Category: Life according to Angela

Unthinkable resilience

Unthinkable resilience! Why should I want to feel better? Is it okay to miss Daniel even though he is doing good things?

“Time will make it better,” they say, but what is time? It’s usually the enemy. Wasn’t it time that got us to the place that time must now heal? I think time is neither enemy nor healer. Relative, temporary, illusive, speeding, slowing, stalled: time is our least dependable marker. To God, time is not as we experience it here. So why is time a cornerstone for us? Perhaps time is just a name for something we can’t name, but surely makes us change.

For almost nineteen years, I set my clock by many of Daniel’s sounds. Lately, I slept after the ratcheting of the lock on the door at night and woke to the close of his basement bathroom door. I timed my days for dinner at 6:30 and the late night talks. And then time seemed to leave as I watched him move away from his youth, not just at obvious milestones, but late one night, sitting in silence with him in the dark after he said a final goodbye to someone. I felt it as he made requests for the care of keepsakes and friends and siblings. Time was not there in these moments, but there was something else. Reality? Presence? Arrival?

It’s always been a balance beam, this relationship. Don’t cling, let him fly, stay centered, don’t react, but never, until recently, be perfectly still. Be still, and realize that it was always God who was holding us up, (not I!) and that this support will continue. For God deals in the realities of people and relationships. How inconsequential is time compared to love!

I begin to understand that my Father in Heaven, not time, is the source of a resilience I can accept.

Consolation

Kindness is the most difficult thing to take right now because it brings out emotions I think I have already dealt with, but kindness also reminds me that I am understood. I may not be answering the door, but I am doing well. I am out each day doing Relief Society work. I have taken the kids to the mall and Costco and up the canyon for driving practice. I am preparing meals and cleaning the house. I am not crying all the time, but I am not yet myself. I am thankful for friends, whose gestures cannot all be pictured here. From eighty-five year-old neighbor Stanford called to check on me, to sixteen-year-old friend Lillie who decorated a cake for us, they represent many ages. Another special friend has left a succession of packages throughout the week. We were invited to dinner and received many flower deliveries. We have felt love from many states. There are friends from Texas and Arizona and high school who have taken time to write words of excitement for us. These gifts of consolation add up to quite a celebration, which is appropriate, considering we have a son who is worthy and willing to be a light.

New lenses

At 2:15 on Monday, I captured the kids doing these things and asked them to pretend I wasn’t taking pictures.

Richard dreads the idea of having to wear glasses, but I have worn them since I was nine or ten years old and know how great it is to have vision restored. Like Richard, though, I sometimes fight the different lenses I need to take on with time: the lens of experience in saying goodbye at college or a mission, the lens of what it’s like to sit with someone who is in pain, and the lens to look outward when my own troubles want to dominate my view. The lenses of experience with disappointment, repentance, and wisdom after stupidity are particularly difficult to assume sometimes.

I think the most difficult thing I ever did was say goodbye to my friends who went on missions. Three best friends left within a year and I was shaken emotionally and physically. For this reason, I worried what it would be like to send Daniel, who is more dear to me, on a mission. I have my moments, of course, but I have something I didn’t have when I said goodbye to my friends when I was 18 and 19 years old. The lenses I have acquired over time teach me that a mission is not just a goodbye. It is everything good. I have seen it again and again. I am really as peaceful about this as I have ever felt over a big transition. I felt it when he read his call to me. I feel it now, even though we have less than a week left together. It is peace not earned by personal experience, since I have never sent a son before, but it’s evidence of a generous God.

The Things I Want to Remember

 

There are many things that I could write about today: a week full of challenges and adventures, sweet moments, and goodness. I think will share my gratitude list from last week.

July 16-22, 2018

Kind woman who helped Daniel select temple clothing

Nice woman at the health department

We toured each boy’s bedroom (each showed something they were working on) for family night and ended the evening watching funny YouTube videos together on Mark’s bed.

The Pickwick Papers miniseries

I was given the right words to say to a sister who needed some help.

A sweet birthday visit to my dad

My presidency, especially my secretary who is moving this week. Her service has been immense.

