Is it Me?

“Is it me?  Am I the reason their lives are trouble filled?

I gave my all, my everything, to strength within them build.

Did I fail them somehow?  In my weakness, let them down?

Had they been sent to someone else, would their happiness be found?”

The wrinkled, pleading, tear-streaked face, bowed in anguished cry

Asks for understanding, needing to know why.

From childhood, they were tutored, taught and shown the way.

Then why so many of them now have turned and gone astray?

The answer, long in coming, finally understood.

“I sent them to you, Loved One, because I knew you could.

You’d be the one to hang on, to keep them near me.

You’d never give up on them so someday they could see.”

“It may not be in this life, maybe long into the next

But my promise to you and to them at the ending of this test

Is that you and I will someday, with joy o’er flowing, stand

And welcome them back to the fold.  They’ll someday understand.”

“You ask if they are troubled ‘cause they were sent to you.

No, no, dear, they were troubled.  That’s why they came to you.”

Sunset Years

The sunset’s glow cast o’er the sky, radiant orange-red

Filled with awe and splendor, is not for us to dread.

It is the crowning episode, the icing on the cake.

It’s time for taking one last turn, one more memory make.

And the brilliant ball of fire still hanging on the edge,

A promise of the world unseen and wonders yet ahead.

Sarah's Baptism Day

Dearest Sarah,

As you enter the water,

Dip down and rise again,

Through Jesus’ priesthood power

He’ll wash away your sin.

Hands upon your head will rest

And through His power again

He’ll promise you the Holy Ghost,

A sweet eternal friend.

In return you’ve chosen

To make a promise too;

Our Savior you’ll remember

And try His works to do. 

Mistakes will happen, now and then,

Some big ones and some small,

It’s through the sacrament each week,

He’ll cleanse you when you fall.

We promised we would teach you

Of our Savior’s chosen way

And hoped we could prepare you

For the blessings of this day.

But this is only the beginning

Of the things He has in store

Now look toward the temple. 

It’s all you dream---and more.

Love Forever, 

Dad & Mom

Light in the Dark by Anna Lynne Chapman

The whole world is pushin’ at my back

While i'm tryin’ to keep my life on track

I know, that this light may be hard to see

But it will light the way for you and me

*Chorus*

So, don’t be scared, don’t be afraid

To live free from day to day

We will fail and we will fall

But we endure and stand tall

We have journey to embark

And to be a light in the dark

Somedays i feel so unprepared and so lost

And sometimes i've been betrayed and crossed

I look to you and feel uplifted

I tell myself that i am gifted

*Chorus*

When gravity pulls me down

We lift each other and come around

*Chorus*

So, don’t be scared, don’t be afraid

To live free from day to day

We will fail and we will fall

But we endure and stand tall

We have a journey to embark

Yeah, a journey to embark

And to be a light in the dark

Unexpected Transfers

(For Elder and Sister Christopherson)

“Honey, do you think we should?

Should we serve a mission? 

Do you think we could?”

Together he and she struck out

To serve the Lord without a doubt.

Thrilled to serve Him side by side,

They’d find success in all they tried.

But they had only just begun learning all new ropes,

When unexpected transfers changed their future hopes.

“Transfers, Sweetheart, for us? It’s not what we planned to do.

We always do things hand in hand.  I want to stay with you.”

Nevertheless, the day came when he was called to go.

And she, a new assignment, a different role to know.

As he was departing, a voice she felt inside.

“I take him unto me to serve, but I’ll stay by your side.”

Little Bumbelita

For Chris and Sylvia Hoy, their beautiful children,
Dunken, Marisa, Ronan, Pieran, Frankie, Cian, Seamus
And for their little bee, 
Adela Mirella Concepcion Hoy
(Nov 24, 2015 - Feb 9, 2016)

Not even one full teaspoon

Not even one full half

Of honey can a small bee make 

Before its days are past.

Then why, God, why create it?

Why even give it life

If for this tiny product

It endures life's toil and strife?

"My little child," you tell me,

"It's hard for you to see

The work I can accomplish

Through one small honey bee."

"The honey she produces, 

Sweet balm for Mother's heart.

She's of vast importance 

As she plays her little part."

"Her fluttering wings play music

For her father's wounded soul

And the sting her older siblings feel

Will help them as they grow."

"No, this tiny bumbelita

Insignificant is not.

She's delivered my love to the earth

Straight to this family's heart."

Stockton

My Boy, my big, strong, handsome boy,

The time is coming close

When you will leave our presence here

And on your Mission go.

You’ve been a valiant warrior,

Constant, straight, and true.

