Elder Bednar visits Portugal

One of my dear friends in Portugal, Sandra Ribeiro, and her husband Ed (who is currently serving as the stake president in Coimbra, Portugal) just had the opportunity to spend time with Elder Bednar over several days as he visited the Church in Portugal.

Following are her words, which I think you will find edifying:

Dear Friends and Brothers,

I am too happy and need to share what is in my heart.

After a weekend enjoying the presence of Elder Bednar it is impossible that such a thing did not change our lives.

I am so happy that all I want to do is cry, mixed with happiness and sadness for his visit being so short.

Whenever I recall his words I feel the Spirit confirming that he is a true Apostle of the Lord, and how blessed we are for living in these days in which we can have the Lord's words inspiring us and giving us the strength that we need each day of our lives.

I feel now, more than ever, the great responsibility that we have as members of the true Church, to share our message of truth with everyone, and to be our best in everything. We are children of a marvelous God.

These are my feelings, and surely each of you felt the presence of Elder Bednar in a personal way, and I needed to share this with you.

Thank you for being my brothers and sisters in Christ, and may we remember this always and do what we can to merit the wonderful act of the love of our Savior who gave His life for each of us.


=================================
(her original letter)

Queridos Amigos e Irmãos

Estou demasiado feliz e preciso partilhar o que vai dentro do meu coração.

Depois de um fim-de-semana a desfrutar da presença do Elder Bednar é impossível algo não mudar na nossa vida.

Estou tão feliz que só me apetece chorar, misto de felicidade e tristeza por ter sido tão pouco tempo.

Sempre que relembro as suas palavras eu sinto o Espírito confirmar que ele é um verdadeiro Apóstolo do Senhor, e como somos tão abençoados por viver nestes dias em que podemos ter suas palavras inspirar-nos e dar-nos o alento que necessitamos para cada dia de nossa vida.

Sinto agora, mais do que nunca, a grande resposabilidade que temos como membros da Igreja verdadeira, partilhar a menssagem da verdade com todos, e sermos os melhores em tudo, somos filhos de um Deus maravilhoso.

Estes são os meus sentimentos, e comcerteza cada um de vocês sentiu a presença do Elder Bednar de forma particular, e isto precisava de partilhar com vocês.

Obrigado por serem meus irmãos em Cristo, e possamos sempre lembrar disso e fazer por merecer o acto maravilhoso de amor de nosso Salvador ao dar Sua vida por cada um de nós.

I lost a friend

Sides declared, darts were thrown,
and now each one is left alone.

I am sad, my friend, that you took offense when I explained my beliefs. Why did you pry them out of me and then attack? I let you have your beliefs.

But you were right about my not loving enough, and Christ-like enough. I want to; but loving unconditionally has always been a challenge.

I wish I could talk with you, but I am afraid you would attack me again. Perhaps if you read this blog you will realize that I mean no harm, and we could reconcile, and this stone in my chest would dissolve.

Quem é?

Quem é aquela pessoa da Vila Nova da Gaia que lê o meu blog semanalmente? Que ela se anuncie! (Manda-me um e-mail: elephantnavel@gmail.com).

Dolores Malaschak

2/5/09:

I found an interesting little book (only 70 pages) of poems at D.I. last week, entitled Run In The Morning, by poetess Dolores Malaschak of Cahokia, Illinois, and published in 1968. Interestingly, the inside cover has her name and address written in it. I am pretty sure this was her own copy of the book! I found many of the poems intriguing, and powerful in their images. Here are a couple (perhaps I was meant to find this book):

"A Time for Growing Up"

The iron of protocol stamped atoms of being
in that cataclysmic time
when worlds as I had known them
burst into shredded thought
with every tatter caught
on leopard winds
and dragged through fiery catalysts
where childhood liberties
were pegged and spun and purged
and pulled to neatly narrow lines.


"Ides of March"

March morning
electric with promise
calls the jonquil eastward
strokes the mockingbird throat
and spills a nectarine flavor
through greening pavilions.

Furrowed fields
squirm with worms uprooted,
while sheet and blanket sails
fill with a southerly wind
as hope galleons forward
to quicksilver summer seas.


"Scavengers"

Men gather like vultures
at the imminent demise of reputation,
their black words flapping
above the remains,
their sharp innuendoes
tearing away the breath
of explanation.
Unhappily,
talons may slip, leaving
jagged outlines on a brother,
and, vulture-like,
men turn on their own
their black words flapping
in ever tightening circles,
for food is food
and vultures will be fed.


-----------------------------

I like these poems.

Has anyone heard of Dolores Malaschak?


.

-------------------------

2/7/09:

Dear D. Deles,

What a wonderful coincidence! I am tickled that you knew her. Do you have any pictures of her? Any other poems you could send me?

And why on earth would her book be found in a thrift store in West Jordan, Utah? How did it get here? If you feel comfortable e-mailing me, it's elephantnavel@gmail.com.