For Family Home Evening, we listed some of the things for which we are thankful… to read in fun 🙂 (Yes, I’m thankful for Lawrence Welk. I watch it every week. My secret is out.)






For Family Home Evening, we listed some of the things for which we are thankful… to read in fun 🙂 (Yes, I’m thankful for Lawrence Welk. I watch it every week. My secret is out.)







What’s better than Thanksgiving itself?
Vacuum lines in the carpet and clean counters bring feelings of anticipation and excitement.
Tomorrow I make pies.
Richard was on the bed, too, until he got up to take the picture. We’re watching Netflix on my computer.
Can’t think of a nicer crowd to hang with after a long day.
This photo was taken of me and Mark several months ago, but I’m pretty sure this is what I looked like last night after a very long and strenuous week. Teaching 3 grades, playing violin for the stake choir, putting on a pack meeting, keeping house, and hauling, lifting, and organizing for the art class on Friday wore me completely out.

Plus, I’ve been reading. Oh, do I have to admit what I’ve sunk my straggly extra minutes into? No, I don’t. But it rhymes with,
(It was such an indulgence that I should have at least bent the spine on the cheap paperback.)
This Saturday is simply over too soon. Errands, shopping, reading and practicing have devoured my plans to clean this house.
And now I’m off to play violin for a crowd. Wish me well.
Lovely. Thank you!
I was listening to the radio on one of the ballet runs this week. The host was reading from some obscure Chinese book written hundreds of years ago about the things that really make us happy. And everything on the list he read was very, very simple and ended in the phrase (translated into English): Is not this happiness?
Here is my version of things that brought me sweet happiness today:
I play a new violin for the first time and my hands and the instrument seem to communicate with each other.
Standing in line at the grocery store, a mother apologizes for her children who are pushing up against me to find candy. I am shopping alone and can afford an extra degree of patience for children who are not my own.
I sit down with my son on the couch after Pack Meeting. He has a paper bag full of awards. I watch him pin each award carefully on his uniform in the soft light from the lamp. He tells me, “This is my favorite shirt,” and, “You helped me earn all of these, Mom.”
Driving home from a long day of errands, I hear my youngest son say, “I’m the luckiest boy in the whole world because I have so many collections!”
Two bags of Mother’s English tea cookies in the pantry.
Is not this happiness?

We have been coloring this chart to show our efforts in family scripture study this year. Each numbered area represents a section of The Doctrine and Covenants. We finished it today!!
Adolescence = Suddenly fearing recognition as an individual while trying to become one.
Recently someone wrote to me and explained that during adolescence the mind starts playing tricks on us and we lose self confidence.
I believe that this loss of self-confidence is the beginning of a more universal malady that lasts long past adolescence. I like to call it the feminine dark side. Not every woman crosses over to the dark side but most do on occasion.
This feminine dark side is the thought process that tells us we don’t measure up.
Self absorbed women love to gossip. Self-absorption is the impetus for feelings of isolation in a crowd. It’s the reason we don’t say “hi” to a stranger in church or take the time to understand someone before we make judgments. It’s the reason we take offense at things someone said. It’s the reason we don’t invite someone into our circle, fooling ourselves with some excuse like, “Her hair is so cute and she is so popular. She would never want to be friends with me.” And the whole thing makes me weary.
Self-absorbed feelings of inadequacy are a counterfeit to the inspired humility required of a disciple of Christ. As a counterfeit, self-devaluation may look and feel like humility for a time. But the counterfeit doesn’t come from a true source and can’t lead us to become better. Humility is a gift of the Spirit which can lead us to improve.
Recently someone asked in fun, “Could Angela just please come out of the house with her hair a mess and her children grumpy?” In short, “Could she put on her worst face for us at least one time so we can feel better about ourselves?”(And, since comment was really said just in fun, I’ll reply in fun, “Honey, if you saw all my flaws, it wouldn’t make you feel better, it would make you cry and then make me dinner out of sheer pity.”)
This line of thinking is flawed in at least two ways. First, anyone who has taken the time to know me has seen my faults. Second, I find it poor logic to equate feeling better about one’s self by rejoicing in the faults of others.
So, no. I’ll keep presenting my best side, because that’s the side I’m nurturing. I’m trying to starve the dark side that worries about what others think of me, because most judgments, good and bad, are inaccurate anyway.
And I’ll keep empowering my daughter to do the same. And that means forgetting ourselves and serving and loving and trying to forget flawed comments such as, “She’s too perfect.”
“Am I too young to pull the car out of the garage by myself?”
I hardly saw Friday coming through the flutter of papers around me this week. Now my task is to escape the laundry room in time to enjoy its possibilities.
And I will try not to ruin the implied rest that Fridays should bring by staying up too late, savoring the freedom. Richard and I will watch a DVD. He’ll want to watch something loud, and I’ll want to watch something with women wearing gowns with empire waists.
I’ll let Richard win because he used his day off to teach two robotics classes and deal with a dying (wild) animal on our back patio.
We’ll crank up huge surround sound speakers and I’ll feed him freshly baked brownies and the frustrations will go away for a while. Richard is my consolation at the end of the week and I feel rewarded by his time spent with me. Richard is the main reason I love Fridays.
Folding laundry now,
A