I’m left to ponder until it’s
time for the water.
I don’t hesitate at this
second emblem of renewal.
I feel it washing me inside
as it trickles down my throat.
Michael senses success,
squeezes my hand.
He cares so much
that I find my way
back to a Savior
he doesn’t
admit exists.
Is he pretending?
Is this all show for me—
so I can get that crutch
back under me?
I want it to be
as real as the intensity
his gray eyes reveal
when he catches
mine and smiles.
After dinner at Jaz’s,
while she snores on the couch
with her bandaged foot propped
on a tower of pillows balanced
on a wispy coffee table,
Michael sits beside me
on the step that leads to
a kitchen full of dirty dishes
that I need to wash.
I lean into him and inhale
his presence.
His lips rest on the top of my head
for a moment and then
he carefully places an open
Book of Mormon in my lap.
“I don’t get this part.” He
points to a verse.
“Can you help me?”
I sit up, study his face.
My eyes find his and hold them.
“You’re reading this?”
Tears threaten and a lump
in my throat chokes off my words.
He did this on his own? all alone?
Without me?
I sniff and pull a ragged tissue from my pocket.
He kisses my forehead. “Aunty Jaz told me
about the test at the end.”
I try to stay calm, match his nonchalance,
focus on the page open in my lap—
Lehi’s dream? My fingers smooth
over the page as my heart
beats loud enough for him to hear it.
“What do you think so far?”
“I don’t know I just started.”
His arms go around me.
“More action than I expected.
I thought holy guys were wimps.”
I snuggle into his embrace. “Not Nephi.”
“Yeah.” He raises a hand to his throat.
“That dude’s dangerous.”
“We don’t chop off heads at midnight.”
He laughs and stretches his legs out.
“Do you think I’m Laman or Lemuel?”
“The bad boys?” I frown at him. “No way.”
“Who then?”
“Sam?”
“No.”
I hunch over thinking, with elbows
on my knees and my chin in my palms.
“I know”—I sit up and twist to face him—
“You’re Zoram.” He looks puzzled.
I flick the pages back, searching.
“The guy they capture and force
to come along. Here.” I point to the verse.
He reads and shakes his head. “That’s what
I thought. Join us or die.”
I lean close and press my lips to his.
“That’s not your choice.”
He holds my face against his.
“Join us or lose you.”
I kiss him again.
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Even if,” he murmurs across
my mouth, “this test is a flop?”
I bow my head onto his shoulder.
“Have you prayed yet?”
“I’m on page fourteen.”
I look up. “So?”
“Don’t I have to finish
the whole thing first?”
I take his face between by hands
“Pray ever time you open the book.”
He leans forward and kisses me.
“Like now?”
We kiss again. “Uh-huh.”
He sits up, serious now.
“Can you do it?”
“No.” I push his hair out of his face.
His eyes move away from mine.
“You know I don’t believe
I’m talking to anybody.”
I take his hands and whisper,
“Then what will it hurt?”
He bows his head, closes his eyes.
“Dear Leesie’s God-guy,
Can you get her to explain
this dream bit to me? Amen.”
I squeeze his hands.
“I could call the elders. The guys
at the branch are nice.”
“Nope.” He lifts my hands to his lips.
“This is just between you and me.”
“And my God-guy.”
We sit side by side and bend
our heads over the verses.
“Lehi’s boys couldn’t figure the dream
out, either. The naughty ones sat around
and complained. Nephi prayed and look”—
Michael’s eyes follow as my fingers turn the pages—
“the Lord answered.”
He picks up the book and reads.
“This is talking all about Jesus.
He wasn’t in the dream.”
“The Tree of Life is God’s love.”
I point to the verse.
“Nephi received a vision of Christ
because His mission to earth
is the greatest manifestation
of the Father’s love for us.”
“But aren’t they the same guy?
I know that much from Gram’s church.”
“No.” I flip to a picture of the First Vision.
“Father and Son—just like you
and your dad—with bodies like
ours, but perfected—Eternal.
Glorified.”
He strokes my cheek.
“And you’re His daughter?”
I kiss his fingers.
“And you’re His son.”
“Like President Bodden’s blessing?”
