Category: Life according to Angela

Artistic journaling

I have discovered traveler notebooks, which are groups of notebooks for different subjects held together inside a leather cover, and artistic journaling, which for me is just putting stickers, photos, and Washi tape on the pages of a journal before I write. This is how I am going to keep track of the Lord’s tender mercies this year. So far, I have one book for daily gratitude and one book for church notes, all inside one cover. I have kept small notebooks for different topics for years. Having them held together inside one cover seems really smart.

YouTube has a lot of artistic people showing how to create such things. It’s really relaxing for me to watch videos of people journaling. Yes, there are videos you can watch of a person writing in and decorating her journal. Highly recommended.

My basic traveler notebook was $9.99 at Michaels, and the cover is a soft coral leather and it comes with two notebooks, about 4×9 inches each, and a pocket folder for holding brochures or maps. I use the folder to hold photos and stickers. I think I will add another notebook to keep track of my ideas for writing.

I plan to leave a library of notebooks, journals, albums, and stories behind. Also, decorative plates and miniature things.

The patience of hope and the labor of love

…And our talents improve, by the patience of hope and the labor of love…

Come Let Us Anew, Hymn #217

I spent the week after Christmas gathering, archiving, reminiscing, writing, and creating. The Christmas packaging is *mostly* cleaned up, but not really. Fabric needed to be put away after both hasty and long projects, so I did that. My biggest and most precious project of the week was to compile the cards and letters I received this year. I read each word again, and studied the list I made of kind acts people did for us, then placed them in a book. My 2020 was not fun, not hardly a bit, but I cherish it, and the people who helped me.

My goals from last year were completed as best I could, with great amendments made to expectation. I had enough clarity to respond to nagging thoughts about gathering more food and some other things in February that made the early days of the pandemic much easier. In my review of lists and journals and all those things I keep, I see how I was guided and carried and loved.

My goals for the year are rarely completed just as I imagine, but I make new goals anyway, so I am moving forward. I can hear God’s voice better when I am working on goals.

Today I begin taking down the trees and garlands, wreaths, and bows. It is grim work, but sparkly handmade snowflakes are ready to fill empty spaces and reflect light. I want to remember that I had energy and health enough to give in every way I wished this 2020 Christmas. God is good, even when we are unhealthy and struggling, and it is such a blessing to eat a simple breakfast, laugh with a friend, hear beautiful music, be cherished by a loved one, and to see the changes in seasons. I am hopeful change is coming in terms of public health, but I am ready to wait for it for a long time, and grow as I wait.

Advent Day 2

This December, my Advent theme is Hope. It’s my plan to share something each day leading up to Christmas.

Wherefore, we search the prophets, and we have many revelations and the spirit of prophecy; and having all these witnesses we obtain a hope, and our faith becometh unshaken.

Jacob 4:6

This photo of President Nelson inspires me. I think searching the scriptures has been the most important way I have found hope. In this practice, I try to be as faithful as a prophet. When the kids were younger and finding time to read the scriptures was harder, or now, in an emergency, I try to close my eyes and recite a scripture in my mind when I can’t read. The scripture I recite most often is Psalm 19:7. I memorized it in high school, and have repeated it on the most challenging days for 30 years. It’s the closest thing I have to a mantra.

Gratitude of a child

One day after a surgery about 20 years ago, someone gave me a gratitude journal. It made me frustrated to even look at it, and I gave up after a couple of tries. It wasn’t part of my routine yet to show gratitude regularly. What I want to say is that even though gratitude is the answer, and was the answer to my trials 20 years ago, it is a skill that must be learned and practiced. After surgery 20 years ago, I wasn’t equipped to benefit from a gratitude journal, simply because my attitude was wrong and I wasn’t habitually grateful. The power of gratitude in my life has come with time and intentional effort. True gratitude drives out negativity. I believe the gratitude God is talking about in His commandment is childlike in its simplicity, broad in its understanding, and ultimately makes us see the His hand in our lives.

