Jesus Christ – Page 21 – Letters from Home

Goals

It’s Monday and I have been searching for my goals for the week. Sometimes the goals are obvious and simple and are a natural fit for scheduled events. Sometimes, like this week, I have shallow goals about rearranging furniture that I will keep on the list, but they don’t deserve to be a main focus for the week.

I have three goals that I keep thinking about, but continue to push away. In fact, I haven’t written them down yet because I don’t like them. One is that I know I need to invite this person to walk with me one day this week. Next, I know I need to contact an isolated friend who I have not shown up for in a long time. The last is that I ache to play my violin.

Cue the voices of doubt,

But she will probably not want to walk with me because I am old and I don’t think she likes me.

It’s too late, what can I possibly do to make up for lost opportunities?

I just want comfort this week of high school graduation, not growth.

I will never be able to sustain the practice I need to improve on the violin.

If I say I want to have an open correspondence with God, I need to listen when He speaks to me so I am fluent in His language. Above all, I want to be trusted with His work. Here are some ways that I have come to recognize God’s voice:

The instruction is simple. It’s not usually a full step-by-step plan, but a thought or idea with a simple statement such as, “Invite her to go on a walk this week.”
The idea persists. I can’t neglect it without knowing I am failing to live my best life.
The idea is sometimes accompanied by emotion.
The idea is something that will make me happy.

I guess this week is to be about courage and people and growth, not just comfort. I am changing my list. Thanks for helping me sort this out.

♥️,

Recognition

Effort in life is not always recognized. Sometimes it’s because the work is behind the scenes, or people are too busy to take the time to say something. Sometimes it’s because people see the work as effortless or habitual and they take it for granted. A very few see effort and turn to jealousy. Most people, though, are simply not aware.

Dr. Barbara Morgan Gardner, a religious educator said,

Worthwhile effort is often only perceptible to those who have put forth similar effort. This is true for any topic, whether it be calculus, home economics, or whatever the work is. People who put forth significant effort recognize somebody else who has put forth that effort.
Barbara Morgan Gardner, from an address given at the 2020 BYU LDS Educators Society Conference, featured in the McKay Today School of Education magazine, Spring 2021.

When we are young and developing talents, there are many ways to find recognition for our work. Mentors are everywhere. Eventually, there comes a time when that begins to turn. We become the mentors. This, too, takes effort, but there is little recognition here.

This quote led me to think about the Savior’s efforts. I exist in his efforts, as if in water, yet I don’t know the depth of that water. I hope I am growing in my recognition of what he has done for me.

I recommend this book.

This book has thoughtful, Christ-centered writing and beautiful watercolor illustrations. It doesn’t have the usual jargon that Christian books use, and the author is sincere in telling her personal journey. Bible verses are hand-written and come from a variety of translations, which I found helpful. Peace settled within me as I read this book. It’s beautiful enough to keep on your coffee table and full of wisdom. I loved it.

Ward conferences 2021

The stake presidency and I made a video for children to watch during ward conferences this year. I wrote here a few months ago when we recorded it that I forgot to put on my shoes. 🤦 Leadership via Zoom and YouTube requires a lot of ego strength because it’s rare to get any feedback. On this last day of ward conference season, I am grateful to have witnessed the efforts from church leaders to help every person feel loved.

One Sunday a few months ago, I knocked on a door of a Primary leader on the day of her ward conference. Inside the house, children scurried to the door and I could hear their voices. “Mom! It’s the Primary president!” I was in a mask. This was not a family I knew. But the little girl had watched the video and could recognize me. One promise given to me when I was set apart in this calling was that children would feel the Savior’s love through my ministering. As ward conferences come to an end, and I have not been able to minister face to face with the children this year, I hope there are many who recognized the Savior’s love in our little video for them. I will probably never know, but that’s the way it is with most service. You stretch, try, and trust, then repeat. And sometimes you rush to the goal and forget to put on your shoes.

another screenshot of the video we made for the children

Happy 12th Birthday to the Blog

Here we are on Easter. There is Richard who spent the day preparing food in his smoker, wearing one of his many blood donation shirts. I rushed into the day without thinking about doing my hair (typical), but tried to set the table beautifully and have a clean kitchen. Mark wears his favorite color and will go on to eat more than anyone sitting at this table. Tim teases us with the BYU shirt and remains mysterious about his plans for the future. I’ll add that he is so strong from his landscaping work. I notice that Daniel is wearing a new version of the teal and white shirt he loved and wore all through high school and his mission. He’s almost finished with his first year at BYU, and his friend, the lovely McKenna joins us at the table. Paige is effortlessly elegant and happy, and has spent the last year since graduating from BYU settling into working as a freelance illustrator. And there is handsome, hardworking, and smart Michael, who changed jobs this year and is enjoying more sleep (even in April… he’s an accountant).

