Mothers Thoughts

April, 15th 2003 By Ruthy Olsen

We get in the car to go to church

And one boy hits another.

Soon there’s yelling and contention

Then cross words come from mother.

“Is this how we act, when we go to church?”

I ask in a voice unkind.

They do not hear, they keep on fighting,

These thoughts came to mind.

Did Joseph ever hurt his brother,

Did Nephi punch-out Sam?

Did their mothers want to scream

And say bad words like dam ?

I thought of men both young and old,

The ones who are so great.

Were they rowdy, when they were small?

Did they aggravate?

The Sons of Helamen loved their mothers,

They grew to be strong and true.

Do you think they misbehaved,

Did they make their mother’s feel blue?

Just then the boy who started this,

Stood and passed, the sacrament.

His white shirt pressed, he looked so tall,

I remembered, he was Heaven sent.

I chose to be these young boys mother,

To teach them right from wrong.

Going to church and teaching the truth

Is what would make them strong.

So as I sat in the church that day,

A still small voice seemed to say

You’re in the right place , Press Forward

I promise they’ll learn to obey.

A single tear rolled down my cheek,

As four boys sat in a row.

How blessed I am to be their mother,

And teach them as they grow.

Maybe all the great ones,

Were naughty once in awhile.

But they grew to be men, and righteous

So let it be said on file.

That when my boys are fighting

And it seems that they’ll never learn.

I’ll remember the patience God has for us

And my heart within me will burn.

I’ll remember the Sons of Helamen,

I’ll think of the righteous ones.

I’ll do my best to raise these boys,

And my job will never be done.

If I do my best to teach them

And love them, every one.

They’ll be okay, and love the Lord,

And someday he’ll say Well Done.

By- Ruthy Olsen April 2003

The Trunk

The Big Brown Trunk is Old and Worn,

It Sits on my Living Room Floor.

It’s Crossed over the Sea and Over the Land,

It’s now part of my Dйcor.

But My Big Brown Trunk is more than that,

It’s filled with Treasures and Such.

You wouldn’t think to look at it,

That to me, it could Mean so Much.

The Treasures are Memories, of Days Long Ago ,

When I was just a Young Girl.

I’d climb in the Trunk with my Sister,

And our Brother would give us awhirl.

A Space-Ship we would call it,

And Grand Adventures we would Go.

We Loved to Play in the Big Brown Trunk,

But with time we began to Outgrow.

So it got pushed away in the Corner,

For years it was left all alone.

“It’s Old” my dad said, let’s throw it away.

So I decided to make it my own.

The Trunk came with us from England,

It’s been there to me, from the start.

I wanted that Old and Worn- out Trunk

It’s my History of which It’s a Part.

My Big Brown Trunk reminds me,

Of Family and Ties that Bind.

It makes me think of those I Love,

Better Friends I’ll never find.

They Live Far Away now, My Family

I don’t see them, I wish that I could.

But I have my trunk, it’s a link with my past.

And my cherished child-hood.

Written by Ruthy Olsen April 21, 2003

My Mothers Knee

There’s a Place I like To Be,

It is Upon my Mothers knee.

There I Eat and Sleep and Play,

I want to be there Night and Day.

I like to Listen to her Sing,

And Read to Me about Everything.

She Teaches Me all I Know,

She likes to Watch Me as I Grow.

She makes Me Smile all the Time,

It is a feeling that’s quite Sublime.

At bedtime she Rocks Me in our Chair,

While I Touch her Curly Hair.

On her knee at the end of the Day,

Is where she teaches me how to Pray,

There she wipes my tears of pain,

And holds me till I smile again.

She always calls Me her Little Bug,

Then Gives to Me a Great Big Hug.

I’m her Baby, She’s my Mother,

I would Not want any Other.

Someday I’ll be Big and Grown,

So I want it to be Known.

My Favorite Place to always Be,

Was upon my Mothers Knee.

