Category: Life according to Angela

People who Elevate

I told a friend that I am reading C. S. Lewis again because I need to behave better. His writings are an elevating influence in my life.

I have many people who influence me to be a better person.

My mom: She doesn’t get distracted by worldly noise and speaks truth without fear. She is also very fun.

Richard: He knows how to serve and exercises self control. He raises the fun index in the room. He has the patience to seek the best.

My dad: He is a builder, not just a builder of things like shelves and rock walls, but people.

Paige: It’s almost impossible for me to be negative when I am with her. She is optimistic and sympathetic, willing to give people the benefit of the doubt. She fills me with light.

Daniel: He is independent and willing to stand up for those who are bullied or labeled negatively. He shows gratitude and our testimonies grow together.

Timothy: He loves without measure. He is modest about his accomplishments and is steady in his work. He follows through with his commitments and perfects his skills so patiently!

Mark: He is obedient and seeks a relationship with God without guile. He shows gratitude.

Susan: She makes everyone feel like they are her favorite.

Sarah: She models love, independence, and strength.

Lorraine: She gives and gives. She tries to build connection in many ways.

Dale: He is a Christlike man who has only ever shown me kindness. He even tried to change the way he said Fish Creek when I had a hard time saying “crick.” (I can be so difficult.)

Janine: She has positive energy and knows how to lift others. I crave her company so often.

Charlene: She loves me and mine and lifts my heart in good times and bad.

Care: She knows how to reach me when I need a friend and she creates beautiful, fun things.

Becky: Seeks to encourage everyone in their talents.

Cindy: Never criticizes.

Kristy: “Seeketh not her own.” She is a rare person.

Anne: Knows how to live, but listens to my ideas, too.

Julie: She has blessed me with her knowledge and abilities and good book suggestions.

Melinda: I feel she loves me, despite all.

Nancy: She trusts me and visits me.

Kaye: She volunteers on every sign up sheet going around church. She teaches and models good homemaking skills.

I am out of time, and there are more of you. Also, I could say so much more about everyone. But you get the idea. So much good.

Sherbet Skies

Feeling a bit low this week, I went shopping for a gift, and noticed a beautiful rug in the store. I took picture after picture and admired the price. But the thought came that buying this rug wouldn’t fix the way I felt. I remembered a friend in Arizona whose home was filled with expensive, beautiful rugs. When I complimented them, she told me that she bought them during a time of grief.

On this beautiful week of sherbet sunsets, long walks, porch conversations, and a midnight message that family traditions live on while apart, my lapse in courage does not need to be memorialized with a rug!

Finding courage is about gathering from a depth of being and experience we no longer remember. My courage this week came as I studied pictures and stories of ancestors, and from a small voice in my mind reminding me of the power within myself to handle this time in my life. It came as I trusted in my ancient and continuing relationship with God.

Wagon cookies for Pioneer Day
Paige’s wagon cookies
Spring Lake porch conversation
MMSK together
Buddies forever

Surprises

One surprise was this subtle, powerful song was the audience favorite at the Pioneer Day concert I attended.

Last Sunday, when I made my trusty plan for the week, I thought my highlight would be a small Primary Presidents’ luncheon for twelve women. It was to be a good, but basic week. But then, invitations came. All week, I have been surprised by the expansion of my plans.

One big change in plans was I was asked to accompany someone in church on the violin, only the music was written for the cello. Richard watched me trying to transpose music by hand and took charge and produced the music I needed using the computer. He intervened quickly, without my asking, and this was so helpful!

Another small surprise was being invited to perform our song at two family gatherings last night after playing the song in church. It was an honor to be invited to these two homes for a few minutes.

Do we know how powerful a home and family feel to someone stepping in? Even though I came from my own cozy evening with family, I felt honored and gifted by the family feeling (the Spirit of the Lord) in each of these homes.

Friends, I am certain that your brand of hospitality and your family, even if it’s one person, have power and goodness. That may be a surprise to you, but I know it is true. Invite someone to your home for lemonade or music or a meal. They will not forget it.

Angie in July

Summer is my season of sludge, my own wrestle in quicksand. It’s silly that summer ennui still surprises me. Childhood summers were very different.

I was a child who memorized the quality of every square of cement on our block through the wheels of roller skates. I could eat a whole 3-foot licorice rope while riding home on my bike after a day at the swimming pool with no regrets. I felt accomplished after reading several Nancy Drew mysteries in a day, curled up in my playhouse. I took time to taste nectar from honeysuckle blossoms in the evenings, and spent hours on the backyard swing. I danced on the front lawn. I recall the cool feel of mud pies, molded to satisfaction, and the buzzing of insects in a jar that I collected from the tall grass. I remember the slip of the slime on the river rocks beneath my feet as I waded beneath the bridge. I named my favorite trees in the neighborhood. I had a love for the shiny petals of buttercups and penny candy from the pharmacy. Strawberries grew outside my window, as did grape vines, and I know their scents and the feel of their leaves. I studied the faces in the rock of Y mountain so often that 40 years later, the memory of their features is clear. I sat in the park under ancient sycamores on Sunday evenings to hear a band play.

I think of these times with some longing, especially during the lonely week of scout camp while everyone is away. My “lonely week” is almost over, and my summer memories have kept me company.

Good Days

The definition of a good day expands when I am thankful, and it contracts when I am self-centered. By all measures, narrow and great, I have had some good days this week.

In Spring Lake, I taught a little art class and we made small tile mosaics. I spent time sitting on the porch with my mom and some of my sisters. I walked in the canyon with Richard three evenings this week.

