I look at this wall more than any other because it’s the view from my chair. I spent months identifying why the original gallery wall didn’t make me smile before I got to work fixing it.
Eureka! My eyes like black and white photos with wide white mats. I could give new life to my old frames with a $4 can of spray paint. I didn’t need to display everything I love, just a curated collection. I realized my favorite gallery walls aren’t perfectly symmetrical and they have a variety of sizes of photos. I used Velcro Command Strips so the frames stay in place.
Interior design is something that interests me, and I make all the mistakes as I learn to create beautiful spaces that are pleasing to me. This week: dramatic covers for those neutral pillows.
Things seem apocalyptic in the news, but the narrative at home remains mostly the same: work, school, eat, rest, and play with the dog. I am thankful for a peaceful home.
I have done some work in the family’s bedrooms this week, and this video speaks to the feelings I have as I watch my children’s rooms change as they grow and leave home.
Seven months ago, before the pandemic impacted our lives, I had an idea to create an emotional tool kit, with physical objects to inspire and comfort. I wrote down a list on a post-it note, and began to move the note in my day planner, putting it off for another time. Maybe I was in denial. “Oh, I won’t need this,” or, “If I make it, something will happen that will make me need this.”
Then came new levels of isolation, earthquakes, uncertainty about the evacuation of missionaries, challenges from distance learning in schools, canceled plans, discomfort and disfigurement from abdominal surgery, and the secluded hospital stay. And so on.
I have been comforted, even without my little tool kit, no doubt about that. Still, this week, I remembered that I hadn’t compiled it, and decided it was time. It wasn’t difficult. I gathered things into an old hat box and slid it beneath my bed. Who knows if I will ever use it as I envision I might. If nothing else, it is a time capsule, and a reminder of my faith that comfort can be found in Christ, always.
The objects are small and have personal meaning. Some things are soft; others spur memories; on the bottom of the box are the scripture notes I have taken this year, which follow my 2020 spiritual journey even better than my journal. I tucked in a Michael Buble album that I love.
At times, everyone needs reminders that things are going to be okay.
If you are doing well, share your energy with others. If you are doing poorly, consider handling some physical reminders that Heavenly Father loves you and sent His Son for you. Allow the Spirit to bring joyful things to your remembrance. (John 14:26)
I challenge you not to raise the pitch of your voice as you comment on the cuteness of these mini Jeeps.
Tim and Daniel have some new projects. Tim bought a mini jeep, and Daniel claimed a free piano. At the appearance of the mini jeep, our next-door neighbor said incredulously, “Another vehicle?”
Daniel is gutting the old piano to make an electric keyboard desk with speakers, lights, and a place to put a computer. One night in the garage, he removed all the keys but those from a jazz chord progression so he and Mark could do some improv, worry-free, since only the notes they needed were available.
Tim installed more lights on the jeep and ordered a pretty fine helmet and *chrome* goggles to wear as he drives. He offers rides around the neighborhood to our family.
These guys teach me new levels of fun and creativity.
I have decided to shift the way I think and talk about school restrictions and realities for our kids. This is not a time to paint our children as victims, but a time to help them know they can be resilient. Just imagine how much stronger these kids can be because they have been challenged to find new ways of connecting, finding fun, and working to become educated. I think we can remind them they are stronger than they know, especially as they rely upon God. We can look for possibilities more than limitations, because new ideas await. This is a time for creativity and resilience!
On this cloudy monsoon afternoon, we hope that we might get more than three drops of rain, the exact number we saw fall yesterday in similar circumstances. Our grass and trees cry out in newly pale shades of green, hastening yellows, and crusty browns. I move around the hose and sprinkler to dry spots throughout the day.
Inside, the washing machine whirrs and sometimes rattles along. Its noise is the accompaniment to most late mornings and early afternoons. I don’t “hear” the noise, but Richard surely does, and tries, in vain, to keep the door to the mudroom closed.
This week, we are having a full-house fan installed for better ventilation. My sense of smell hasn’t diminished like my sight and hearing. I am hopeful that the fan will help improve what I will call, “air quality.” Richard is hopeful that cool night air can be fanned in, lowering our electric bills.
I read through old notebooks filled with church notes last week while I waited in the car during Mark’s piano lessons. I always felt the notes were helpful during the week following church, but I never guessed how comforting they would be when church was taken away. Some weeks, I took great notes. Other times, I didn’t make a connection with a speaker. I have my favorite leaders and speakers, for sure. Reading their quotes and my impressions as they speak is a way I stay connected to them.