But there, in body, weak and frail

Your work you’ll have to do. 

A heavy burden you will heave,

Yet ‘lone you will not be,

For Brother, Sister, Mom, and Dad,

We will give to thee.

Your brother, with his youthful arms,

Will your small frame take in,

And as he serves your tender needs,

Your love will strengthen him.

Sister, with unfailing smile,

Close by your side will stay,

And from your loving touch she’ll gain

The strength to never stray.

For your earthly father

We’ve chosen with great care

A man who’s great big heart has room

For all the love you’ll share.

Your mother dear, your father chose,

When they were very young.

In an instant his heart knew

That she would be the one.

For us, we chose with ease as well

The mother you would need,

For her light matched the brilliance

That we have seen in thee.

These four will be your helpers,

Your every need take care,

And as they do, son, bless them

They are your Mission there.

                                ~Aunt Kathryn, Feb 2015

Mighty Mothers

Is She Beautiful?

Beaming bride, trim waist, soft hands.
Gazing, wondering, dreaming,

Heart that flutters, lips speak love

Beauty—Unquestioned

Toddling child, innocent, sweet

Trusting, loving, laughing,

Bright eyes sparkle, plump cheeks grin

Beauty—Pure

Mother bustling, busy day, long night

Worrying, teaching, leading

Prayers of pleading, Hands that sooth

Beauty—Enduring

Winner of bread, student of books

Caring, striving, serving

Dreams yet fulfilled, ache in her chest

Beauty—Undaunted

Maker of homes, gazing ‘round, empty nest

Traveling, enjoying, supporting

Letters of love, faces to greet

Beauty—Refined

New adolescent, childhood gone

Trying, shying, becoming

Freedom seeking, future looming

Beauty—Blossoming

Woman of age, graying and bent

Slowing, accepting, remembering

Spirit contented, sacrifice made

Beauty—Tested

Daughters of God, young and old

Striving, falling, rising

Beauty inherent, Blessings endowed
Beautiful—All

10.31.14

True Love

True Love

In cozy bed I slumber.

Scared cries reach my ear

"Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!”

Called out in dreaming fear.

Which baby is it crying? 

I go in search to see

And find in nursery sleeping

Not one wee babe, but three.

The two-year-old is stirring.

I stroke her tussled hair

And take note of the place they sleep

Built with such love and care. 

My father knows our family.

He saw specific need

And built this bed for our girls

With skill and love and speed.

Now all round Dad’s creation,

The room, the door, the hall,

I see more blessings tailored

By the Father of us all.

He too saw the specifics.

He knew our thoughts and cares.

He listened and was mindful

As we came to Him in prayer.

With a father’s love He drafted

The blessings He would give,

Just like a bed for babies,

A home for us to live.

I cannot doubt their love for me

It’s in each small detail.

I see through Dad’s example

That Father’s love is real.

                                   ~Kathryn May Chapman

                                                           Sept 23, 2014

A Teacher and a Master

He’d taken youth on journeys through tales of people past.

He’d entertained and taught them.  His love for them was fast.

But teachers can’t continue forever in the schools.

Retirement impending, he couldn’t break the rules.

But his heart was set on teaching, on helping youth to grow.

How could he continue?  The Lord would let him know.

“You’ve taught them well and shown the way to gain from books and text,

“But now your time needs to be spent with boys in freezing tents.

“From tender footed cubs, you’ll fashion mighty men.

“Each badge will bring them closer to coming Home again.”

And so the history teacher, a Master has become

In motivating, guiding, and strengthening God’s sons.

He takes them to the pastures in sacred mountains where

Their souls can graze on lessons that God can teach them there.

From week to week he pushes.  Their strength and honor grow.

To God and Country their hearts turn, their duty come to know.

The fledgling wings are stretched out and heads are held up high

As from the nest where eaglets grew, great Eagles fill the sky.

Dear Brother Johnson, thank you, for all the time you give

That our boys may be Eagles, and soar to God, and live.

A Mother's Prayer

(Sung to the tune of A Child's Prayer from 

the LDS Primary Children's Songbook.)

Heavenly Father, are you really there,

And do you hear and answer every mother’s prayer?

I thought that my life would be a dream

But now that it’s here I want to sit and scream.

Heavenly Father, I remember when

I would see older women peck like mother hens

I’d pray that children would come to me

Cuz I’d never rant or yell, but perfect be.

I need your help.

I’m going crazy.

These are your children,

Tell me what to do now.

He hears my prayer.

He sees I’m trying,

So I’ll climb out of this closet and go find my kids. 

