While reviewing letters my grandmother wrote to my grandfather on his mission, I came across a long, sweet letter telling the happenings of her week. She closed the letter, “Love to you from someone who is lonesome for you but who is glad you are having the glorious privilege of a mission.”
Then she added a hasty postscript, “I am enclosing a poem I thought you might like. Love again.” She underlined “Love again” heavily. I turned the page curiously expecting to read a love poem.
And a love poem is exactly what I found. This is the love poem that I should have expected. As I’ve inhaled the words she’s left behind, I know that Grandma Genevieve felt the gospel in her soul. It was her breath.
And so this “love poem” this recently returned missionary sent to her almost returning missionary/high school sweetheart told me so much about them and meant so much to me.
The Love Poem I Should Have Excepted from Genevieve Tanner
Christ walked with them no more,
For lo! His blood was shed
By those who had not understood
That He should be their head.
Guards were sent to watch the tomb,
Through the long and silent night
When lo! with startled eyes they saw
A white and shining light.
Twas Angels come to roll away
The stone that bound His grave
So Jesus could rise again
And thus we mortals save.
A sad and lonely woman
Came to His tomb at dawn
With oil and spice to anoint Him
But lo! her Lord was gone.
She knew not where to find Him
But then a voice she heard
“Fear not,” it said, “for I arose
That death itself be conquered.”
“I now go up unto My God
And unto your God too,
Go live the teachings that I gave
When I was here with you.”
Though many hundred years have passed
Since that glorious Easter dawn
We all should strive within ourselves
To help His work along.
For it has made life more complete
To have the knowledge sure
That when Christ died upon the cross
He left a gospel pure.
This love poem that I should have expected from my grandmother did fill me with love. Through her words, I heard her testify of Jesus Christ, of His mission, and love for me. And I recognized that I’ve been that sad and lonely at the tomb who wondered where her Savior was. And like Mary, Grandma Genevieve and I have found Him.