AS I REFLECT By Ronda Hinrichsen

 With President Hinckley's death, I can't help thinking about all those who've paved the path of righteousness ahead of me, serving as my righteous examples, loving me as only they could. And with those thoughts have come memories of a poem I completed several years ago in response to a neighbor's grief after the untimely death of her daughter. It brought my neighbor comfort. Perhaps it will comfort others, too.                                      

  As I Reflect
  By Ronda Hinrichsen

As I reflect my mother's hands,
Nails cut short,
Callouses made soft by her caress,
I see sacrifice
Grow
Like a candle quickened on a hill.

As I reflect my father's hands,
Palms worn rough,
Fingers clenched tight in healing prayer,
I see Life's Staff
Stand
Tall in the winds of the harvest rain.

As I reflect my home, my hands,
Fingers washed white,
Palms pressed close against my heart,
I smile as winter
Melts
Spring into the Western Sunrise.

ONE DAY By Ronda Hinrichsen

One Day
I'll tell you 
how much 
your kindness
meant
to me.

Life
hurt,
hardened,
hindered
until I saw
you.

White.
Washed 
for me.

You didn't even 
know me--
My Name--
but you
Knew
His.

And that
made all
the difference.