Category: Life according to Angela

Joy, December 4

“And it came to pass that we lived after the manner of happiness.”

2 Nephi 5:27

A few years ago, I documented all the family challenges found in the Book of Mormon. Children rebel, parents are imperfect, grandchildren leave the faith, people need to fix their marriage relationships, fathers are killed, and courageous parents write their family challenges for our benefit. Lehi’s family gets the closest study, and the division and violence are heartbreaking.

Elder Holland taught,

The first 30 years of Book of Mormon history do not present a pleasant story.  After the abrupt necessity of abandoning their entire earthly fortune, leaving Jerusalem hastily on the eve of international conflict, crossing the Arabian peninsula in the most adverse of circumstances, building a boat without any prior experience in doing so, crossing an ocean with would-be fatal conflicts breaking out repeatedly and landing in a primitive, unknown new land with all the hardship such a settlement would entail, the hostility within the family of Lehi and Sariah became so intense that the two halves of their family split asunder, with one group fleeing yet farther into the wilderness, fearing for their lives lest they fall victim to the bloodthirsty quest of the other.  As they plunged into unsettled terrain to seek safety and fashion a life for themselves as best they could, the prophet-leader of this Nephite half of the family says they now tried to live “after the manner of happiness.”

In light of what they had just been through for thirty years and with what we know yet lay in store for them in the trials almost constantly ahead, such a comment seems almost painful.  How could any of this be described as anything remotely like “happiness”?  Ah, my friends, there is the rub.  Nephi does not say they were happy, though it is evident they actually were.  What he says is, they “lived after the manner of happiness.” 

In other words, there is a pattern for happy living that we can choose to follow, even when circumstances are rough.

For me, “living after the manner of happiness” includes nurturing family relationships. My dream is that no one will ever again recount how bossy I was when I was younger and see that I am a lot more gentle than I used to be. In another relationship, I would be happier if my ideas weren’t mocked. I’m sure my family members have similar wishes: to be known, to shed old labels that no longer apply, to be accepted, to be cherished. A family counselor taught that we will be happier if we assume “benevolent intent” in our loved ones. I will do it for you. Will you do it for me?

Perhaps if was convenient to hate Nephi when he was young, as he was direct about what he saw his brothers doing wrong. The blame lies mostly with his brothers for the contention, but I see Nephi change his tone over the years. By the end of his life, Nephi stopped naming specific faults and called out to his family in love in his writing. To his beloved brethren who rejected him, he carefully explained the doctrine of Christ, which is simply that we need not stay as we were. Christ can help us change. Nephi teaches me that joy comes in the subtle shift over time from judgment to charity, especially in our families.

Joy, December 1

I prepared an advent calendar of scripture passages about joy for my friends this Christmas. I will share a few things each day leading up to Christmas to explain why I chose each scripture.

Make me to hear joy and gladness; that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice. Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities. Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from thy presence; and take not thy holy spirit from me. Restore me unto the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free spirit…The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.

Psalms 51:8-12, 17

This scripture challenges the way I have thought about joy during a lot of my life. It is linked to a broken and contrite heart. It is a gift from God, not something we can summon through our own powers; it is something we seek from God. He is the source, the way, and the memory of joy. Truly, we are “restored” to joy, the state in which we lived with God before we were born.

Things we ask of God in order to feel joy:

  • “Make me to hear joy and gladness”
  • “Hide thy face from my sins”
  • “Blot out all mine iniquities”
  • “Cast me not away from thy presence”
  • “Create in me a clean heart”
  • “Renew a right spirit within me”
  • “Take not thy holy spirit from me.”
  • “Restore unto me the joy of salvation”
  • “Uphold me with thy free spirit”

Things required in the process of seeking joy:

  • Ask God for the above things
  • “The Sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart.”

The Savior acts in our behalf, continually and faithfully. His work of creation continues in our hearts and in the renewal of “right spirit.” I love the phrase, “Uphold me with thy free spirit.” To me, this means two things, 1. He chooses to help us, and 2. Our Savior’s mastery of agency qualifies him to uphold us as we stumble along to achieve self mastery.

Two things that don’t fit in either category, but are important:

  • “The bones which thou hast broken may rejoice”
  • “O, God, thou wilt not despise”

Sometimes he allows us to become broken. This is not evidence of his neglect, but a tutoring in our dependence on God. Also, he will not despise us in our brokenness. Illness, sin, and discomfort can drive people away because these things are not pretty. The Lord does not despise the ugly tears, the pain of being driven to humility, and the stench of sins we are trying to blot out. He will not despise us in our moments of pain. He comes and makes our broken bones rejoice. He has done this for me.

