Author: Angela

I write so my family will always have letters from home.

Last roses of the season

I cut the last roses from the bushes this morning. They were a little frost-bitten, and I wonder if the warm house will encourage the buds to open. Sometimes a little shock is all we need in order to bloom.

I continue to feel the shock of new experiences in motherhood. This weekend I watched a son get injured at an athletic tournament, and saw his hopes of playing taken in his first minutes on the field. I haven’t felt that disappointment and sadness before. One night last week, I tried to wait up for a son, only to awaken at 4:00 am on the couch, stiff and incredibly sad. I had missed his homecoming. Fatigue is happening, but I hope the accompanying display of my heart is like these roses, showing their struggle in blooming, vibrant array. I may not be beautiful, curled up on a sofa or sitting bundled on the sidelines, but they are exercises in blooming, and they mean, “I love you.”

Look!

I have watched his face this year, and for a little while, his cheeks were sunken and his eyes seemed dull. I have worried and prayed. I’ve had to trust that others would step forward, as my own legs were not made for this journey with him. But my heart has traveled in his shirt pocket, close and warm. It has flown above him, hovering just above his bright hair in hallways, hills, and classrooms. I gauged his strength by the notes on our piano. For a time, there was no music.

“Wait,” is all I hear from heaven.

Quietly, steadily, I watch grace unfold its pattern, like the snowflakes I cut out each winter. No matter how many I make, I still feel wonder when I open the folds.

“Look!” is a common word spoken by angels.

I didn’t have to wait for winter this year to reveal a pattern in the cuts and winnowing. It wasn’t a snowflake this time. It was a jack-o’-lantern, every feature smiling, especially the eyes.

My son is happy.

 

My current tool kit

My current tool kit for life includes:

Tissues: I sense over time that there is a correlation between trust and the number of tears I witness as a Relief Society president. When I hand a sister a tissue, I know her tears are precious, and I am honored to share the moment with her.

Chartreuse, Olive, Purple, Tan, and Silver Thread: These are the colors needed to sew on Scout patches. Recently, I transferred Mark’s patches to Daniel’s old shirt and moved Daniel’s old patches to a larger shirt. Timothy needed me to sew on about 15 merit badges. I do this sewing so they are prepared for big evenings like we had this week. Daniel completed his board of review for Eagle Scout rank, and I was asked to give a few words about his scouting experience. I shared a little of what it is like to send my 11 or 12-year-old to Scout camp for the first time, and to hear later from a leader that he did well. I shared what it feels like to let go, and see a son grow in leadership and ability because I allowed him some danger and adventure.  I didn’t earn Daniel’s Eagle for him. What I did was watch, wait, and encourage. This was the longer and more difficult path, but better. Later, I noticed this was the shirt I was wearing beneath my sweater for the Eagle board of review. Perfect.

One, Three-ring Binder for Each Child: When a child comes home with a certificate, report card, recital program, or blue card for a Scout merit badge, it goes in a sheet protector in this binder. When college and scholarship applications are due, this is a great reference for what they have done during high school. To keep merit badge blue cards organized, I use plastic sheets made for baseball trading cards. I can’t emphasize enough how important it was for me to keep track of these, through a move and changes in leaders.

Small notebooks: I carry these around with me so I can keep track of ideas, which swirl around me and are fickle about staying in my head very long.

Sugar free Ice Breakers Wintergreen Mints: because I talk to many people.

Small fabric bags with zippers in my purse: I have one for keys, and one for pens. They keep me organized.

A great phone plan for texting: for teens and church work

Laser printer: I am learning that writing a book means endless drafts.

Paper scriptures: Lately, I gravitate toward paper over electronic, because I have 20 years worth of notes in the margins of these scriptures. They have been steady friends during times of change.

Yearly tasks written on a calendar: In January, when I put up a new calendar, I took some time to write in the margins some hints about what needed to happen each month. For November, I wrote that during the first week I needed to go to a certain store for the best selection of Christmas cards. Another week we needed to do the Christmas picture. This has been so helpful! (And I realize probably everyone does this already.)

Less: Our family doesn’t need as much as it used to. Toys, art supplies, curriculum, and smaller clothing need to make steady exits from our house… as I have the courage to part with them.

If I think of you, I will make some effort to contact you: This isn’t a tangible thing in my tool kit, just an idea that I have recommitted to this month. Basically, I trust there are reasons I think of random people in a day, and make efforts to find out why.

Happy yellow

Our neighbor’s yellow leaves reflect on the kitchen floor in the afternoon, and I delay raking the leaves in the front yard because like to walk through them. This week we had a band concert, a choir concert, and tomorrow Tim performs his concerto again. Daniel rocked a gospel accompaniment for choir and played a Mack Wilberg arrangement for another choir. It is fun to hear so many styles of music. I hear him tapping his electric keyboard after he finishes homework in the early hours of the morning. He wears headphones so we don’t hear the notes, but I hear the rhythms.

Joy this week was having a neighbor confirm that Mark will be coming by to trick-or-treat because she has something special to give him. It was looking for just the right things to give. It was an invitation to visit a friend for a celebration, and someone trusting me with her questions. It was being welcomed into people’s homes and seeing endurance and humor in suffering and old age. It was hugs at a concert, and the line of tiny animals on my piano bench brought by a student. Joy was sensing Timothy moving into action behind me to help carry something up the stairs without being asked.

This week has revealed some troubling things, too, but the light on the kitchen floor reminds me to focus on the joy.

Odds and Ends

October is coming to an end, and I found a few photos on my camera from this month that I want to remember. First, we have Daniel at the school district meeting being honored as a National Merit Semifinalist.

Our tree in the corner of the backyard gains its color quickly and loses its leaves even more quickly. I captured it one day as the sun hit it just right.

Mark’s school project to make a Teddy Roosevelt doll was a success. I only had one burn from the glue gun.

We both liked the little guy a lot.

 

I went to the Israelite Tabernacle exhibit at BYU with a friend and her daughters. Paige met me on campus after church to walk through it with me. There were no tour guides on Sunday, but we lucked out because there was a professor of ancient scripture there with his family, leading them through the exhibit. I snickered when this reverent grandfather had to ask the guard for something to fish out one of his grandson’s shoes from the brazen altar.

And no way was I touching this replica of the Ark of the Covenant, but the fingerprints don’t lie. Somebody did.

91 years

I called my grandmother last night to wish her a happy 91st birthday. She talked to me about weather and politics and her grandchildren, all the usual. I asked her what she thought her secret was for living so long.

I guess she gets that question a lot, and she said has no answer. No one in her family history has lived as long. She just said she loved to be surrounded by pictures of family, to watch them grow and achieve, and to receive letters in the mail.

Without saying it directly, I saw that the secret to living, no matter how many years we have, is to be positive. She has chronic pain in her knees; she has another scan this week, as the doctors may be worried that her cancer has returned; she is alone a lot of the time. But she brushes these things off, and focuses on the people in her life, and delights in kindness shown to her.

We are watching and and waiting as another relative receives more bad news each day about her health. How do I reconcile these two stories in my family, of longevity and illness? How do I live without fear, and with gratitude, no matter what? Most important, how can I support these women in the paths they have ahead?

These are my Monday thoughts.