|
Share the article on
this page with a friend.
Click
here.
|
|
| 
Gifts
from the Sea
By Susan Law Corpany
On my recent trip
to Utah, I had the opportunity to speak to a number
of Relief Society groups. As always, the opportunity
to prepare, present and polish a talk leaves me
a better person, and I always enjoy meeting and
talking with new sisters and feeling of their
spirits and learning from them.
I also had a great
time visiting with a book club in a little more
informal setting. I apologize to the ladies from
Cottonwood, but the flu knocked me out those last
few days of the trip, and I had to cancel. You
are first on my list next time I come to town.
For the Relief Society
birthday party at a ward in Idaho, I prepared
a presentation based on the writings of Anne Morrow
Lindbergh contained in a timeless little book
called Gift from the Sea. I wish I could
share it with my sisters all over the world, so
instead I share a little bit of it here, hoping
it will grow wings and go out to those who need
it. It began with a search for all the right shells
to illustrate the different concepts from the
book, and it ended with a search of my own soul
for words to match the eloquent author’s,
as I added a few of my own insights to hers.
As soothing sounds
of ocean waves played in the background, I shared
with the sisters the beauty to be found in simplicity
of life and of the art of shedding those things
that encumber us, both in body and spirit. I talked
of the need for solitude and tapping into the
springs we reach only when alone, of the necessity
of filling our own buckets, and once filled, being
content to water a garden and not a field. I spoke
of the shifting shapes of the relationships of
our lives, using the shells I had carefully picked
to illustrate the insightful words from the book.
Trying to keep the
same tone as the book, I talked of service. “I
will never use my limitations as an excuse for
not brightening my own little corner of the world
or as an apology for not reaching out beyond my
own shores to the extent that I am able.”
A pair of delicate angel wing shells illustrated
the concept of serving our fellow beings.
I passed around a
giant conch shell, and as each sister listened
to the distant sound of the ocean echoing in the
shell, I talked of being still.
I
want to hear the voice when it calls to me. I
want to heed the promptings and be an instrument
in the Lord’s hands. I want to be still
in the midst of the turbulence of life, able to
hear the voice of heaven, the one that says, “Be
still, and know that I am God.” I do not
know if I will be called upon to climb mountains
or navigate rough seas. “Be still.”
The tasks before me may loom large when my strength
seems to be spent. “Be still.” Just
as early mariners navigated by the stars, I, too,
will have benefit of heavenly guidance. “Be
still.”
It has been almost
a year since my first interview with Meridian
Magazine led to the opportunity to write this
column. When asked to choose a name for the column,
my first thought was “The Beacon Light.”
Something about that wasn’t right, but at
first I could not put my finger on it. Then I
realized it was the word “the” that
didn’t work. There is only one who is “the
light of the world.” It isn’t me.
I reread the part
in my patriarchal blessing that says my life will
be as “a beacon light” to others.
I have always felt that it was through my writing
that this would come to pass, hence with “a”
minor change, my column became “A Beacon
Light.” I am one among many, shining what
little light I have, going back to the source
of all light when it grows dim. Often in a fog
myself, I do my best to shine through.
Continuing on, I
wrote the following, which I illustrated by holding
up a small lantern:
I
stand at the shore, feeling the softness of the
sand between my toes, knowing that each grain
has been broken down over time by the buffetings
of the ocean. The rise and swell of the tide has
eroded each particle until the coarseness is no
longer felt. I feel small and insignificant and
fear that I still have many rough edges which
need to be polished, yet I know that I am numbered
to the One who created this world and the bounteous
ocean that deposits its gifts so freely at my
feet.
I see the sun dip
one toe into the ocean, tentatively it wades
out to its knees, up to its waist, and then
in a blaze of color, it plunges its head under
the water and is gone. Replacing the sun as
a light to seafarers in need of guidance, the
beam from a nearby lighthouse reflects upon
the twilight waves.
I
pray that in some small way I might also light
the way for those who follow, for my children
and the children of my children, for the stranger
I met at the market earlier in the day, for the
woman whose lonely eyes bade me stay a bit and
chat. I pray that my hard edges have softened
enough that for those with whom I come in contact,
my presence will be a soothing rather than an
abrasive one.
As the sun sets
on each vanishing day, I vow to shine my light,
such as it is, for my fellow travelers, as I
have often found myself stumbling and navigating
through life by the light of the lantern of
another. Were we all to shine what tiny glimmering
light was ours to hold, flickering and weak
though we may find it, many a fellow traveler
would find safe passage home.
I would like to thank
the good people at Meridian for the opportunity
this past year to share my thoughts with their
readers.
|
|
| About
the Author: |
| 
Susan Law Corpany grew up in Salt Lake City. She
attended Utah State University and the University of Utah, and she
is currently attending the University of Hawaii at Hilo, on the
big island of Hawaii, where she now lives. She is married to Thom
Curtis, a sociology professor at UHH. She has one son, a stepdaughter
and five stepsons. She recently became a grandmother to the world's
most beautiful baby girl and will, on request, furnish the e-mail
addresses of her unmarried returned missionary sons to eligible
young ladies in an attempt to get more such wonderful grandbabies.
She has stored up a half century of
wit and wisdom and began a couple of decades ago to download it
onto the printed page. Widowed in her twenties, a series of books
resulted from the experience. She is the author of Brotherly
Love, Unfinished Business, Push On and Are We There Yet?
She considers herself sort of a cross between Erma Bombeck and Eliza
R. Snow and says she writes under her first married name "To
honor my first husband and not to embarrass my current one."
She is currently working on several other novels, and is collaborating
on a humorous self-help book called, "Why Don't the Airlines
Ever Lose My Emotional Baggage?"
|
| Related
Resource: |
| A
Beacon Light Archive
Click toBuy
Click to Buy
|
Click
here to learn more and to buy
Witness of the Light is an epic
photographic journey into the life of Joseph Smith from Sharon
to Carthage, bringing you many stories and details you've never
heard before. In this feature-length film, Joseph's life
is put in a powerful new visual context, details come alive, and
the events leap off the page in our minds with a new and poignant
reality. Loved by more than 100,000 members in presentations
across the Church, Witness is an intimate portrait of
Joseph's life and a journey of the heart. Click on the DVD
icon above to learn more and to add it to your home. The
cost? An historic $18.30.
|
| What
do you think? |
| |
Format
for Print
Click Here |
|
Share the
article on this page with a friend.
Click
here. |
|
|