The Gift of A Capella

One of the highlights of our trip to Idaho was introducing my husband and children to the Ricks College (now BYUI) Campus.  I enjoyed showing them around my old stomping grounds.  I thought it would be fun to visit, but I was not prepared for what would happen when we toured the Snow Building, where I had spent most of my waking hours for 2 years. 

As we walked in the doors my emotions became very keen to the past.  We found our way through the “fish bowl,” into the dark corridors of the Barrus Concert Hall and the tears began.  Old friends and strains of music from long ago nights flowed from those walls and into my heart.  My memories came alive, the risers, the polyester dresses, the anticipation, Brother Luke, the smiles, the audience, they were all there dancing out of the cobwebs in my mind.  I could not speak, only try to hold back the tears as I realized once again how much this place, those people, had meant to me.  So much of who I became, how I was molded, took place right there.  Some of my greatest moments were standing on that stage hanging on until the last note stopped ringing in the air and the applause would come, feeling a part of something that was so close to perfection.  We worked, we played, we studied, and we prayed that our music would be all it could be, that we could be one instrument.  We were.  Our hearts, all fifty of them, united in music, as friends, pulling together, ringing as one voice.  Brother Luke’s motto, “Ban Mediocrity” had pushed us to levels none of us had ever before felt or achieved.  And there it all came back to me. 

I haunted that Hall a few minutes more, touched the seats, opened the doors, stood on the stage, hummed a note or two, cried a few more tears, and thanked my Heavenly Father for the gift He had given me, the gift of A Cappella.

November 2007

Good Morning, Dad

                                                         

Good Morning, Dad, It’s me again, just calling to say Hi

Don’t I always have a thought or two I’d like to pass you by?

Maybe it’s a rusted bolt or a clanking in the trunk,

Or a thought that kept me up all night about a bike chain that got stuck.

Or there may be a project, the “daddy-daughter” kind

Something you and I can build that I’ve got on my mind.

Even when there’s nothing that I need to ask about

I want to call you anyway and let my feelings out.

Back when I was younger I’d talk your ear right off

Ok, maybe I still do, but you can take it, ‘cause you’re tough.

This morning I just want to chat and tell you what is up

Maybe brag about my kids.  I know you’d eat that up.

But, Dad, my mind’s not thinking of the children still in bed

It’s dwelling on the days gone by and my Daddy Dear instead

I’ll keep my mouth from moving and let my memories flow

And try to bring back things you taught and did so long ago.

Remember the irrigation that flowed across the lawn

And the trains that passed not far away just before the dawn?

There were trees to climb in summer and sleds to ride in snow

And roads to plow in winter, then lawns again to mow.

Work-time was important and you taught me not to shirk

But you also taught to romp and play when we’d finished all that work.

I remember all the hook shots you would take out with the boys

And the way you’d shout from bleachers and be heard above the noise.

“Get up and run”, you’d tell us, “Take that shot and now rebound!”

When we played sports we always knew our dad would be around.

But, Dad, my mind’s not caught up with the playing and the sport

It’s the feeling I have in my heart that seems of great import.

You’re body, Dad, is older.  It doesn’t run so fast

As it did when we were younger--in my memories of the past.

It’s this thought that made me want to call and hear your voice today.

Thinking with me always I want you and Mom to stay.

But that’s not the Father’s plan, you taught me all along

He planned that we’d get older and our bodies not stay strong.

Guess here’s the thought I want to share as I call you up today.

I love you, Daddy…thank you.  That's all I have to say.

But wait, what is it I should do when your phone rings on and on?!

When you aren’t around to tease me and help me carry on?!

Dad, I love you so much my heart could break in two.

When you’re not here to hear me, then what will I do????

“Sweety,” I can hear you say, “Come here and sit by me.”

“Wipe those tears right off your face and let those questions be.”

“You know it’s not forever, this separation part.”

“You know it deep down there inside your saddened little heart.”

“We’ve taught you all since babies, God’s perfect, loving plan”

“So tears arn’t necessary for this aging, older man.”

“Life isn’t long for anyone, we’re not on this earth to stay”

“Then we’ll all be back together.  Let’s look forward to that day!”

Thank you, Dad, for listening, once again to my long thoughts

I’ll call again tomorrow and we’ll have another talk.

Kathryn Chapman Oct 6, 2012

Briar Avenue

We really are sheltered here in Happy Valley.  People say "sheltered" as if it were a slander, but it is a blessing.  The Lord brought His people here to the Rocky Mountains, a shelter from the storms of the world.  I want my home to shelter my children like these mountains and this valley have sheltered the saints for over 165 years.  I want it to be a place where they can grow and feel what it's like to live in a loving, safe place.  Briar Avenue is that kind of place--the kind we only see in old black and white reruns. 

