Author: Angela

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

Loss of a friend

A friend passed away last night after a battle with cancer. I met her soon after moving here with her cute flipped hair and 3 beautiful children. I will never have the right words to say to her family and very close friends who are grieving.

We made a card for her on Friday; a card that she will never read. Last night as I cleaned the kitchen at bedtime I thought about her and felt such peace and gratitude that she graced my life. This was just before the call came that she passed away. I like to think that friends who pass away are allowed say their good-byes to us, although we are unaware of their presence except for a gentle comfort that comes to our hearts. I am grateful for the continual source of peace and comfort, our Savior Jesus Christ. “Surely he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.”

It was a confusing night; I think I fell asleep in the middle of a prayer, only to awaken every other hour to continue that prayer for her family… and for all those who love her.

Good-bye, Tracy. I’ll make sure your children always feel loved when I see them.

No, we didn’t buy mouse ears

… but we had a swell time.

We never got a picture all together, but we enjoyed one day with everyone well enough to be there.

Daniel, our most adventurous boy, went on everything. Twice.

Paige had a good time, too, and was so helpful.

Timothy had a rough start on a terrifying ride, but overcame his fears and loved the rides as long as they didn’t plunge too suddenly into a dark abyss.

This was our first trip to Disneyland. Now, maybe it’s because I am adult, but these were some observations I just couldn’t reconcile in my mind:

A grandmother on the Dumbo ride; all by herself,

Mouse ears on grown-ups,

Reservations to eat with the Princesses are required 18 months in advance????

Darth Vader and Disney,

Leaving a stroller full of our belongings and not really worrying about theft,

LOVING the It’s a Small World Ride and WANTING to see Princess Aurora.

Being sentimental, I teared up as soon as I saw all the kids on a ride together, but in my haste to hide the tears, I brushed sunblock into my eye and then I really had something to cry about. It was a day of contradictions. I was amused at the childhood played out by adults, but succumbed to it myself in the end. And even though I didn’t see Princess Aurora, Paige bought me an Aurora pin on the second day I stayed home with Mark. The poor boy had an ear infection in each ear.

Connection

Today I moved through e-mails and personal interactions in awe of the connections that have blessed my life since moving here. So many of those women who have been my companions and confidantes surrounded me today at a small party for our homeschool group.

One friend lost her mother to cancer last week and we talked on the playground with tears and some laughter, too. One friend paid me back for something and five minutes later I handed the money to another friend who lost her wallet today and needed to buy gas. We exchange ideas and inspiration and books. These generous women enrich my life and make my children happy with their kindness.

And last, but most tender, another friend struggles in the hospital today and we carefully pray for her. And for her family. And all those who love her.

I came home to two letters. One from each of my grandmothers. I feel embraced, understood, and comforted today through the lives and kindness of so many women.

Quick post: We’re home!

We’re home! We brought home antibiotics! We stayed up late talking and watching the Cranberry ladies movies (or whatever they are called). I finished a 760 page book! We all made it to Disneyland eventually. Thanks for visiting the blog. If you dear people lived closer I could tell you all kinds of juicy details over the fence and you’d hear me lapse into 19th century English, complete with accent, as one does when one watches and reads what I have lately.

When life deals you lemons

We are sick with a cold that we have evaded for 8 months. A despicable, nefarious cold that waited to get us when we tried to venture to Disneyland.

The missionaries are out speaking and teaching. We’re here eating chips and sneezing. Here are some photos of our day.

4 lemons. I named them Paige, Daniel, Timothy, and Mark…not because my children are sour but because these lemons are beautiful.

We carry this friend around with us to ease our sore throats and coughs. Timothy played chess on my computer most of the day.

Here’s your reminder that Mormon missionaries are awesome.

Daniel collected berries in the backyard.

A treasure that I remember from the old days.

My sick little boy, smiling despite the trouble in his respiratory tract.

He stayed close to me most of the day; here he is snoozing on my shoulder again.

I keep finding things that remind me how my dad loves my mom. I won’t tell you the name of her listing on his cell phone, but it’s darling.

Dreams encapsulated

…in wood and psychedelic designs. No, Richard, I don’t need help with the camera. I want the photo to look like this.

We just need a coat of poly and the precious wheels with their polished surfaces and flawless axles. This car is poetry.

Speaking of poetry, Daniel wrote a Pinewood Derby Sonnet last spring. I share it with you now to bring you into our circle of anticipation:

Pinewood Derby Sonnet

The shining pinewood racing cars lined up,
In anxious silence racers waited there,
They were all thinking of the derby cup,
The happy talk and brownies they would share,
The wooden cars zoomed down the gleaming track,
The cars pulled close together then they tied,
The winning cars were hung up on the rack,
Results came in; with Joy the people cried,
With happy hearts the winners shook the hands
Of disappointed boys who lost the race,
With joy the people shouted in the stands,
There was a smile on everybody’s face,

In years to come our sportsmanship will keep;

In days to come, true happiness we’ll reap.