“You remember that?”
His smoky gray eyes grasp mine.
“I can’t forget it.”
I put my arms around him and draw
him close. “Thank you—for trying my world.”
I kiss him with all the love in my heart.
He hangs onto me. “Don’t let go or I’ll panic.”
“Don’t worry.” I squeeze him. “I’ve got you.”
He rests his forehead on mine.
“What if you’re God doesn’t speak to me?”
I shake my head in wonder that he
doesn’t see what’s so clear.
“He already has or we wouldn’t be here.”
Michael draws away. “That’s my mom.”
I pull him back close.
“She’s on His side.”
Chapter 27
Q&A
MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG – VOLUME 10
Dive Buddy: Leesie
Date: 06/29
Dive #: --
Location: Grand Cayman
Dive Site: Aunty Jaz’s
Weather Condition: hot
Water Condition: the only water I’m in is what’s thick in the air
Depth: too deep
Visibility: murky
Water Temp: tepid
Bottom Time: all afternoon
Comments:
As I drive home from Aunty’ Jaz’s and all the next day while I’m diving, I keep thinking about what Leesie told me. To become a Mormon I have to believe in Jesus Christ. Not just that he was a great man who taught stuff that changed the world—for good or ill—depending on your point of view. I have to believe He’s God’s son—a God himself—my brother. And He came to save
me. From what I’m not sure. I need to ask Leesie.
Leesie says God and Jesus aren’t some indescribable divine force. Joseph Smith saw them. They have physical bodies. What about the Holy Spirit? How does He fit in?
And there’s this huge hole in Leesie’s logic. If God is literally the father of our spirits, don’t we need a mother up there, too? Is that supposed to be Mary? But how could she be Jesus’s mother on earth while she was being a mother in heaven? That’s kind of a heavy load for one, young Jewish chick.
I only have to work the morning. After I unload the dive boat, I grab a sandwich and head out. When I get to Aunty Jaz’s, Leesie’s in the front clipping the giant bougainvilleas that overwhelm the shack.
“Ouch.” She yells and drops the clippers. “These things have thorns!” She shoves her thumb in her mouth.
“Yeah. You need gloves.”
She kicks at the clippers. “And better clippers.”
“Want me to help?” I look at the mess she’s making. “We used to have these in Phoenix.”
“I don’t know.” She takes a few steps back and surveys her progress. “It seems hopeless.”
I slide my arm around her waist. “We can do it together.” I kiss her, and she squirms.
“Gross. I’m all sweaty.”
I kiss her again. “I like sweaty.”
She claps her hands over her ears and starts humming a tune that sounds like something they sang in church Sunday.
I laugh and release her. “I’ve got some questions for you.”
“Really?” She slaps at a mosquito on my arm. “We need more bug spray, too.”
Leesie washes up quick while I take cover from the mosquitoes with Aunty Jaz on the screened porch.
“That girl doesn’t stop—does she?”
I sit beside Aunty Jaz. “Not when she gets her mind set on something.”
Aunty Jaz looks back to make sure Leesie’s still inside, leans over and whispers, “She’s been busy at that computer late at night and early in the morning. She won’t read any of it to me, though.”
“Me, neither.” It’s good to hear Leesie’s working on her poetry. She’s progressing faster than I expected. We still haven’t had a chance to talk more about the accident—too busy with all this God stuff. It’ll come. The right time.
“How are you doing with that Book of Mormon?”
I lower my voice. “I got stuck. Leesie’s helping me. Is that allowed?”
Aunty Jaz’s face splits wide with a smile. “Of course. So that’s why she gave me that big kiss last night.”
I give her a big kiss on the cheek, too.
Leesie catches us. “Are you trying to steal my fiancé?”
Aunty Jaz slaps my back. “I’ve turned his head, sweetie. I have that affect.”
Leesie takes my hands and pulls me to my feet. “Mind if I try to win him back?”
“You can try.” She winks at me.
Leesie winds her fingers through mine. “We’ll be back in a couple hours. You’ll be okay?”
“My nurse arrives shortly.”
“We can stay until she comes.”
Aunty Jaz shoos us with both hands. “Get along.”