Sometimes I get gratitude all wrong. It takes time to understand what is really going on here: every day is Christmas morning and we are the children walking into the room, discovering the gifts that have been given. Will I run to the Giver of the gifts quickly, or will I drag my feet in acknowledging the gift, or worse, not even notice something?

Sure, many times there is a gift sitting there not on my “list,” and it might take some time to find the right place for it. Other gifts are so beautiful, it’s easy to see He loves me. Some gifts take time to put together, and that is okay that I don’t see the end as I work through the mess. And there are the gifts that are so predictable that I hardly notice them. The gift of gratitude brings back childlike wonder, submissiveness, and joy not just in the gifts, but in the process of discovering the gift disguised in difficulty or routine. For those complex gifts with lots of moving parts to assemble, I have learned that I can show gratitude when I find individual pieces that fit, not just the finished product.

Have you seen the videos of parents wrapping simple things such as a banana or a spoon, and filming he children’s reactions when the gifts are opened?

“A banana! Look, I got a banana!” (Child runs around the house waving his banana and showing everyone his new banana) This kid is my hero. This is step one: delight in whatever is there.

Step two is to seek the Giver and connect with Him. This is when the really good stuff happens.

Current strategies

uninstalled all my news apps

disabled my Facebook account

to do lists written in pencil

vitamins

“How can I help?” instead of, “I suggest…”

not curling this hair that was created to be straight

heirlooms on display everywhere

fairy lights in the windows

a more democratic kitchen

not planning gatherings, just pastimes

While Covid-19 Rages

We’re all home again because case counts are too high at the high school and in the state. Mark has ordered a new game. Tim works on his Fiat in the garage. I read, continue to rearrange these shelves for a change of scenery, and make people paint peg dolls with me. Richard’s employer is demanding a lot of overtime, so we don’t see much of him, but he is here at the house, too.

Shedding

Only children take seriously the first October snow. Grownups know that early snow is a bit of a tease. Look, it’s nothing, it melts as it hits the asphalt. Today, this November snow is no tease. It seems like an iron door, swinging shut against the light of fall. Gold is out, silver is in. White crayons on black construction paper couldn’t be farther from the truth of a late afternoon winter snow. The clouds seem to be a blank, universal color, but which one? Purple? Steel gray? They are not white, but their feathers are.

So much shedding from something so still as a cloud.

I sorted my house last week, accompanied by stillness and my own thoughts. I shed many things, mainly childhood supplies we no longer need, which the self-assured young mothers in my life do not want. My heart is a nebulous gray as I shed the trappings of young motherhood, feathery memories floating in the air all around me as I fill bags and boxes. The act, like a silent winter storm, is terrible and beautiful. Objects of every color and memories of every shade, so many that it only feels blank and cold when the sorting is over and the shelves are bare. White.

Mood.

i get this way as i approach my birthday. It’s the most dependable melancholy of the year. i take time to own the mistakes and regrets of the year, the missed opportunities, the losses, and gains.

i lost nearly a tenth of myself in weight since my last birthday. Worry started it, then surgery. Being skinny is not all they say it is.

i didn’t write my book, but wrote statements of faith, i think more than a hundred pages of them.

i disappoint myself regularly.

i have loved being home, and enjoyed so much family time.

i have been more proud than ever of our children during the past 12 months, just unimaginably proud.

i learned to do less.

i know God’s promises to me by heart.

i have been lonely, and learned to bear it.

i have looked for wisdom from my angel grandmothers and aunts. Their memory reminds me to make family time the best it can be.

Lift

Yesterday on the way to the grocery store, we saw this hot air balloon hovering just above the trees. I scrambled for my phone to take a photo. It was good news, it was colorful, it was different. It made me smile. It made me think of the United States of America. It hovered above the worries within the houses beneath.

How do we rise amid the concerns of this time?

It will take the courage of a hot air balloon pilot, the whimsy of an artist, the creativity of an engineer, the steadiness of an accountant, the discipline of a student, the observation of a writer, the resilience of youth, the wisdom of experience, and the faith of Saints.

As we elevate our perspective beyond our current worries, we can inspire others to do the same.

Look up! Look outside yourself! Be cheerful and full of hope!

This is the lesson of the hot air balloon.