To Ashley and Mattie Jones

By, Ruthy Olsen April 26, 2003

The Note

It was one of those days,

When I was feeling rather blue.

I had a lot on my mind,

With a lot of work to do.

I went to do some errands,

When I returned I saw a note.

“How did she know I needed this“ ?

A lump grew in my throat.

“I love you mom” It simply said,

In letters bold and bright.

It made me smile I was amazed,

It filled my soul with light.

I needed to hear those words that day

It helped me keep on going.

My love for Amy at that moment,

Was filled to over-flowing.

I thank the Lord for Amy,

She is my Shining Star.

Where would I be without her,

Could I have come this far?

Her happy smile her funny laugh,

Give me so much Joy.

She is a friend to everyone,

I’m glad she’s not a Boy!

I’m not a perfect mother,

I make mistakes every day.

So my heart is filled with gladness,

When a child stops to say.

“I love you mom”,

I’m glad that you are you.

Then I reply from my heart,

“I love you too.”

April 27 2003 Ruthy Olsen

My Mothers Hands

My hands look old and wrinkled,

They have, since I was a girl.

They look just like my mothers,

Like my hair, has her curl.

Dad always said I looked like her,

The image of my mother.

Today I look upon my hands,

And see we’re like each other.

I think of ways we’re similar’

Not just in the way we look.

We like to cook, and eat, and play,

And especially read a book.

A short time ago when she was sick,

I rushed to her bedside.

I held her hands in my own,

While silently I cried.

Her hands were big and swollen,

While they rested on the sheet.

Where were the wrinkles and the lines,

She didn’t look complete.

It wasn’t right to see them still,

Not constantly in motion.

They should be moving all the time,

With vigor and devotion.

I thought of all her hands have done,

For me, for all my life.

And for her service to my dad,

She’s been a wonderful wife.

Suddenly I realized,

I’m as glad as I can be.

To have her hands and be like her,

You couldn’t disagree.

So as I look at all the lines,

And wrinkles like no other,

I think of the one who gave them to me,

I’m so glad to call her mother.

Mother’s Day

May 11th 2003

By Ruthy Olsen

My Sister And Me

Mandy is my sister,

We’re different as can be.

She is short and I am tall,

She’s clean and I’m messy.

She is older and much wiser,

At least that’s what I think.

We’re not the same, but need each other,

Just like a pen needs some ink.

She thought I was a little brat,

Always in the way.

But now I’m grown and really cool,

We talk every other day.

She always laughs at my jokes,

And listens to my stories.

She says they are interesting,

Even when the’re gory.

She hates to shop, but goes with me,

She knows it’s my favortive treat.

I help her spend her money,

Then we go for something to eat.

Our skinny days are over,

We’re the same that way, it true.

We talk of ways to lose the weight,

And cheer each other when we’re blue.

I think that up in Heaven,

Before we came to earth.

We knew that we’d be sisters,

We looked forward to our birth.

We may have had our quarrels,

Probably will until we die.

But I’d never trade my sister,

Cause on her I can rely.

She’ll always be a friend to me,

In calm or stormy weather.

We might be different, but you can see

That we belong together.

May 12th 2003

By Ruthy Olsen

My Fathers Eyes

My Dad used to say.

I was a twinkle in his eye.

I wasn’t sure what that meant,

But I knew he’d never lie.

I knew it was a good thing,

Cause’ they twinkled when he’d smile.

And when we played on the floor,

And laughed a little while.

We played a game that I loved,

He’d lie down on the floor.

Then he’d put me on his feet,

And to the sky I’d soar.

His eyes would twinkle other times,

When he’d pray or sing to me.

And at moments that where special,

It wasn’t hard to see.

The eyes tell much about a soul,

My Dads are full of cheer.

And when they shine and twinkle,

There is naught for me to fear.

If I’m the reason for a twinkle,

I know I must be great.

I think it means he’s feeling Joy

And to that I can relate.

My Dads the one who’s really great

He makes me feel so glad.

