Category: Life according to Angela

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.

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.

…to describe my feelings about those affected by the earthquake in Haiti. I take comfort in seeing the images of rescuers from so many nations rushing to their aid. I choose to follow the stories that describe the Best in people.

I know prayer makes a difference, too.

We can all be rescuers if we keep our eyes open for the needs of those around us and extend our hearts in prayer and generous giving to those out of our sight. Our influence can span the miles with God’s help.

A year ago I couldn’t have told you what a bluetooth was; today I rejoiced when the bluetooth started working again for Daniel’s robot.

A year ago I said I would never have a blog.

A year ago I was a passive member of my neighborhood homeschool community; this year I am leading it.

A year ago I regretted buying these shoes. I think I like them better now.

It’s amazing what a year can bring.

Tonight a friend called to tell me about the moon rock that is visiting Tucson for 3 days. Yes, you read correctly: a moon rock! One of seven specimens you can touch in the whole world!

She said, “I thought you’d like to know about it because you love to touch things of science and the things of God.”

Zap! That one went right to my heart.

Thanks, Becky. I’m absolutely going to the museum on Monday to touch that moon rock myself. I’ll post pictures!

Yes, I realize I have overused the exclamation point in this post.

It would be nice if I could redo this evening. However, like adolescence, I wouldn’t want to go through any of THAT again, so I guess I’ll just fast forward to tomorrow and hope for better presentation, motives, and methods.

Continuing with the remote control theme, let’s go channel surfing in my brain. *disclaimer* The following thoughts, views, ideas, and expressions are  not to be taken seriously…

*CLICK*

Paige was on the front page of the newspaper today in prima ballerina glory.

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I think Christmas Card giving has all but died. I have heard from a small collection of friends. Our cards remain on the shelf, not quite finished. Maybe I should get back on Facebook so I can receive everyone’s wishes electronically.

*CLICK*

I really don’t want to read about Mao and the Communists tonight… or tomorrow.

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Food drives! Food drives! Food drives!

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Daniel needs a challenge.

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I wonder if the dentist will notice that Timothy’s neck is filthy tomorrow during his appointment.

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This is a test of the emergency broadcast syst—

*DOUBLE CLICK*

(band playing Auld Lang Syne.)

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the value we place on certain things. I don’t think of my time in terms of money. I don’t have a paycheck, so it seems silly to do it. However, if someone talks loudly during one of my violin performances, the time I took to practice and prepare seems wasted and I feel undervalued. I’ve been thinking about value in terms of time management. How should I best spend this next half hour? Should I attend to my writing or should I do the dishes and prepare for company tomorrow? Tonight the sorting and ordering of my thoughts is more valuable.

Time is the currency we use to show what we most value. Some people receive a paycheck for their time; others find other means of assigning value. I like tangible proof that I existed. I don’t have pay stubs, but I keep charts and journals and blogs and I publish my children’s work in a local newsletter every month.

Since writing the title of this post, I’ve veered from course a little. But I want to share my funny story to introduce my final point.

There was a Louis Vuitton purse in my mom’s closet in the 90’s. I think it was a hand-me-down from Aunt Susan. Mom didn’t like the purse, and let me have it. I was looking for a bag that could carry diapers without looking like a diaper bag. I had seen the logo before and figured it must be popular. After carrying it around town for a while, this cavernous purse with no lining or pockets didn’t suit my needs. And it really wasn’t very attractive.

So I donated it to charity along with some worn out clothes.

Later, I learned the “value” of the bag I had thrown away. I felt sorry that I hadn’t realized what the bag had cost; but then I felt silly for worrying about what value the world has placed on an ugly purse with some initials on it.

On a personal level, I’ve learned that feeling valuable is something that shouldn’t be measured by what others think. Being valuable and feeling valued by others are not always going to coincide…Just something to think about as you google the price of a Louis Vuitton bag…

There’s a lot to do; Things that we’re expected to do because it’s Christmas time. There are 4 food drives that I am aware of this week for different groups to which I belong. There are performances and craft activities; dinners to attend and cards to address. I’m still waiting for that Christmas inspiration to ring in my mind, telling me what I need to do to make this Christmas special for our family this year.

I’m pretty sure that special “something” won’t be anything spectacular or expensive.

One year the “thing” was to help purchase a musical instrument for someone.

Another year, it was to sit in at a Mormon Tabernacle Choir rehearsal on Temple Square. That seems like a long time ago.

One year I went into labor in the midst of over 100 donated Christmas gifts and didn’t make it to the hospital in time to deliver. It’s taken nearly 7 years for me to say, “Boy, that was special.” But really, it was, even then. I held my baby extra close that Christmas and the donated gifts made it to their families. And it was unforgettable; A Mary and Joseph moment, even.

Some years, the special “thing” has been to visit our parents. This is the third year my parents are on their mission, so no Spring Lake Christmas for us this year. We may hop in the car after Christmas and visit someone. Who knows? I certainly don’t.

Christmas is saturated with expectations. I don’t care who you are. You just expect to feel a certain way at some point. I am hoping that I haven’t missed an opportunity help create a memorable Christmas for my family with my indecision and busy-ness.

The tree is up and we are healthy. We are thriving. This year, it may not be one “thing” that defines our Christmas. It may be the memory of a summation of warm feelings and peace. But I’d like it to be more. I’d like an element of sacrifice.

The first Christmas gift I gave Richard was a copy of O Henry’s The Gift of the Magi. It sums up my Christmas expectation: The best gifts are those that require sacrifice. And finding the right sacrifice seems more tricky to me when there’s money in the bank. From my abundance, I wish to give until I feel a lack. And I want to teach that to my children. This doesn’t mean that I believe in spending all the savings. It means sacrificing self to make someone else happy.

There’s the rote answer, “Time is the best gift.” I’m looking for something beyond that. I’m looking for something requiring an element of myself that only I can give, which requires more than time or money.

And in the writing of this, I think I have found my answer.

I’ll keep it my little secret for now. Merry Christmas.