Briar Avenue is a place where children run from yard to yard knowing they are welcome wherever they decide to play and parents know their children are watched over.  It's a place where TVs take a back seat to swing sets, trampolines, and basketball hoops.  Neighbors lean over backyard fences to admire each others gardens and share plums, berries, and apricots from whoever's trees bore the fruit.  The irrigation runs on Monday mornings and cools the feet of children as their grandparents fondly remember their Mondays in the water.  Generations have grown up here taking in the beauty of "Y" Mountain as it turns golden in the moments before the sun sets over Utah Lake.  That is when parents call in their troops, coaxing them away from bicycles, jump ropes, and that one last jump shot.  They kneel as families thanking Heavenly Father for the blessings of life, knowing that all up and down the street their children's friends are doing the same with their families.

No, there is no place quite like Briar Avenue.  It's a comfy bed I would love to snuggle down in and never leave.  But, morning will come and I will have to leave my cozy, safe shelter and take on the world again.  That is not bad.  It is wonderful!  There's a whole world out there.  A life waiting to be lived.  People waiting to be loved.  But I will forever be grateful for and long for my warm, happy place on Briar.

Seeing What He Sees

She looks at him, he looks at her.
Their love is plain to see.
For over sixty years it's been
Their heart born legacy.

She's always been a beauty
To anyone around,
But none appreciate it more
Than his grinning eyes of brown.

For years he's looked upon her
At home and on the stage
And praised her work and efforts
In the many roles she's played.

Her face is etched upon his mind
Her kindness in his heart.
They laugh and smile and relish life
Making aging well an art.

His eyes have changed, as some eyes do,
After years of working well,
The features of his lovely bride
His eyes no longer tell.

But her beauty, only strengthened,
By the ups and downs of life,
Is the kind that comes from deep within
More felt than seen, his wife.

"Do not feel sad," he tells me,
As we speak of vision lost
"For I have her, and she has me.
I'll take that at any cost."

"We'll always have each other,
Thanks to a loving God.
And that will keep us happy
Through any trial we trod."

She looks at him, He looks at her.
Their love is plain to see
And now I understand at last
Their heart born legacy.
                         ~by Kathryn May Chapman

~For Lael and Margaret Woodbury

My Voice

Why did He give this gift to me

If I must hold it in for no one else to see?

The time’s not now

The time’s not right

For now I kneel right here

And kiss small heads goodnight.

These are the greatest gifts that I could have.

They are the reason I have given all I have.

So with my voice I’ll sing to them

And teach them all

Of who they’re meant to be.

Maybe someday, I’ll stand

And sing upon some stage

And the applause and praise will ring.

But for tonight, I sing to them a lullaby.
                          ~by Kathryn Chapman

One More Kathryn

Feb 2009

There once was a family, they all went by Chapman

The one thing they lacked was just one more Kathryn.

Now, don’t get me wrong, they already had two

But a 3^rd one was needed and John knew what to do

He went off to the Y and searched all around

Until a tall Kathryn in a green coat was found. 

She hap’ly agreed to his get married skeem

For this boy she found out was one tall handsome dream. 

We can’t overlook the day she decided

She opened her heart and to her diary confided

“He made me a chocolate double-tiered cake

This boy, if he asks me, my hand he may take!”

February 14^th was the day she wrote that

But John, a bit slow, on his think chair he sat

For two more full weeks, her hopes started to drop

But he finally caught on and the question he popped.

Ten years have gone by since his search she did end.

And now to the fam’ly this message I send.

The last name he gave me the day that we married.

I gratefully took and now I have carried

With honor and love for the Chapmans before me

Especially John, and our Valentine’s story. 

                          ~by Kathryn Chapman 

Trish and Dan

I knelt to say my prayers today

To count my blessings up

And found that God had given me

An overflowing cup

He brought to mind the people

Who instruments had been

In His great work of kindness

Through serving fellow men

He helped me to remember

The kindness we’d been shown

By two who opened heart and home

And loved us as their own

Trish, my cherished sister,

Who’s been there all my life

And Daniel, man of greatness

Who’s taken her to wife

Yours was a gift most needed

A roof over our heads

A place where we could play and run

And sleep upon our beds

But more than this—you showed us

His tender loving care

When unlocked doors you opened wide

And a blessed home you shared
                          ~by Kathryn Chapman

Third Hour

I sit and look around at you

You women of the Lord

Gathered in this simple class

Each members of our ward

There is a reason you are here

To learn or grow or teach

It’s up to you to find out why

His purposes to seek
                          ~by Kathryn Chapman