He’s always brought me happiness,

And cheers me when I’m sad.

I hope to always be a twinkle,

In my fathers eye.

Cause I know it means he loves me,

And on that I can rely.

Thanks Dad for all you’ve done,

I never can repay.

I just hope you know I love you,

On this special Fathers Day.

By Ruthy Olsen June 15th 2003

Little Sister

My mom brought home a little bundle,

Wrapped-up in a pink blanket.

I looked inside and was amazed,

It was a baby I hadn’t met.

They said she was my little sister,

How lucky could I be.

A real live baby of my own,

I loved her instantly.

Her cheeks were chubby, Her eyes were blue.

With hair as white as snow,

It wasn’t really hard to guess,

Why I adored her so.

We went on walks around the block,

I liked to comb her hair.

I fed her food and we played games,

While she sat in her yellow high-chair.

With time she grew, and so did I,

Other things filled my life.

I loved her still, but wasn’t there,

When her life grew full of strife.

She chose to take a different path,

From what we all believed.

It hurt our hearts to watch her go,

Oh, how my parents grieved.

It’s been sometime since she’s been home,

She’s had three bundles of her own.

How we miss and love them,

We could never them disown.

The other day I talked to dad,

He said she called to meet.

My heart felt Joy and relief.

It will be quite a treat.

You see a Family Is Forever,

No matter where you are.

We belong together,

It’s better near than far.

I pray that when she sees us,

Her pain will melt away.

So we can all be together,

In eternity someday.

Our Bishop

We love our Bishop,

He’s one of a kind.

A gentler man,

We couldn’t find.

Our ward is blessed,

Because of his love.

There is no doubt,

He was called from above.

He serves everyday,

In thought and in deed.

He’s on our doorstep,

When we are in need.

He has a smile,

And handshake for all.

And picks us up,

If sometimes we fall.

He is our teacher,

And our guide.

To him we go,

When we need to confide.

He is a good sport,

And doesn’t quit,

Sometimes he’s even,

Shown some wit.

He’s went on the Trek,

And walked the mile.

He made the experience,

Very worthwhile.

At girls camp, he shows

His fatherly side.

He loves the young women,

With a great deal of pride.

The scouts love to ride

In his motor boat.

And everything good,

He does promote.

The children in primary,

Bring a tear to his eye.

Their testimonies born,

Are in rich supply.

It doesn’t matter,

If we’re young or old.

For he is our Shepard,

And we are his Fold.

He does his best for us,

And the Lord.

He knows Gods Church,

Has been restored.

His testimony is what,

Makes him strong.

He’ll live the gospel,

His whole life long.

With Diane his wife,

Along by his side.

His calling as Bishop,

Has been magnified.

So Bishop you see,

We just want to say.

We love you so much,

And could never repay.

Your given your all,

Tenth ward is the best.

Thank-you Bishop,

Our Lives are blessed.

My Buddy July 16, 2003

I took a moment to ponder,

Our friendship the other day.

I thought I’d share some feelings,

There’s some things I want to say.

Sixteen years is a long time,

We’ve gone through it all.

Happy, sad, angry, glad,

It’s mostly been a ball.

We’ve shared our deepest secrets,

Our hopes and dreams and fears.

And sometimes there have been moments,

When we’ve even shared some tears.

I looked to you for guidance,

I am your listening ear.

We’ve learned lots from each other,

And our loyalty is sincere.

Lots of friends come and go,

But some forever stay.

Kindred spirits from the start,

For always and a day.

We are different in lots of ways,

And that’s what makes us strong.

We compliment each other,

That’s why we get along.

I know it doesn’t matter now,

If we are close or far apart.

Nothing could change our friendship,

Or the feelings in our heart.

Someday we’ll be old and gray,

It’s not so far away.

We’ll laugh and sip our cans of coke

And still have lots to say.

Thanks for all the happy times,

And for being my best friend.

We were friends in heaven,

And will be until the end.

