Category: Life according to Angela

Hellooooo out there

A photo from my first blog post in 2009. Tim and Mark were enjoying cupcakes in our yard in Arizona.

It takes time and dedication to maintain a blog, and I’ve been doing this for nearly 14 years.

Reasons I enjoy writing the blog:

  • It has proven to be a good record of family life.
  • It is a place to develop ideas.
  • It is a place to express some creativity and sharpen my writing.
  • It gives some validation for my life.

Things that are difficult about it:

  • It is a one-sided conversation, whether I allow comments or not, and sometimes this heightens my feelings of isolation.
  • Most of our kids are out of the house, so its focus has shifted from our adventures to my thoughts. (Scary.)
  • Some of the most important people in my life no longer read it. (Ouch.)
  • I am growing more private about my thoughts.

When life changes so fundamentally as it has for us during the past few years, the old routines need to change. This blog has been my longtime playground and I would like to find a way to enjoy it again in new ways.

Love,

A

Best wishes to our girl

Paige and Michael drove away this morning to live in a new state with all our best wishes and love. She has lived away from home for nearly 8 years, but seeing her room without furniture feels like a final toll of a bell. Today they face a fresh beginning while perhaps we see more evidence of an ending. It is a good, terrible day.

Good job, all of us.

Surprise!

For my Christmas gift, Richard secured a ticket to an Itzhak Perlman concert that was supposed to be tonight. There weren’t two seats available, just one, so he bought the ticket for me. He also insisted on driving me to and from the concert, despite not being able to attend. I filled my pockets with tissues so I could cry as I heard Mr. Perlman play the violin.

But I didn’t meet my violin hero tonight; I met a religious hero instead.

There were a few of us who didn’t get the memo that the concert had been rescheduled, and we congregated at the doors of the music hall in our fine clothes, each showing disbelief in our own way. One of the people was Jean Bingham, former Relief Society General President. Her presence is beautiful and so bright. My interaction with her made me feel that the night wasn’t a loss.

This is my favorite image of Sister Bingham during her presidency. It shows her cheering for missionaries who came home during the early days of 2020. She was a light to me during this confusing time, and I took this screenshot to remember the impact she made on my heart and mind. In many instances, she showed she was a worthy hero during the pandemic.

Thinking is work

So wrapped up in my thoughts, I misread the clock yesterday and made dinner very early. With my extra evening hours, I redecorated the shelves to embrace February, ready or not.

It is ward conference season and I am thinking a lot about my stake speaking assignments and ministering to very different needs among the wards. I am thinking about Paige and Michael’s move, and I am on the hunt for all the places I can display Paige’s art. Thinking is work. Writing talks and lesson plans is work. Planning is work, and so is settling into a new reality. When I accomplish something tangible, like cleaning out a closet or desk, I call it a nice break from the more arduous and intangible work going on within. Thinking is work.

Winter nest

It is winter proper; cold weather, such as it is, has come to stay. I bloom indoors in winter like a forced forsythia; I come in to come out. At night I read and write, and things I never understood become clear; I reap the harvest of the rest of the year’s planting.

Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

This was a paragraph that I read today and continue to think about. I, too, like the winter habits of reading, being still, thinking, and writing. I can flourish in dark winter as long as I have reminders that I have friends out there.

This afternoon I hung a very large magnetic board to display handwritten notes and some art. You’re right, it isn’t arranged very well yet, but we’re on our way to something good.

Painting from life

Paige and Michael are moving out of state in a few weeks, and we have spent some time sorting her college art projects to consolidate the things she wants to take or leave behind. She is a skilled illustrator, and she also has a healthy collection of portraits and figure drawings that I admire. She agreed to let me keep some of these. But how do I choose?

I will always be thrilled to display my children’s work, no matter their age.

Chasing sunlight

We had some dreary days this week, again. I chased sunlight by working with gold and yellow thread and spending an afternoon with a friend.

I chased it by reading a novel by Amor Towels, a favorite author.

I chased it by listening to a new piece of classical music every day. (See the book, Year of Wonder by Clemency Burton-Hill.)

I found sunlight as I wrote out a story from my dad’s life.

I found it as I studied about the mission of John the Baptist. (See The Life and Teachings of Jesus Christ From Bethlehem to the Sermon on the Mount, edited by Richard Neitzel Holzapfel and Thomas Wayment.)

This week, rather than put away the Christmas cards, I hung them on an empty wall in my kitchen where they will stay. The faces on the cards feel like sunlight to me.

MLK weekend

Mark assembled our new furniture because he is awesome.

Use me, God. Show me how to take who I am, who I want to be, and what I can do, and use it for a purpose greater than myself.

Martin Luther King Jr.

We are experiencing a fullness of living, with its challenges, loss, connections, fun, and opportunities to serve. Have I cried this week? Oh, yes. I have also laughed, worked, and tried to repair my mistakes. In my daily journal of God’s tender mercies, I wrote during a particularly difficult time last week that my family was a great comfort. Because of them, I had hope for a softer, gentler time ahead. It came as our older children gathered for Sunday dinner and we talked about the influence of a good friend who passed away. It came as we listened to Tim talk about his missionary work and show an interest in his siblings. It came as Richard, Mark, and I spent all weekend together, living.