The blog is less about our children than it used to be, but they remain the ones who occupy our thoughts and conversations. They are still the focus of our energy and time, and when they linger at Sunday dinner as they did this week, I can draw from that happiness for a long time.

Some of you have read this blog from the beginning. There are 1,919 posts in the archives. I owe you a diploma or something, not that I have anything figured out except perhaps how to muster a tiny bit of faith. To each reader, whether you have read for years or months, I send my love to you.

Adventure stories

Easter weekend is here. The Sanchez family has been busy getting ready for the memorial for my grandmother. Mixed in with music practice, writing her life sketch, and other things, I have been editing pages of my dad’s memoir of his growing up years playing in the hills. Paige finished the illustrations for the last pages. Our goal was to finish by Easter, and we have done it. His book is a cross between The Hobbit, John Wayne Westerns, and Hardy Boys mystery books.

At times, it has been an escape to work on these stories. We included a map in the book. I think this is one of my favorite illustrations she did. The blog can’t do it justice.

We are celebrating being alive, celebrating those who have passed away, and celebrating the Savior’s Resurrection this weekend in the sunshine.

I have been in a fog and suspended by grief most of February and March. On Saturday we were moving through the carwash and for a short time, everything came to a halt. It was like the car was doing a reenactment of our experiences of the month. We were stopped, uncertain of the future, anxious, blind to what was ahead, and unable to do a thing about it. I know I was alive during these past weeks, but I don’t remember much. Also, when I say I felt grief, along with some sadness, I physically ached. I have had a few better days recently, and my explanation is grace. Some people might give credit to “time.” I still say it is grace. Time seems meaningless right now, but God’s help is tangible.

On the docket

Spring and winter have been at war all week. Sun and snow, wind and mild. Even our daffodils have hung their heads a bit in the fray. I went for a walk one afternoon that made my eyes water and my ears ache for the bitterness of the elements. But we must keep moving, keep our heads up (not just talking about the daffodils), and hope for the Easter weekend of our dreams. Next week, my siblings and parents will be gathering for the first time since Paige’s wedding in December 2019. We (and the world) could use some togetherness. So, let’s all hope for sunshine so we can stay outside for long talks as we watch our families hunt for Easter eggs.

On the docket for this weekend:

Get back to weekly scripture appointments with a friend.

Begin our family Easter study.

Make more edits for my dad’s book.

Read more from these books: My Antonia, Theodore Rex, and Dusk, Night, Dawn.

Make more guacamole.

Identify the function of each room of the house so I can tweak the design to reflect this season of our lives. I think I want to move the bookshelves to a completely different area of the house. This plan may also include getting rid of the elementary school science supplies, I don’t know.

Perform a scented candle intervention for this house.

Thanks, steady friends. I saw significant traffic on the post I wrote about fear, another evidence that sharing experiences is one of the important things we need to do. We are getting through these times together, despite distance.

Most of these are gifts from my children. They are tiny and sit inside an heirloom glass case at my kitchen window.

179 years old

As I drove past the church parking lot on an errand, I saw that my neighbor wrestled to manage a plastic tablecloth in the wind. The balloons, color coordinated for a Relief Society birthday party, knocked around perilously, and I wondered if they would still be there when the outdoor-socially-distanced-grab-a-cupcake-and-visit safely-party began. When I arrived twenty minutes later, there were just a few women, masked and shivering along the sidewalk, enduring the cold for connection. A sister I love noticed me and held my arm and inquired, for real, how I was doing. Later, another sister said she heard I had been through a hard time. Then she listened, just listened.

I had to leave quickly, but I am glad for the ten or fifteen minutes I shared with my friends. I know that in those minutes, two friends gave something vital to me. I was the only one there with church keys, so I was able to open the building for the women to take shelter from the wind. As I write this, I remember what Mark said when I told him the story, “Mom, you and your Relief Society hijinks.” Beyond the “rebellion” of a few women sheltering inside the church during a pandemic in order to talk for a few minutes, I would say Relief Society has always been about helping women and families come inside from the wind. Happy birthday, Relief Society.