Margaret R. Munk

Three Portraits of Women from the Old Testament

Hagar | Esther | Hannah

Caridad

Typhoon rains were pounding the house for the fifth consecutive night. I was preparing for bed with a candle and a bowl of water when I heard urgent feet on the stairs. Belen Rivera, our…

Carefully Crafted Cocoon: Chrysalis by Joyce Ellen Davis

When I saw that Joyce Ellen Davis’ newly published novel, Chrysalis, dealt with a young mother’s experience with cancer, I was disappointed—but only temporarily. The theme seemed to be perhaps too obvious in its dramatic…

Searching

Beth knew as soon as Wendy answered the phone that it was a boy on the other end. Wendy’s eager young “hello” was followed by silence and then a furtive, whispered, “Just a minute.” Wendy…

One Year

The scene was written 
In advance, 
Rehearsed as often 
As the days of waiting 
Would allow. 

Service Under Stress: Two Years as a Relief Society President

3 September 1984 

Today my youngest child went to school all day for the first time. Every mother approaches this milestone with both anticipation and dread. I reached this point once before, six years ago, before the adoption of our third baby swept me suddenly back to square one. If it was a setback, it was the happiest one imaginable. Now, however, poised between treatment for a serious illness and hope for a plunge into a new phase of life, I would like to use the gift of uninterrupted time, a scarce commodity for fourteen years, for some written reflections.