Megan Christina Hendry Rytting and her son Jonathan AnsonAt the moment I am with Nathan in the library on Palm Beach State College campus. There is a poetry night for his Spanish class--hosted by the Spanish Club. It is extra credit for his Spanish I grade. He was thinking about reciting "The Gecko" but we got here and found out that you needed to have signed up in advance to present a piece. I have really loved hearing him practice the poem aloud as we've driven from place to place this week. For those of you who do not know the poem:
The gecko has adhesive toes.
Straight up the walls the gecko goes.
And then, and this is most appealing,
The gecko walks across the ceiling.
Fool hardy is the one who tries
This topsy-tervy exercise.
To certain death he will be fated,
The gecko can't be imitated.
All of the poems that have been read so far have been written by teachers and there is someone now introducing a novelist who has written poems, is working on her second novel, and teaches at Florida Technical College. It looks like she's going to read from her first book. It takes place in Cuba and has something to do with the fall of the Berlin Wall.
I am making the most of my time here and writing about my oldest daughter's 26th birthday today. I am speaking at the Saturday night session of our Stake Conference (in a few weeks time) and have been asked to speak about living the law of tithing. I am, instead, going to speak about "What Am I?" The Church spends much time with its tag trio of questions: Where did we come from? Why are we here? Where are we going? As I have thought about tithing--and about Megan--I have been drawn to the truth revealed in the answer found when I ask WHAT AM I?
Am I honest? Am I kind? Am I obedient? Am I brave? Am I truthful? Am I to be trusted?
Behind these short queries lurks a dark, unknowable future place where WHAT we are is revealed. It may in the aftermath of a horrible hurricane when I open my home for shelter and offer my time to re-build. It may happen when I count my change and find that the cashier has mistakenly given me $10 too much. It may happen in the middle of the night when my infant cries and cries and cries--and I am still patient and loving and calm. It may happen when I am in the best room in the dorm--and then change my things for my roommate's after the Christmas break so that she can have a turn living in the best room. It may happen when an exhausted friend needs two large dogs walked every afternoon. It may happen when I am prompted to knock on some one's door and I don't know why. It may happen when I don't think that I can pay for rent and for groceries and I haven't paid my tithing yet. It may happen when someone needs to organize a dance and I am volunteered and then I do my very best to put on the very best dance that the Stake has ever known.
Megan is one of those people who is made of very stern, faithful stuff. She has forgiven me when I betrayed a trust. She has nursed family members when they were gruff and rude and unappreciative. She has adopted the extended family of her husband--spending endless hours on delicate artwork for the centerpiece of a reunion and volumes of her scant time to craft drawings and paintings to give away to those she loves. She is a valiant mother--teaching her son joy and confidence in the Lord. She is strong--working with Anton to finish his dissertation and get it ready to publish. She has a spirit that is irrepressible--when math does not make sense--when her offer of friendship is cruely rejected. She is compassionate as she teaches newly baptized members of the Church the New Member Discussions. She is inspired in the many Relief Society lessons she has taught to women of the Church. She is careful of her family's health. She is empathic when (unasked) she takes supper to a young mother whose husband is away on business. She is charity incarnate.
Nathan shared with me one of the highest validations of all that Megan is when he told me that "I want to marry someone exactly like Megan."
Two nights ago Nathan and I were in Barnes&Noble and I walked past a book. "The Girl Who Could Fly." I finished it last night and am sending to you, Megan. It is the story of a girl who does, indeed, fly--with her body, her heart, her spirit, and her whole soul.
Happy Birthday, Megan! Your 26 years on earth have made it heavenly for me. I love you.