~Daniel Ross

Mark’s little red boy

Mark drew his first person yesterday. He started with the legs and feet. Then he did the head and the arms. He used a red pencil, of course.

I taught Mark’s class at church yesterday, but he was the only one who showed up. We had a lovely time, sitting in the sunlight coming in from the window. We molded playdough, sang songs about prayer, and learned the story of Daniel and the lion’s den.

My baby is a big boy. Mine is a sweet kind of ache, though.

Perseverance.

I remember 3 things from this movie: raw eggs, raw meat, and the above scene The mornings this week have been as painful as Rocky’s. Can’t. Get. Up. Mark. Couldn’t. Sleep. Again. Perseverance was the theme this week. There was no lofty goal but to get those hours of school accomplished. I stand atop my own 72 steps, knowing the children haven’t been neglected academically (or ahem, socially, my concerned critics). In celebration, I’ve been thinking the Rocky theme song because Friday was here and the end was in sight…

The end of talking about the Babylonian empire;

The end of talking about the Cuban Missile Crisis;

The end of Lessons 70 in Math 65 and Algebra I and subtraction without regrouping;

The end of high and low pressure systems, clouds, and wind currents; pollination and seed development;

The end of trying to stay ahead of voracious readers and preparing study questions;

The end of juggling the needs of a 3 year old with the needs of all the others.

The books are put away in the school room; the birthday presents are purchased; anything I do now will just put me in the black for next week’s schoolwork. I hope your weekend is as bright with possibilities as ours looks tonight.

Forgotten Letter

I found this unfinished letter in a box a couple of nights ago. Despite its personal nature, I am sharing it… because it’s positive, and we all need something positive to read these days.

Here’s my mother and me, still becoming acquainted:

April 2004

Dear Mom,

You are so many things to me. I’ve been thinking about my favorite memories and qualities I have seen in you.

First, a list of memories of you as my mother:

Music…always
You read so many books to me.
You rescued me from the dogs on the way to elementary school.
You rolled my hair into curlers so I would be pretty.
You made me eggnog when I was sick and spaghetti when it was my birthday.
You sewed outfits for me… a favorite shirt with an angel patch.
You helped me learn to ride a bike and roller skate and perform at my recitals.
You listened and participated in my concerts.
You used every resource you had to pay for music lessons.
You were my chauffeur.
You left sweet notes for me (I kept them all) at my bedside.
You bought me pop tarts and Carnation [instant] breakfasts for early morning breakfasts in high school.
You went on orchestra tour with me to Cedar City.
You helped me pick out a prom dress.

~end~

Here are a few more things that I would like to add, 6 years later:

You kept your kitchen clean. I could hear you doing the dishes at night after I was in bed.

I always had clean clothes to wear.

You worked to help me find friends that were good for me.

I need to mention books again. I remember all of the children draped over the sofa beside you, behind you, and around you while you read to us. You were always ready to read to us.

You were a good Scout wife. I remember when Dad went to Wood Badge for about a week and it was hard, but you were brave. I wondered why those little beads were so small. They represented a lot of time for Dad and for you. You went to the Scout office, packed for the campouts, shopped, sewed, attended, and cheered.

You were in the PTA… always.

You went to our Parent Teacher conferences.

You helped me write my talks for church.

You went to the temple with Dad.

You were always thinking about the youth from church; a confidante to many young women.

At registration day (i.e. Pay Us day) at high school, you paid for the yearbook and other fees and I just felt so grateful.

You picked me up from my college dorm one day along with 6 loads of laundry that I had accumulated and helped me get back on top of my life.

When Richard and I were sick at Westwind, you did our laundry for us.

You seemed to know when I was sick or in need. You showed up one day at my apartment and found me suffering from a very bad cold. You took me home and made me breakfast.

You gave me a copy of the cute handouts you made for the young women at church. I kept that “Master in Charge” card for ages.

You were so excited to be a grandmother, you brought me (& future baby) presents while I was still in labor.

You took care of me for each surgery and birth… 7 lengthy visits.

You drove me to the airport when I left Utah 12 years ago.

Your voice is what I hear as I read the scriptures. So many verses you have put to music…

You were 20 when I was born. I’m so glad.

You gave up school so Dad could finish. You gave up school again to go on a mission.

Of course there is so much more I can say. But at least I am saying something and not laying it aside like I did 6 years ago.

I love you.

~A