Karen's Dangling Conversation

Emma, with sister Eliza and Mom and Dad This is a story written by my niece Emma Perry. She's twelve years old and this story won second place in a city-wide middle school contest. What a rockstar!  Hope Faint beams of golden sunlight stream through cracks in the walls as our mining village hums to life. The rhythm that any miner can hear is already in full swing; the clang of men handling their pick-axes, the rumble of carts far off as they head down into the overwhelming darkness, and the forlorn hum of the miner’s song which pulses through the entire area as simply as wind blows. I know these sounds very well; in fact this is my regular wake up call. With great reluctance I slowly push the covers off and grab around for my boots. I look through the bare cupboards for some kind of sustenance besides plain-watery gruel, though as expected the menu remains unchanged. As I tie my apron strings Papa strolls into the room in his soot covered breeches and cap, a pick-axe slu...

T his is a guest blog by my niece Esther Perry who blogs a t estherperry.com . No, for once, not the weight on a scale . . . but the weight on your shoulders. My life has been feeling heavy lately. I've been feeling oppressed and alone and you know what? I KNOW it's not just me. I see it. In your eyes. Life is overwhelming for many people right now. And you know and I know, it's more than the economy . . . it's more than illness or grief or family problems. There's just a black cloud that's perpetually floating over our respective heads. No matter what you've been trying to do and no matter how hard you try, you can't get out from under it. Does it help you to know that it's not just you? Because it isn't. Prophets of old foretold of our day. They said, "When ye shall hear of wars and commotions, be not terrified: for these things must first come to pass; but the end is not by and by. Then said he unto them, Nation shall rise ag...

I over heard a little toddler on Sunday with a voice of longing as the Sacrament began.  "I want bread, I want water......I am hunngggryy.  My mind was immediately drawn to my own purpose in attending church that day.  It was to partake of the Sacrament and I had a longing of my own. The Sacrament  is a ritual in many churches, with various ways of expressing it and interpreting it.  For me, I am a Mormon, a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  This weekly opportunity to partake of the Sacrament for many of our faith becomes quite ordinary, hardly a thought to it.  Many times I have partaken out of habit, out of repetition, almost like a form of deja vu, an instant replay.  Today was different for me.  I had a longing deep inside, a need to fill, I was hungry. I had come symbolically to be fed by the Sacrament.  Just like the miracle of the loaves and fishes I knew that God could feed me, fill me up, make...