"Who Am I Really?"

I wrote this some time ago as part of talk I gave to the Wolf Point Branch in the Glendive Montana Stake. I thought it would be appropriate to share it with you as we begin the Sabbath Day.

"Who Am I Really?"

Darrel L. Hammon

I know the names of plants

and animals, of their origins.

I know about George Washington,

Abe Lincoln, and the Desert Fox.

I know about the Green Mountain Boys,

and Nephi, and the stripling warriors

whose mothers taught them well.

I know about dissecting sentences,

plopping verbs where they belong.

I know when not to dangle modifiers

or place commas and apostrophes

where they don’t belong.

I know why I should drive the speed limit,

buy items only when they are on sale,

and bathe once a day.

So why is it that I sometimes wonder

Who I really am?

Shouldn’t knowing be as simple

as making cookies, frosting cake,

painting lilacs on the wall?

Shouldn’t knowing be as clear

as canyon springs,

Shakespeare’s sonnets,

and picking out animals in the clouds?

Why then do I stumble so

just before dances and the big date

or when she tells me

she doesn’t want to see me again

or when I get a D on a test

or when I don’t get my way

or when my day goes blue at noon?

Why do I lounge deep

in the leather chair,

mope around the house,

and misunderstand what is written

and hovers in my heart?

How can I miss the words,

the plain and simple ones,

that reach from centuries beyond

to my bedroom,

shouting from the roof tops

that it was He who was risen

that it was He who died for me

that it was He in whose image I am

that it was He who said

I would inherit all that my Father hath

and be made one with Him

in the many mansions

prepared for me?

Shouldn’t I know clearly that I am

a son of a Heavenly Father

who loves me?

It seems so simple

when I pray.