a father-in-law with a sewing store?

Perhaps because I was getting a massage and perhaps because my neck was so tight from the hotel bed and couch and drive from Boise I read the rest of the tag in a different light.

SERVICE TENSION/MAKE IT PERFECT

Oh man, I hope Ruth can work out my neck tension and get me back to perfect. Oh man, I wish my massages were free like my sewing machine tune-up was.

Can you imagine being fixed for free? Made perfect for free?

And then I instantly thought of the Savior and His Atonement which allows me to do just that. And I understood while it technically didn't cost me anything there was still a hefty price paid. And I kind of smiled in my laundry room with my sore neck and felt warm and fuzzy for a moment while I ripped off the claim check stub. I flipped it over:

Seriously? How much more holy could this repair ticket get?

The sale is over (Gethsemane and Calvary) and my service (obedience) is what Christ is counting. He paid a fortune for me. I better be good to Him.

"And behold, this is the whole meaning of the law, every whit pointing to that great and last sacrifice; and that great and last sacrifice will be the Son of God, yea, infinite and eternal." -Alma 34:14

All things really do point to Christ; from formula scoops to ticket stubs.

 

*I will never forget the valuable advice Kenon gave me when my milk was drying up and I was a few breast pump hours away from insanity. "You are going to miss the joy of this baby by stressing over milk. Buy some formula and start living the good life." Formula ended up being awesome, convenient, and super delicious according to Archer. My mom, who was basically the president of La Leche League in the 70s, showed her newfound support for formula by calling me every time she heard something positive about it. It was endearing to say the least. And my unused nursing pads got stuffed in my armpits on Sundays I had to teach, conduct, or play...so nothing went to waste. It always works out!

Thursday
Aug062015

Melissa Interviews Herself

MDL: Hi. It's nice to meet you. You look like Betsy Brandt.

Me: Stop it, you know that isn't true. Only the guy at T-Mobile and the stereo kid at Best Buy have ever said that and you had to google her. You look like a grumpier version of Helen Hunt.

MDL: Thank you. Are you going to answer my questions?

Me: Yes.

MDL: Then simmer down.

Me: Sorry.

MDL: Why haven't you written much lately?

Me: I want to. I have starts for 37 essays but no time to finish. Summer is busy and hot and loud. Plus I have a teenager with a social life and a 1-year old that never stops moving unless it's to dump out canisters of stuff in the pantry. Tonight at dinner I told Greg and RE I couldn't go to the party at the Scera pool because my see through is swimsuit. So you see I can't even talk straight, much less write straight. Despite green smoothies and vitamin overload I am tired all the time.

MDL: How many vitamins do you take?

Me: About 14 a day. Two for cell longevity and heart health, six collagen, two biotin cocktails for hair-skin-nails, two multis, vitamin D, and iron.

MDL: And they aren't working?

Me: I don't know. I still feel tired all the time. Plus I want eclairs more than ever.

MDL: That sounds like hormones.

Me: Don't go there.

MDL: Meow. Somebody is feisty. Are you a professional writer?

Me: No. I'm a graphic designer who graduated before the Internet was widely used. I'm a lover of visual beauty but I try to cut the universe some slack when I cross ill-kerned business signs, unreadable billboards, or logos with drop shadows. We all make mistakes.

MDL: You make a lot of mistakes in your writing.

Me: Don't I know it. I love to write but worry about the English Majors, English Teachers, Grammar Snobs, and Punctuation Police. I'm pretty sure my participles dangle and I still don't know where I stand with the Oxford comma. I say "that" too much and my sentences run marathons. And I start sentences with "and." Hey, I'm just trying to keep a record of important feelings and experiences I've had for my kids. I want my kids to know who I really was and what I believed in; first and foremost being my belief in God our Heavenly Father, His Son Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost. The second thing I want them to know is miracles happen every day everywhere.

MDL: I can accept that. I want the same thing.

Me: So we are in agreeance?

MDL: You don't have to get all lawyer-sounding. Yes, I agree with you. So how are you doing with your three goals? To get healthy, to write, and to make Archer's stocking by Christmas?

Me: Glass half full.

MDL: Illustrate.

Me: I've consistently lifted weights for two months but have failed to do any cardio. My tricep is beginning to poke out and I'm getting a little stronger so obviously I'm elated. I'm still not going to bed earlier or getting up earlier but I am a steady journal writer and I drink plenty of water. I've written a little but haven't started the stocking. I usually start Christmas stuff in August because December sneaks up on an overachiever and gives her heart murmurs by Black Friday. I will start the stocking this month.

MDL: It's a start. You'll get there. Stay positive.

Me: You sound like Greg.

MDL: I should. I live with him.

Me: Do you know where I can find a vintage straw dispenser? I want one to hold my pens and pencils. Way better than a pencil cup.

MDL: I do not. Check Etsy or Nook & Cranny.

Me: Thanks. I will. I'll add that to one of my lists.

MDL: I hear you are the new chorister in the chapel on Sundays. How is it?

Me: Prickle-sweat meets awkward but I'm determined to magnify it. Magnify the calling, that is. Not the sweat. Geez, my sweat problems. Seriously annoying. Botox my armpits already.

MDL: Have you learned anything yet?

Me: I don't like fermatas. I like wasps more than fermatas if that is any indication of how much I don't like fermatas. I do love when everyone sings with vigor, I love seeing my friends in the congregation, and I love seeing things I'd normally miss from my usual pew like Leif crying during Bryton's farewell and Trisha Hill signing the hymns to her deaf husband and things like that. Neat things. Sweet things.

MDL: We've gone on for too long.

Me: I tend to do that. I'm a bit of a natural filibusterer. I hate endings. I lobby for more beginnings! Hence why I make lists.

MDL: I started this, I'll finish this.

Me: I also always have to have the last word. Ask my Dad. It drove him crazy when I lived at home.

MDL: We're done. Good luck with your triceps and your stocking and your armpits. It was nice to meet you.

Me: But I-

MDL: No, we're done.