I was a bit starstruck to meet two great historians and authors, Laurel Thatcher Ulrich and Kate Holbrook at a conference. And by “meet,” I mean there a was a conversation about our shirts as we waited for bathroom stalls. Later, “Thank you for your work,” was all I could think to say when I met the Pulitzer Prize winner, but I think that was just right.

What do most of these activities have in common? They were opportunities for me to deal in vast things, such as relationships, possibilities, and nature. They were opportunities to learn from other people. For all the reading and scholarship that I love, there are levels of understanding to be gained only through hearing a person’s voice.

In and Out of Shadow

The relief map of our life right now shows new valleys, a consistent plateau, and several mountains. I move into different landscapes as I am needed and retreat to the backcountry when I must be silent and wait. In my solitude, I assume the role of observer and record keeper.

From a familiar point, I watch our daughter, taking steps on her own path, which is marked by shadow and speckled with obstacles. Frustrated by the turns and boulders, I wonder if she knows that she is still ascending.

A son careens forward on a path without looking one way or the other. Does he actually want to climb that trail? I am not sure he has paused enough to know.

Another son has a blind curve ahead, but has a lift in his steps. I predict the path beyond this curve will be good for him because of his optimism.

And the remaining son, well, I am still close enough to remind him to look at the vistas, and not worry about the details so much.

I am no sage on the hill, but I do know about blind corners, and have skinned my knees when racing too fast. I know the mire of worry from overthinking, and how to escape. I remember what it is like to move beyond easy marks of success, deferring talents and ideas. In such vulnerable times, growth feels a lot like defeat.

I squirm in the solitude in this life season and wonder if a record is worth keeping. I felt inspired to read A Midwife’s Tale this week and it validated my writing of everyday things more than I can say. Our walk continues, and my writing provides a relief map of where we have been.

Headlines of Consequence

Pioneer Trek photo by Susan Vaughn
Last summer, as an intern for the illuatrator of this book, Paige watched him paint this cover and helped with some background illustration. It is coming out next week.
Strawberry Pinnacles campout (There were other boys there!)

Connection and progress happen in the undercurrents of the to do lists and during transit between appointments. The on stage, public displays are a pinnacle, not the mountain we have climbed. They don’t call attention to themselves, but tiny, daily actions are life. Today I elevate some of these menial and plain things and dress them up as headlines:

Late night conversation keeps parenting goals on track.

Work at home issues forth connection and order.

Meal preparation: a rock in the fortress of home, every day

She waited weeks for a convenient time to ask family to move furniture.

A child is struggling? Pray with him.

Camping gear is well traveled.

Mother makes another trip to the store for gear and marshmallows.

Reconciliation evident in non-verbal ways

He often works from home at night to balance high demands of employer and others.

To avoid criticizing someone, mother pulls weeds outside.

Foregoing personal hobbies and family time, Scoutmaster pushes on.

Despite past failures, additional attempts are planned for family spirituality.

Dead, maggot-filled animal buried early this morning in the backyard

Stranded motorist helped by a kind stranger

She kept paper for taking notes.

Entire family commits to watching together a movie only one person will enjoy.

They sat down together at the table.

They took the time they needed to make a plan.

He changed the station again and again without hearing frustration from the driver.

Strength to do dishes and laundry is a blessing.

After years of being too busy, mother helps organize son’s collections.

He remembered to text his mom to let her know where he was.

She smiled instead of criticized.

He practiced each day.

He let his brother stick an earbud in his ear to hear a funny song.

They kept praying together.

6 letters

Last week I made a goal to write six letters, not emails or texts, just old fashioned hand written letters. I wrote to an array of friends and family and it was a good exercise for my dusty pen and neglected stationery. Writing letters is like planting a seed, then moving away, since I can’t see my friends’ faces as they read. Instead, I imagine happy receptions and hopefully a jump within the heart. The best mail carriers place real mail on top of the bills and junk. They know before you do that today you are a winner, because somebody thought to write to you. That has to be one of the sweet things about carrying mail, being in on secrets of the heart.

The Summer Treatment

The posture for May was heads down and knees bent for heavy loads. This last week of school finds me looking up from an appointment book that isn’t bursting out of the margins with the wispy, disconnected thought, “What just happened?”

The spring decorations on the shelves looked weary and a little dusty, so I cleaned and boxed them up. Next March, the same decorations will feel fresh again, and will be a welcome change to close out winter. The reds, whites, and blues are here to replace the pastels, and I have a few new toys to display. I am becoming the kitschy queen. So be it. We survived May, and the ferris wheel seemed an appropriate trophy.

In the high school, teachers turn students loose in the halls early from class, or just let their students play on their smart phones. Tim had one class today where they played Mario Kart. Tomorrow is yearbook day. As I remember, that day seemed so important. It’s the day you hope your friends will write something nice and then you spend a few hours studying each word and comma for meaning, then set the book aside and not look at it again for 30 years. Many of the boys will be unrecognizable in 30 years. The women change less.

Tim and two friends are mowing lawns and landscaping this summer. He will go on Pioneer Trek and a high adventure trip. Mark is going to Scout camp. Richard will camp and camp and camp and fully explore every possibility. I may paint, serve on a jury, and read a biography of George Washington. I may not do any of those things. All I know is that I will meet a lot more people for my church calling and try to remember their names. In the evenings I will turn on the ferris wheel and listen to the children play in the street until their sounds are replaced by the song of crickets and sprinkler systems.

We are ready for the summer treatment.