The polka dot skirt

The boys were protected on their trip to Fish Creek.

Two-year-old Layton’s prayer for me during his mom’s visit to my home

Paige had a great week in New York.

We found a coat for the mission.

The mission shopping is nearly complete.

Daniel’s hug in the celestial room of the temple

 

 

Skirt

Almost every day I shop for Daniel, I find mothers out with their sons buying mission clothing, too. I don’t even have to see them to feel some familiarity. Today I overheard a woman helping her son find a travel bag in the next aisle. I knew exactly what was going on. When I see these mothers with their wide-eyed, humble sons, it makes me ache for the mothers a bit. Maybe these moms would also appreciate something cheerful to wear. 😉 I finished sewing my polka dot skirt!

Polka dots and t-shirts

I am convinced that I need polka dots to get through the next few weeks so I am making myself a polka dot skirt. Will I finish it today? I hope so.

Today I will not obsess about Daniel’s suits being the wrong fit or colors. (They are fine. Why can’t I believe that? Who is this paranoid person?) I will not worry about all of the name labels I should be sewing on his clothing, nor the alterations I still need to do. (This will actually be easy, and I will enjoy a movie or two as I do it.)  I will stop crying about not being able to find a winter coat for him because I think I finally found two good options late last night online. (And I have lots more time since it is expected that we will ship these things to him in a couple months.) I will stop wishing I had a big sister and appreciate all the sisters who surround me.

I am using every method at my disposal to WIN these days and weeks leading up to the mission: savoring every bite of my food, watching British entertainment, decorating with twinkle lights, embracing positive words, and taking spontaneous time with the boys. Melancholy still seeps in, and when it does, I just take it, have my little cry or whatever, and think about my polka dot skirt. But don’t let this post about fabrics fool you. When I am obsessing about socks or a suit or polka dots, it is really that I am having a hard time saying goodbye to Daniel. The person, not the mannequin I am dressing. Finding the right clothes is really the least of my worries.

I have adopted some armor. When I wear positive messages, it changes how I think. I bought a lot of happy screen print t-shirts, enough for every day of the week.

I plan to pair them with my polka dot skirt. Here are a few of them:

It won’t wear one of these on the day we say goodbye since I plan to experience every feeling that day without armor.

Collections

I spent some time today with Daniel going through his closet. When he was eleven or twelve, he and I organized his many collections in boxes with labels, and this week, he is parting with most of these things. Collections of metal, bouncy balls, airsoft pellets, rocks, army men, shiny things, cards, baseballs, toys, pens, postcards, marbles, cowboy things, Pinewood Derby cars, CDs, and other treasures went through our hands one more time together. There were things to keep, things to pass on to others, and much to throw away.

Tonight I look at Mark’s collections at his desk and feel the need to remember every detail of these messy cubbies.

One Step Enough For Me

Recently, a friend shared some of her gospel questions with me. I think people with questions are using their minds. I think people with questions should ask them and seek for answers, even if it takes their whole lives. I am not somebody who has a lot of big questions. This is just not how I face the world. I invest time in my testimony every day in the scriptures and prayer.  But my questions as I study the scriptures and pray are usually very small. “What does this sentence mean for me?” or, “How shall I structure my time today?”  and, “Will you be there with me?” And since I get ample direction from asking these simple questions, this has helped me trust to God the big questions. My spiritual gift isn’t grand knowledge and answers to troubling questions. It’s simple faith that God speaks to me and directs me in small things, and cumulative small things add up over time to sweeping faith and trust in God.

One step enough for me.

Scoutmaster’s Wife

Richard and Mark left for Scout Camp this morning at 6 am. I got up to wish them goodbye, and now I can’t seem to make myself happy or get going. The trade-off for missing Richard is that I know Mark will be ok with his dad around. I miss Mark already. He is my companion most of the time, and he pats me on the back while I shop for groceries and he likes to fix me little things for lunch.

Some days are bad days for me, just like anyone, even if I don’t vocalize it.

It takes a lot of family and leader effort to get a scout to a beautiful Eagle Court of Honor like we had last weekend.