General Conference thoughts: The Joy of Unselfish Service

by Cristina B. Franco

First of all, I dare you to make it all the way through the chocolate cake story without getting a tear or two in your eyes.  It’s okay.  We all cried a little I’m sure. Continue reading

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The Moon’s Talent

The moon looked at the Earth and saw only darkness.  He wanted to bring light to the dark side of the planet just like the sun gave light to the other side.  So he tried with all his might to produce some light.  But he could not create any light for that side of Earth. Continue reading

Poor Willie Strang

I mentioned in an earlier post that I’ve read a couple of books regarding Brown’s Park (Hole).  An area that straddles Wyoming, Colorado, and Utah.  My interest is piqued because I have ancestors that lived in that area in the early 20th century.  I didn’t find much family history in my reading but I did read the sad story of Willie Strang.  He was 14 or 15 when killed by Johnson (or Johnston).  It’s a sad story that caught my attention.  I attempted to write about it in next week’s poem but didn’t like it so this week is take 2.  After I finished this poem I think I prefer the first one better.  It is now up to you, dear reader, to decide which poem is better.  

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Four Angels Divided

angelMy mom was an artist.  As an artist, she found many outlets for her creativity.  One outlet was painting ceramics.  Her dad and stepmother owned a ceramic shop and she helped out.  Along the way, her family were benefactors of ceramic projects big and small.  I remember her painting four angel ornaments for the tree.  One boy and three girls, or in other words, one for my brother and one for my sisters and me.

For years the angels hung on her Christmas tree every year.  Her little angels painted with love by our guardian angel.

Every year for thirty some years her angels hung on momma’s tree.

But all things come to an end.  This Christmas, the angels were divided and each hung on different trees in two states and three towns.  Mom’s angels are separated by distance but still connected by memory and love.