Trying to Remember My Talents

When I was a teenager sitting in Young Women (the Church program for the girls 12-18), we had a lesson on talents. To set the stage of this class, you need to realize our class was very small. Three young women to be exact, myself and my two best friends. Bec was already an amazing artist, and Mandy, she was extremely musically talented.

So when the question was posed, with what talents have you been blessed? The answers quickly evident for Bec and Mandy, when and came to me crickets. So the teacher, who happened to be Bec’s Mom, asked for their help, they thought and thought, and the talent they came up with was that I loved people. Not really the talent a sixteen year old wants to hear as her talent. Especially when her best friends have talent oozing from the them. Not only could I not see a real talent, but those who knew me inside and out could not either. I was crushed.

I went home devastated. I knelt beside my bed and poured out my heart to Heavenly Father begging Him to let me have another talent. I wanted one that others would see and recognize, one other than just a great capacity to “love people.” I promised Him that if He showed me my talent and helped me develop it, I would use it for good.

The next day in English literature we started studying poetry. Poetry. Yeah right. I hated reading. I would not even read the cliff notes for the books for school I hated reading so much!

BUT that day…Never before had the words looked so beautiful to me. I loved the way they sounded and flowed. I loved the way that the thoughts seem to form at my finger tips so rapidly, almost guided by some unseen being. It was so amazing.

That night I penned my first real poem.

Everytime I see this Greg Olsen picture I think of that poem, so it is a fitting introduction.
20130530-161538.jpg
Big Brother

Big Brother used to tease me,
Called me His little squirt.
He sheltered me from trouble,
Never wanted me to hurt.

The time soon came His leaving,
The tears I shed, not few;
But He promised He’d prepare for me,
The place I must go too.

The days without Him seemed endless
And I wondered where He was sent.
I asked Father, this my question,
“Where is this place Big Brother Jesus went?”

Father smiled and then He hugged me.
The answer He thought I should know.
“Dear Child, Your Brother is preparing the world-
The place you soon will go.”

“What is this world you speak of?
Is it far or is it near?
Oh now I miss, Big Brother Jesus.
How I wish that He were here.”

“My dear child” Father answered.
“He has gone, not far, to earth.
Your Brother Jesus is doing well.
He though he had a humble birth.

We are with Him during each moment.
He knows we truly care.
All He must do to be with us,
Is to kneel, and ask in prayer.”

“But how long will He be gone?”
I asked Father still confused.
I was but a little spirit then,
My Big Brother I was afraid to lose.

“A time I cannot tell you Child,
For this you cannot know.
No fear should you have of losing your Brother,
He is doing My work below.”

Father’s words so gentle,
That I felt like I could ask,
“Dear Father, when then can I go,
To earth to complete my task?”

“Your time will come all too quickly.
My Child you must prepare.
Earth life is not easy.
Search for me when you get there.

In me you will find all answers,
To problems that will come.
Dear Child, fear not your life,
For in my Kingdom, no one’s alone.”

“But where do I look to find you.”
I questioned Father with care.
“Close by you” He whispered,
“As as a child’s prayer.”

With most of my questions answered,
Along my way I went,
To begin to make myself ready,
For earth life to be sent.

My day finally came,
But before He let me go,
A secret to tell me,
Something each Child of His must know.

“Your time has come to leave me.
Dear Child your valiance great.
I have saved you for this important time.
No longer do you need to wait.”

He paused just for a moment,
Then quietly He sighed.
“This part of the Plan is scary for most.
A veil I place before your eyes.

This way you will not remember
Anything before your birth.
You must search for me my Child,
To learn of your great worth.

I place within you a special gift
This gift I call your heart.
It will help you know and feel what’s right,
And help you do your part.

Never go against it
Because what you feel, you’ll see
Will never lead you to do wrong,
When the feelings come from me.”

He kissed me on my forehead,
On my way I had to go.
It was my turn to prove myself worthy,
And live my life below.

When I reached the earth I saw,
That everything was new.
I could not remember Father,
Nor my Big Brother who I loved too.

The family to whom He sent me,
So loving and so kind,
Helped me to gain a testimony,
That my nature is divine.

The talks with Father I remember not,
Nor the days from whence I came,
But my family here on earth,
Prepared me for life same.

One night as I was praying,
I looked up over my bed.
A picture of a man was hanging.
Beneath that picture said,

“Suffer not the little children
To come unto me.”
Something in His words alone,
And in His face I began to see…

The Big Brother that I new before,
The one I held so dear.
A feeling sparked within my heart.
A feeling I felt so clear.

I saw My Brother, Jesus Christ,
Hanging there upon my wall.
I knew He had prepared the world for me,
And died and rose again for us all!

I have other poems that I will share along and along. I really wish I could finding my poetry inside myself again, hopefully over time I will.

But for now, it is blogging, and I am also going to give photography a try. Anything to help me focus and get out of my head.

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About Hope

I am forty year old survivor and a five year old victim of sexual abuse. I live with severe depression and anxiety, and in 2013 was diagnosed with DID and PTSD. My journey is to reintegrate my alter and the adult me into a whole person, healthy person, and one that can empathize with others.

4 thoughts on “Trying to Remember My Talents

  1. I remember that lesson. I’d forgotten it was my mom who was the teacher. I thought it was your cousin. But your memory is a whole lot better than mine. (If that’s not a talent, it’s at least a gift. πŸ™‚ ) I do remember this poem, though. I will tell you what I tell my students (and myself): Talent/skill is like a muscle. If you don’t use it, it becomes atrophied, and you have to loosen it up and learn to use it again. You’ve always been an excellent writer, and I think your blog is a good start to helping you loosen up that muscle.

    I can’t post a photo on here, can I? I drew a poster of the four of us in high school, because it occurred to me that between us, we covered the arts pretty well. I still have it – Me: visual arts, You: writing, Mandy: music, and Jo: dance. So even then I thought of you as a writer.

    Maybe to a teenager the great capacity to love others, guide them, and listen to them selflessly may not have seemed like a great gift. It’s certainly not flashy, and it’s generally visible only to those who receive the gift from you. But to those of us who have benefited from your “talent,” it’s worth is much greater than you realize. (By the way, you sing beautifully, as well. That’s something I’ve always wished I could do. I don’t think I’d ever stop singing. Grass is always greener, eh? πŸ˜‰ )

  2. I’m headed out of town for the day, but I posted it on FB a while back. If you can find it there, you can download it. Otherwise, let me know, and I’ll try to find it on my computer and email it to you. Love you, too!

    1. I found it. Awesome. I remember it too! I am debating whether to post it or not, since it has our faces. I was thinking originally our faces were drawn also. Though I have changed alot since then, my basic features are the same, Hope would not be quite as incognito. One day as I get further removed from the situation, I might introduce my true identity. I know nothing would make “her” happier, but I am still nervous about that. One of the reasons, I put pictures of when I was young is so I was not so anonimous to people, but also to let “her” know that “she” was not forgotten. It is complicated, I hope that makes since.

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