As soon as we’re on the road driving towards Georgetown, Leesie bites her lower lip and folds her hands in her lap. “You have questions?”
“Yeah.” I swallow. My thoughts are in a jumble. “First, how does the Holy—”
“—Ghost?”
“—fit in?”
“He’s the third member of the Godhead.”
“With God and Jesus?” I glance over at her. She nods. I look back at the road. “Why do you call him a ghost? That’s weird.”
“He doesn’t have a physical body like Jesus and Heavenly Father so He can communicate with our spirits.”
“Okay. Whatever. You know, this whole Heavenly Father thing has a big problem. Who’s the mother?”
“We don’t know.”
“You need a goddess up there. Think about it, babe. Maybe we should check out a goddess church next?”
“No need. We do believe there’s a mother in heaven.”
“I got it—Mary.”
“No. She’s Jesus earthly mother.”
“And Joseph’s his father—so how is he different than everyone else?”
“Check your Bible stories, hon. Joseph wasn’t his father.
Mary was a virgin, remember?”
Not really. Never read the stuff. “So it was like magic?”
“Miraculous. God’s power. Not Magic. You read the scriptures about it yesterday. The spirit overshadowed Mary and then she was pregnant. Mary says ‘great things’ were done to her.”
“You’re saying she slept with God?”
“I’m saying we don’t know the details. But she’s called a handmaid of the Lord. In the Old Testament handmaids bore children for Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. They became wives.”
“Wives?” I frown, confused. “You think God’s a polygamist? I have to believe that?”
“No. I’m guessing here. God made the rules. His relationship with Mary wasn’t based on sin. All you have to believe is Jesus was His son.”
“Not a fast-talking Jewish girl’s bas—”
“Don’t say that.” She grabs my arm. “It hurts.” She presses her hand to her heart.
“I’m sorry.” We drive in silence a couple miles, reach the outskirts of Georgetown, and traffic slows up. We get stopped at a red light. I turn to her. “You believe all this stuff—literally?”
“Yes.” She meets my searching gaze.
I shake my head. “I’ve never heard you pray to a Mother in Heaven.”
“No. We pray to the Father in the Son’s name.”
“What does that mean?”
“Jesus takes our prayers to the Father and pleads for us.”
“And what does the mother do?”
“We don’t know for sure. I think she’s there, part of everything—sharing like parents do.”
“Are you making this up?”
Leesie’s voice takes on an intense tone. “It’s very sacred doctrine.”
“So we were one big happy God family?” Sounds more like sci-fi than religion.
“In heaven? Before we came to earth? Very big. Mostly happy.”
I lean back and shake my head. “How could perfect, allpowerful God-parents make their children live in such a horrible place? Suffer like—” Me. And her.
“We chose to come here. Fought for the privilege.”
“Fought? Who?”
“Our other brother.”
We’re at the store, so the question I have about that gets lost in buying mega-clippers, two pairs of thick gloves, six different types of mosquito killer, and a giant bag of potato chips.
Leesie naps on the drive back to Aunty Jaz’s, so we don’t get back to our private discussion until late that night when Leesie kisses me goodnight and whispers, “Did I freak you earlier today with the Heavenly Mother stuff?”
“Nope.” I smooth my hand over her furry head. “It’s no stranger than everything else.”
“It’s why the temple is so important.” She can see I’m not following. “The family is a divine entity. The heart of everything in heaven and earth.”
“So you need to stick them together?” I stroke her cheek.
“Seal them.” She presses her lips into my palm.
I hug her close. “Why isn’t it automatic?” It should be. People who love each other should be together forever if they want to be.
“Nothing’s automatic.” She leans her face onto my hand. “God’s too good of a teacher to go for that.”
“He’s God.” I crouch down so we’re eye to eye. “He could cut us some slack.”
“If this is a test”—she touches her nose to mine—“he’s got to make it hard enough for us to grow.” She kisses me and retreats to the doorway. “Have you prayed?”
I shake my head.
She blows me a kiss. “Try.”
/> LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #98, I CAN?
I blew it.
I blew it.
I’m sure that I blew it.
CAYMAN SUMMER (Taken by Storm) Page 18
