Ship, turtle, dragon,
Tucson temple, crayon,
“A”, church, and a saguaro.
Cousin time
Ship, turtle, dragon,
Tucson temple, crayon,
“A”, church, and a saguaro.
Author: Angela
I write so my family will always have letters from home.
Ship, turtle, dragon,
Tucson temple, crayon,
“A”, church, and a saguaro.
A simple, effective activity for Come Follow Me
Last week I prepared an activity using a map of Jerusalem with the final events of Christ’s life. We followed the numbers and looked up scriptures from the Old Testament that prophesied of these events or used language echoed by Gospel writers. “Did not our hearts burn by the way, and while he opened to us the scriptures?” (Luke 24:32) The Savior had to re-frame the events his disciples witnessed that last week so they could see him as the Christ. I don’t know what scriptures he shared with them, but perhaps Psalm 22 and Isaiah 53 were among them. Those two chapters rend my heart.
The scriptures we looked up last night according to the numbers on the map:
- Zechariah 9:9
- Leviticus 14:36
- (skipped)
- Isaiah 53:4, 6, 10-11
- Isaiah 53:7
- Psalm 22:6-8
- Psalm 22:16-18, Psalm 22:1, Psalm 31:5
- Isaiah 53:9
This was one of my favorite activities all year. Simple is still best, and with busy lives, it helps to have a very direct activity instead of a deep discussion sometimes.
Good Days
The definition of a good day expands when I am thankful, and it contracts when I am self-centered. By all measures, narrow and great, I have had some good days this week.
In Spring Lake, I taught a little art class and we made small tile mosaics. I spent time sitting on the porch with my mom and some of my sisters. I walked in the canyon with Richard three evenings this week.
I was a bit starstruck to meet two great historians and authors, Laurel Thatcher Ulrich and Kate Holbrook at a conference. And by “meet,” I mean there a was a conversation about our shirts as we waited for bathroom stalls. Later, “Thank you for your work,” was all I could think to say when I met the Pulitzer Prize winner, but I think that was just right.
What do most of these activities have in common? They were opportunities for me to deal in vast things, such as relationships, possibilities, and nature. They were opportunities to learn from other people. For all the reading and scholarship that I love, there are levels of understanding to be gained only through hearing a person’s voice.
In and Out of Shadow
The relief map of our life right now shows new valleys, a consistent plateau, and several mountains. I move into different landscapes as I am needed and retreat to the backcountry when I must be silent and wait. In my solitude, I assume the role of observer and record keeper.
From a familiar point, I watch our daughter, taking steps on her own path, which is marked by shadow and speckled with obstacles. Frustrated by the turns and boulders, I wonder if she knows that she is still ascending.
A son careens forward on a path without looking one way or the other. Does he actually want to climb that trail? I am not sure he has paused enough to know.
Another son has a blind curve ahead, but has a lift in his steps. I predict the path beyond this curve will be good for him because of his optimism.
And the remaining son, well, I am still close enough to remind him to look at the vistas, and not worry about the details so much.
I am no sage on the hill, but I do know about blind corners, and have skinned my knees when racing too fast. I know the mire of worry from overthinking, and how to escape. I remember what it is like to move beyond easy marks of success, deferring talents and ideas. In such vulnerable times, growth feels a lot like defeat.
I squirm in the solitude in this life season and wonder if a record is worth keeping. I felt inspired to read A Midwife’s Tale this week and it validated my writing of everyday things more than I can say. Our walk continues, and my writing provides a relief map of where we have been.
Headlines of Consequence
Connection and progress happen in the undercurrents of the to do lists and during transit between appointments. The on stage, public displays are a pinnacle, not the mountain we have climbed. They don’t call attention to themselves, but tiny, daily actions are life. Today I elevate some of these menial and plain things and dress them up as headlines:
Late night conversation keeps parenting goals on track.
Work at home issues forth connection and order.
Meal preparation: a rock in the fortress of home, every day
She waited weeks for a convenient time to ask family to move furniture.
A child is struggling? Pray with him.
Camping gear is well traveled.
Mother makes another trip to the store for gear and marshmallows.
Reconciliation evident in non-verbal ways
He often works from home at night to balance high demands of employer and others.
To avoid criticizing someone, mother pulls weeds outside.
Foregoing personal hobbies and family time, Scoutmaster pushes on.
Despite past failures, additional attempts are planned for family spirituality.
Dead, maggot-filled animal buried early this morning in the backyard
Stranded motorist helped by a kind stranger
She kept paper for taking notes.
Entire family commits to watching together a movie only one person will enjoy.
They sat down together at the table.
They took the time they needed to make a plan.
He changed the station again and again without hearing frustration from the driver.
Strength to do dishes and laundry is a blessing.
After years of being too busy, mother helps organize son’s collections.
He remembered to text his mom to let her know where he was.
She smiled instead of criticized.
He practiced each day.
