To My Mother

Last time I was in Russia on a mission, I had this 'epiphany' about the home I was raised in--the time, place, the family, the gospel--that all of it was an incredible gift to me. In my mind's eye I stood on Padley's corner in the dark of a summer's night and looked across the street and saw my little lit-up house in Bountiful, Utah, and was impressed with how valuable my upbringing was to me. Last month my thoughts went down paper and this is the result.

To My Mother—On Why I am in Russia

Summer eve settles cozily on my quiet, safe hometown.

Lonely echoes of distant trains arc gently around

the blue-dark vault of sky.

The street light on Alder’s corner throws down a teepee of light

beckoning busy bugs.

A glowing porch light has called the children in from

bikes & balls, marbles & mud, sprinklers & skates.

Dirty, disheveled kids tumble and rumble

through the house, loud and lively.

Windows spill light and warmth out every which way.

My family’s there.

This is where I belong, where I am wanted, where I am loved.

My busy dutiful mother is in the kitchen

—clean up, get a snack, settle down, watch TV, play some music,
read a book, say your prayers, kiss good night, go to sleep—

Order; security; love; God.

To be a woman born where I was, when I was, to whom I was,

with what I was given . . .

The fingers of understanding reach out through the night vision

lifting the veiled edges of my mind and heart

so I might begin to see and know.

At the pinnacle of all time and history I am placed

not to rest on the pillow of privilege,

but to reach my hands and heart out to others.

Life and love came from my parents with joyful abundance.

Through faithfulness my mother gave us a real Hope in Christ.

Now I must live by love and faith and hope

and share these priceless gifts

if they are to remain forever mine.

— Regina Elizabeth Peck Andrus

Missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

St. Petersburg, Russia

18 June 2011