A trigger for memories of this pandemic will be the smell of my laundered fabric mask as I put it on before shopping. I don’t mind wearing a mask at all, as long as I don’t go overboard with too many filters inside.
These are things I am thinking about:
WHAT in are we going to do about high school this year? We have a freshman and a senior. We have endless options, including (gasp) the option of teaching the school curriculum at home for full credit. We are living in the Twilight Zone.
I CANNOT sit another day in the living room without moving around some furniture.
I think I will read another hefty biography. The Theodore Roosevelt trilogy is calling to me. It must be all the Blue Bloods that Richard and I have watched during the pandemic. When you know, you know.
I’ve been focusing on preparing food, really good food, to serve my family. It’s gone almost this quickly, so I keep cooking nearly every day, every day, every day. It’s a big part of my life. Good job, me.
Eight years ago today I walked into this house for the first time. This is how it looks this afternoon.
Over the course of eight years, we have painted almost every surface, ceilings, walls, doors, and trim. Only two weeks ago, Daniel and I finished painting the last two interior doors. Every plumbing fixture has been replaced, and we have added a water softener, radon fan, and humidifier. We’ve planted seven trees. We’ve lived, studied, practiced piano and violin, graduated from high school and college, moved away from home, gotten married, served a mission, hosted meetings and gatherings, and knelt most nights in prayer from this home base. It doesn’t look like a HGTV home and I love it.
This was the week we were to be in Washington DC with our boys. I can’t say I wish we were there, based on current events, but we will make it back someday. If I were there in happier circumstances, I would sit on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial for a long time and seek some wisdom. I would give quiet pause to those represented by monuments and memorials. I would savor this view of the Potomac from Mount Vernon, and express gratitude for the founders’ sacrifices which we should honor, and for their vision we are still working to realize. Since I am home, I am doing other work to understand the issues of this time.
Last week, the power went out for an hour in the evening, just as I was about to cook something. I was so bothered by this inconsequential, silly inconvenience, and I can’t explain why this little thing toppled me when I have been adapting and adapting just like everyone else to changes of plan.
I realized I needed to make a list of joyful things I could do when plans fall through, as they continue to do. Most ideas didn’t require electricity or money. I have discovered that I have many projects waiting in boxes and shelves, sown with great intention, but without a harvest. I try to do a few joyful things each day, but really, being able to stand and make dinner, or clean a bathroom is a blessing after being out for so many weeks. I do miss conversations with women, yet I can’t make myself do anything about it, and when I am with people, I wilt. I am out of practice and out of so many people’s lives. I am doing the best I can, just like you, although our lives might look different. Here are two small things from my joy list:
I’ve had this unopened Ikea greenhouse for at least 3 years, and it took 10 minutes to put together to make a display case for my grandmothers’ teacups. 😍
We collected these tiles from the old round house in Spring Lake. I removed decades of hard water deposits from them, a project I have put off for 6 years. They are so pretty!
I have kept the twinkle lights in our windows since Christmas time, one of the best purchases I ever made. Slowly, I pick up projects again, and watch some movies in the long afternoons. Embroidery, simple coloring projects, and reading are also ways I pass the time, and it’s better when someone plays the piano in the background. The pianist in the video is Timothy. This scene is one of my versions of heaven.
I awake to morning light dancing through the leaves of trees. I end the day with small lights against dark sky, all good things.
General Conference with everyoneOur friend’s name was read during General Conference. We raised our hands high to sustain him.movie buddy
I pinch myself sometimes to see all the boys home.
Easter activity with the Sanchez family
Easter dinner: pulled pork, baked beans, homemade rolls, layered green salad“Spelling” games from Easter candy 🤭walk
recovering from surgery
Stake Council Zoom meeting, hearing a missionary report
I didn’t post much about family life in April. Days are smudged in my memory, all about the same. Sundays we gathered for dinner and to watch old home movies. Richard worked an unconscionable demand of hours, mostly from home, thankful to be employed. I have watched the clock for entertainment since my surgery, content to do almost nothing. We watched a movie almost every evening. Daniel has been a primary care giver to me, and we have had some good talks. Tim has worked outdoors, mowing and aerating, and has been faithful in completing school work. I learned quickly that I should not ask him about school. He manages his life like a boss. Mark was most content to be home, with days uncluttered by middle school nonsense. He talks through each assignment aloud, frustrations and triumphs sounding in my ears. We have eaten more takeout than usual, hoping to keep our favorite restaurants alive. Also, friends have provided a lot of meals since my surgery. I finished reading The Lord of the Rings trilogy and watched the movies. That was a good choice. April was the best and the worst. I know you can relate.