He let his brother stick an earbud in his ear to hear a funny song.
They kept praying together.
Our Teens
Here is how our teens look this week. One is a little sick, and another thanked me for not grounding him for the rest of his life. I thought he had been killed in a car accident for about 20 minutes. It turned out that there was no car accident, just a vague message and misunderstanding. I was so frantic to find him that I drove around town looking for emergency vehicles, expecting the worst. One son is taking care of pigeons for a couple of days for our neighbor and friend. One is off to Pioneer Trek this morning.
I asked Daniel this week, “What have you learned about obedience?” He wrote, “The last 1% in our obedience brings the majority of the blessings. We’ve seen the difference between good days and not so good days.”
I asked Timothy what he learned this week. “Don’t park illegally, ever.”
Mark taught us what he learned from studying in John. “Jesus prayed that our temptations wouldn’t be too much for us and that Heavenly Father would send help.”
I have a firm belief in the power of parents to bring down blessings on their children. These are good boys, and I see the enemy stalks them relentlessly. It feels like we are at war with outside influence. We pray, we teach, remind, use a timer, let them go, and we are here when they come back. This warrior mom has earned a purple heart this week. Two things have helped: reading the Book of Mormon in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep, and watching a Hallmark Christmas DVD.
I love my sons. They are amazing. It’s a heavy time, nevertheless.
6 letters
Last week I made a goal to write six letters, not emails or texts, just old fashioned hand written letters. I wrote to an array of friends and family and it was a good exercise for my dusty pen and neglected stationery. Writing letters is like planting a seed, then moving away, since I can’t see my friends’ faces as they read. Instead, I imagine happy receptions and hopefully a jump within the heart. The best mail carriers place real mail on top of the bills and junk. They know before you do that today you are a winner, because somebody thought to write to you. That has to be one of the sweet things about carrying mail, being in on secrets of the heart.
The Summer Treatment
The posture for May was heads down and knees bent for heavy loads. This last week of school finds me looking up from an appointment book that isn’t bursting out of the margins with the wispy, disconnected thought, “What just happened?”
The spring decorations on the shelves looked weary and a little dusty, so I cleaned and boxed them up. Next March, the same decorations will feel fresh again, and will be a welcome change to close out winter. The reds, whites, and blues are here to replace the pastels, and I have a few new toys to display. I am becoming the kitschy queen. So be it. We survived May, and the ferris wheel seemed an appropriate trophy.
In the high school, teachers turn students loose in the halls early from class, or just let their students play on their smart phones. Tim had one class today where they played Mario Kart. Tomorrow is yearbook day. As I remember, that day seemed so important. It’s the day you hope your friends will write something nice and then you spend a few hours studying each word and comma for meaning, then set the book aside and not look at it again for 30 years. Many of the boys will be unrecognizable in 30 years. The women change less.
Tim and two friends are mowing lawns and landscaping this summer. He will go on Pioneer Trek and a high adventure trip. Mark is going to Scout camp. Richard will camp and camp and camp and fully explore every possibility. I may paint, serve on a jury, and read a biography of George Washington. I may not do any of those things. All I know is that I will meet a lot more people for my church calling and try to remember their names. In the evenings I will turn on the ferris wheel and listen to the children play in the street until their sounds are replaced by the song of crickets and sprinkler systems.
We are ready for the summer treatment.
Pep talk
Today I made a big mistake. I didn’t set out to do it, but as I spoke to someone, my error became so clear that it made my hands shake. I have apologized and will learn from the experience.
I have power in Christ to dispel the shadow cast by a few terrible minutes. I choose to call today powerful in its teaching. I choose to forgive myself. I choose progress over pain. I choose to accept what Christ’s Atonement offers: the ability to move forward. With faith, I will find my smile again.
Home Work
We are moving forward with carpet after nearly seven years in the house. I guess this means we are staying, although we saw a lot more of our families when we lived out of state. Living close to family means we’re everyday relatives, not destination relatives. In fact, we went to St George this weekend and neither we nor anyone else took a single photo. I’m a little sad that I don’t have pictures of the missionary, his pretty mom now out of the hospital, the cousins, the aunts and uncles, and the grandparents who gathered to celebrate his service. We are still treated like destination relatives, but our stays are shorter. I love being present for the big and little things for the extended family, and there are some very sweet memories that I will treasure from this trip that do not require photographs to recall.
May has been its usual busy self. Richard was away from home all but one weekend, I think. The sprinkler system has been down, but the rain has compensated very well. My new church calling has stressed me out, but with each “first” and introduction, I see that things will be fine. The boys have stayed up late. We have still not planted the tomatoes. I don’t remember the last time I mopped the floor. But sometime this summer, there will be soft new carpet in the house, and I have a pretty new plant. The woman at the store who cares for the plants was a little sad that I took it home instead of her. I kind of want to name the plant Shiela. Wait. Did I just share that online?