I Almost Forgot

“I am bored”, I thought,

As I sat in church today.

But I’m the mom, I guess,

So here I have to stay.

I have to be the good example,

And listen to the talk.

When what I’d really like to do,

Is leave and take a walk.

A missionary shares his return,

A talk I’ve heard before.

Everything said is the same,

It’s all become a bore.

Why do I have to come to church,

It would be nice to sleep.

To stay at home, do nothing,

Maybe rest, put up my feet.

Then I looked at my children,

Sitting quietly in a row.

I know they should be here,

It’s the place where they will grow.

I started to feel guilty for these

Thoughts in my mind.

I decided to start and listen,

Just to see what I might find.

The talk was done we sang a song,

“Let Us All Press On” it said.

I sang it loud it woke me up,

The answer came into my head.

I am here to learn the things,

Heavenly Father wants me to do.

So I can someday return to him,

When life on earth is through.

I have to teach my children,

And show them what is true.

Even if it’s sometimes boring,

It’s right for me to do.

So every week I’ll come to church,

And repent for my transgressions

Be glad for a loving Father,

And listen to all the lessons.

The time had come for us to go,

We all stood up to leave.

A smile grew as I realized,

I remembered why I Believe.

August 18 2003 by Ruthy Olsen

Devil’s Visit

The Devil Came to Visit,

Just the Other Day.

I said he wasn’t welcome,

I said HE COULD NOT stay.

He looked surprised, and with

A grin said, oh but I’m invited.

Then he made himself at home

And said, I thought you’d be excited.

All my life I’ve been aware,

That Satan was around.

But I was sure his presence,

In my home would not be found.

But I was wrong, he found a way,

So I asked him to explain.

The things he spoke were hard to hear,

And caused in me great pain.

“I’ve been watching for sometime,

And knew the time would come.

I waited very patiently , hoping

someone would succumb.

To my temptations, and deceit,

I made it look so pleasing.

Prehaps you thought it was a joke,

That maybe I was teasing.

“But I meant it when I said.

That you’d be in my power.

If you didn’t obey and keep Gods word,

Then you I could devour.”

Did you pray , and do the things

That you were taught to do?

Did you strive to be like God

Where you always true?

Oh the horror of the moment,

When I came to realize.

He knew the answers to the questions

I could see it in his eyes.

With much regret I came to see

I didn’t try hard enough.

To keep the spirit in my home,

It seemed to be so tough.

And then he took what he was after,

The pain was oh so great.

He took our dad and husband,

I knew we were too late.

To change the things, we should have done.

And make the wrongs all right.

Now I felt all was lost

And our futures not so bright.

Dad chose to take a different path

From which he’d always lead.

He listened to the devil and let

Evil fill his head.

Now he’s gone and we are sad,

It’s hard to live each day.

But I’ll be sure to have the Spirit

So we never go astray.

I tell this little story ,

In hopes that you will hear.

That If you do the right things

You will not need to fear.

So always live the gospel,

Do what God commands you too.

And rest assured my dearest friend.

The Devil won’t visit you.

Ruthy Olsen Oct. 2003

The Face in the Mirror

I look in the mirror and see a face,

Of someone tired and worn.

I see the lines and shadows,

I see a women filled with scorn.

I think of the man that I loved,

The one who shared my life.

The one I committed myself too

Through happiness and strife.

He walked away and didn’t look back,

He didn’t seem to care.

He didn’t see the anguish,

Or the pain that now I bear.

He said he wasn’t happy,

That he made a big mistake,

That all the years of marriage to me,

Was all that he could take.

He left his children and the church,

His beliefs and values too.

In search for someone better,

He wanted someone new.

I thought back over all the years,

The ups and then the downs.

I remember the smiles and laughter,

The moments of sadness and frowns.

We had them both like everyone,

The trials were a difficult time.

But as we grew and over came,

To new heights we seemed to climb.

Life wasn’t supposed to be easy,

I learned that long ago.

This life is a difficult test,

It’s hard, so we can grow.

