Second great grandmother

Her slip is tucked away in 

My temple bag. 

Auguste Abramowska. 

I say her big name. 

Aloud.

No one on earth has spoken her name 

In years. 

She is not forgotten 

Nor are her six babies 

Who never made it to adulthood. 

All waiting. 

She is eagerly waiting. 

Today in Nauvoo, 

The holy house of the Lord 

It begins. 

I walk through 

Those doors 

With her. 

We will go down into 

The healing waters 

Of baptism. 

Two Mothers. 

Separated by years 

But linked by love 

And tears 

And longing for our children 

To be ours

Forever. 

That forever begins 

Today.