Author: Angela

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

Hopscotch

I’m currently in a time warp because I have been tackling Christmas a little earlier this year. In my head, it is Christmastime, but the grocery store reminds me there is a big Thanksgiving holiday ahead. I have a friend who does her Christmas shopping by October, sets up her tree in early November, and sails through December. I admit that I don’t like to skip the focus of Thanksgiving, but this year, surrounded by Christmas preparations, I am not living in the moment. Maybe playing hopscotch over Thanksgiving helps me forget the empty chairs around our table as I make sure there are simple gifts beneath every tree. Perhaps focusing on Christmas is one way to show my thanks for my greatest blessings: our Savior and our family.

Digger

Ah, home ownership. When the stop-and-waste valve broke this month, Richard shopped around for someone to replace it. The estimates were so high that he decided to dig the hole himself and just ask a company to replace the valve and not excavate. This saved us a lot of money.

Richard is really good at finding solutions like this, and this is one of the reasons the kids and I have lived a comfortable life.

Oh, look. I wrote a book.

A mother of very young children asked me in church on Sunday, “So, what do you do all day [now all your kids are gone]?”

Lately, this is a difficult question to answer without some emotion, but I wanted to convey to her that I love my life. I have always been able to do the things that match my temperament, family, and interests. So I chose to say this about my new phase of life, “I am a writer, and solitude is good for that.”

A couple weeks ago, I compiled the talks that I’ve given in sacrament meetings and stake conferences for the last 9 years serving as a church organization president of a Relief Society and then stake Primary. Friends, I have written a book of religious thought without realizing it. 😂

This is the grace of God

I’m pretty sure that the words this Apostle spoke to us won’t live in memory as long as what he did after the meeting.

He invited every person who wanted to shake his hand to come forward. A long line formed as most people in the audience joined the line. He asked their names and showed genuine interest. We watched him do this for about an hour and a half as he stood at the end of our row in the chapel. One by one, he ministered to all.

I am not the type to stand in line to meet important people. It could be shyness or ingrained patterns of trying to be invisible. Heavenly Father knows this about me, and He also knew I needed some encouragement. So, we had front row seats to observe a Special Witness of Christ express love in the pattern that Christ has shown. When the crowd was gone, I didn’t need to do anything but stand up in order to meet Elder Gong because he was right there waiting at the end of our bench. This is the grace of God.

In the temple laundry room

A few months ago we took a shift to clean the temple from 10 pm to midnight. People are doing this all of the time, and it was not a big sacrifice. I helped clean the baptistry, and part of my job was to dust the walls of the laundry room, which were not dusty, unlike the walls of my own home.

I was regretting that I wasn’t having a spiritual experience in this temple laundry room when this song came to my mind. The Spirit reminded me that caring for this room was a way to show my gratitude to my Heavenly Father for this temple and for His goodness to me all my life. So, I finished my shift, singing this song in my mind. The Spirit showed up for me in the laundry room that night to expand my vision.

I should ask the question more often, what can I do this day to show my gratitude to God?

Growing Up

Next week I will turn 50 years old. I found this little piece of my writing from a few years ago that describes what growing up looked like for me in my 40’s,

Years ago, I was in my smug thirties, so self-assured that I considered myself a lifestyle expert. I think our move to Utah in 2012 was the end of many things, including the belief that I know very much. Over the years, my writing about parenting and education has slowed, and a trend towards more religious thought comes through…

To grow up is to give up idols, even the ones that we thought were safe to keep: dependence on a friend, youth, surroundings, talents, processes, and routines.

To grow up is to be shaken, again and again, out of comfy shoes to march in new ways.

[In my 40’s], “growing up” looks like squared shoulders and brisk walks into unfamiliar rooms as a [church] leader, sometimes seeing smiles fade with my approach. It’s white knuckles, holding on to a few words that are true. It’s finding meaning in the warmth of the sun hitting my hair as I pray before facing a challenge. It’s a racing pulse while saying the things God puts into the heart. It’s choosing silence in order to snuff out animosity. It’s discerning light, despite people expressing doubt and fear. It’s goodbye after goodbye. It’s disappointing people. It’s watching myself become ridiculous and also deaf. It’s ignoring the urge to blend in. It’s giving, despite an absence of response or a negative response to the gift.

This was written in 2020, and in the four years since this time, I have more to add. Mostly, it’s that growing up also brings a new depth of joy: Joy in family, the joy of hope, and the joy of finding God so involved in my life.