So why did he give-up all he had,

Why did he choose to leave?

Did he forget all that was good,

Did he forget what we believe?

I may never know the answer,

To these questions in my mind.

Who knows what lies ahead of me,

What things in life I’ll find.

So I look into the mirror, and wonder

Will I ever smile again?

Will the ache ever go away,

Will my life be free of pain?

I know that I can handle,

The trials God gives to me.

But this is so hard, so daunting.

So I beg on bended knee.

That I can weather out this storm,

Endure to see the sun.

So in the end my Savior says,

Well done my faithful one.

Ruthy Olsen Nov.5 2003

HIM

In lonely solitude I cry,

So know one sees my tears.

I pour out my heart in fervent prayer,

To Him who always hears.

I plead for courage to have strength,

To endure this difficult test.

Then a still small voice speaks to me,

“Dear child you will be blessed.”

But it is hard to have the faith,

That all will be okay.

When lots of time I wonder,

How I’ll make it through the day.

Sometimes I grow so weary,

The fight in me grows dim.

I want to give up, stop trying,

Then something reminds me of Him.

He sends his angels to administer,

In acts or words and deed.

It shows me that he loves me,

He’s there when I ‘m in need.

When I don’t remember,

All that my Saviors done.

The pain He suffered just for me,

The only Begotten Son.

A calming fills my troubled heart,

My tears begin to cease.

I feel the warmth of His love,

My courage begins to increase.

Then I count the blessings,

I receive every day.

I feel renewed and strengthened

For these things I always pray.

I can press forward to the mark,

I want to pass this Test.

I know I can succeed,

I just have to try my Best.

The tears may come to me again

There’s so much pain to endure.

But I know that He loves me

This feeling makes me sure.

Ruthy Olsen Dec. 2003

Single?

The announcement was for Singles,

They were looking right at me?

But I got married years ago,

For time and eternity.

It couldn’t be so, it isn’t right,

It was not in the Plan.

We’d always be together, I thought

For the length of our life’s span.

But suddenly he is gone,

And I am all alone.

Now I’m known as single,

My identity is blown.

How do you act single?

For 20 years it has been two.

I don’t know what to say,

And I don’t know what to do.

When I was young I liked to flirt,

I knew how to play the game.

Now the whole idea,

Seems to me to be quite lame.

I don’t want to be a SINGLE.

The men are bald and old.

Their bellies hang, their breath it smells.

It makes my blood grow cold.

But then I look and realize,

My belly isn’t flat.

In fact if I was honest,

some might say I’m rather fat.

But I don’t care, its how I feel,

It’s all so very strange.

With my luck I’d date a man,

Who’d turn out to be deranged.

I think I’ll just stay home instead

It really won’t be bad.

I’ll call a friend, or watch TV.

I won’t let myself feel sad.

My dating days are over,

Who needs a man I say.

I’m to busy for such nonsense,

I don’t have the time to play.

I’m better off without a man,

They can be such a pain.

If he doesn’t have lots of money,

What’s there for me to gain.

I finally convinced myself,

It’s okay to be alone.

The best date in the world,

Is my couch and telephone.

As I sat, with my thoughts,

I looked across the aisle.

There’s someone new, with hair,

That even has some style.

He turns around and smiles,

I think his teeth are real.

My heart starts to flutter,

What is this that I feel?

Suddenly I’m not so old,

I return the smile to him.

I like the look in his eyes,

His waist is even slim.

Maybe he’s a SINGLE,

I didn’t see a ring.

He’s kinda cute, maybe rich,

This could be a good thing.

Do I dare admit,

Maybe Singles, not so bad.

You only live once, and maybe

There’s more fun to be had.

I’ll close this little poem,

It’s getting rather long.

I think I figured it out,

And I know I’m never wrong.

Being 40 and a Single,

Is like 20, it’s the same.

It’s not how old we are,

It’s the way we play the game.

Ruthy Olsen Jan 4th 2004