The week of so much paper

This week, the kitchen table in its 104-inch majesty was our repository for stacks of paper for two Eagle projects, merit badge work, hundreds of wedding invitations, and handouts for 40 women for Stake organization training. I really like what all these stacks of paper represent, and neat stacks of paper, some of them so beautiful, were satisfying to see.

Today, though, I am tired. And I hope I didn’t stuff merit badge cards or baptism guidelines in the wedding envelopes by mistake.

That is all I have today. It’s just a full time. (You may know I hate the word busy…)

Snapshots of the week

Dresses and lots of wedding details
A salamander in our sprinkler box
Live music by our friend Jesse; desserts, good food, and celebration.
Up to the challenge
One handed
Dalton’s is for special occasions.
The things you find when you help someone move

Not pictured:

My look of relief when I realized that “making” kids love the Pauline Epistles is not essential to being a good parent.

The happy bride in her dress.

Mark’s concerto performance.

The best apple crisp I have ever made.

The trophy Timothy earned by learning three concertos over three years.

The view of the Salt Lake valley from my car as I explored above the University of Utah while the boys had a class. The trees, dressed in their fall colors, and the sky changing to gray with an approaching winter storm offered the view I needed.

The cake our family made together that tasted so terrible we had to throw it away.

The letter from Daniel’s mission president assuring us all missionaries are safe in their apartments as there are riots going on.

A drive

A friend took me for a drive to see the Autumn leaves. Richard took me on a drive over the weekend to a different place but we did not remember to take pictures. This time with my friend, I also forgot my good camera, but took a few cell phone shots to remember what we saw.

We picked dried grasses, shrubs, and thistles to arrange in crockery in our homes. We explored a new trail on Guardsman Pass. We had ice cream for lunch in Heber Valley. Vermillion, coral, and maroon, burnt orange and tangerine, gold and lemon yellow leaves were like a colorful billowy quilt across the hills. Up close, I like the maples in coral and red, but the yellow Aspen leaves high above among the pines are glorious.

I don’t know why I don’t allow myself more opportunities like this. I can think of a small handful of places I have visited this year for my own enjoyment. This was one of them.

halves

The great cherry tree in my neighbor’s backyard, the focal point of my view out my kitchen window, suffers. One half of its leaves and branches wither, just as its owner did before his passing a few weeks ago. One half is still healthy enough to show green leaves. I have found inspiration in this tree over the years to keep going, enjoy the blossoms and red cherries, and endure long winters. Now, it reminds me of loss, and of the burden of living with half.

As eternal beings who are the offspring of God, something within us cannot be comfortable with halves. The Lord knows this about this, and has a plan to make us whole as we step forward with our fractured halves… of understanding, a partnership, ability, vision, purpose, joy, testimony, or strength.

One way he makes us whole is through the sacrament. Last Sunday, I heard the word “souls” in the sacrament prayer. We come to the sacrament table as souls, two halves of a whole: spirit and body. I learned that the emblems, blessed and sanctified, were for for the benefit of both my body and spirit. I learned that God is involved in the tangibles of toothache just as much as the imperceptible needs of the spirit, homesick for heaven, but not ready to be there.

Audacity

At age four I could mimic the life I wanted as I played wedding, house, and office. My closet was my kitchen; my neighbor, my groom. I dressed and held each doll differently, as any mother does. I kept lists of things to do, places to go, and rents paid.

At age fourteen, I took my first Zoology class and this steered me to science teaching. I was also voted “most likely to become a seminary teacher’ that year.

At age twenty-four, I had a Zoology degree, a husband, two babies, and a class of teenagers who showed up at my door for my seminary lesson at 6 am every school day.

At age thirty-four, our children were all with us, and I taught home school. I also played science teacher to dozens more at a community center.

At age forty-four, my heart stretches to embrace a child living across the world, and toward a soon-to-be new son holding my daughter’s hand. I teach mostly through encouragement, whether at home or at church. I know now that there are many ways to teach.

I had the audacity at age four to act out my future. There was no fear in my play, only hope and love. I need to take a lesson from my four-year-old self: if I can hope and love, it will be enough, because God is the one who planted these desires for family and influence inside of me. He is the one enabling me to accomplish His purposes. He knows which songs I love best, and has blessed me to be able to play them because he loves me.

My four-year-old self did not foresee an end to the little house life, nor that the children would challenge us deeply. Perhaps it’s that immature self inside of me that feels some defeat in reality. But this stretching and fatigue is not how the story will end. This is the part where it gets really interesting.