We’re getting ready to entertain two young families with babies. Paige and her family are coming, and Celina and her young family are coming to stay with us. Celina and Paige became friends 19 years ago in Arizona and have remained close. It’s time for their little boys to meet. I am populating shelves with toys and books in anticipation. Hooray!
I guess I needed a 1980’s week without posting on the Internet. I have been doing invisible home maintenance things and I’m blessed to have the time and energy to do them.
Paige sent these photos. 😄
Nominative determinism means that our names can influence our interests, personality, and life choices. For example, I knew a girl in middle school named Charisma, and her personality matched her name perfectly. My dad’s name means beloved, and he is! My mother’s name is Carol, and yes, music is a huge part of her life.
My name is Angela Christie. I’ve teased my mom about this in the past, “No pressure with that name, Mom.” When I married Richard, my name became Angela C. Ross. After many years, I noticed that my middle initial and last name spell the word cross. ✝️ (Hopefully the religious kind, not the grumpy kind!)
Sometimes my name stings with the disconnect I see between the real and the ideal. Other days, I am grateful for the reminder of potential and promise.
You and I are called to be better each day, no matter our names or their origins. Those who make and keep covenants become children of Christ and take his name. Nominative determinism suggests that each covenant child is set on a path for a glorious future, and I know that Christ will help us live up to his name if we let him.
Yea, blessed is this people who are willing to bear my name; for in my name shall they be called; and they are mine.
Mosiah 26:18
Some weeks are just extra special. I haven’t had time to write about this one, but I want to remember it.
June is my favorite month in Utah. I spend more time outdoors and the evenings echo with children at play. The neighbors come out of the house and chat in the street, and the canyon where we walk is still green and the creek is flowing. We work and I read in the yard. Summer isn’t familiar yet, and the sunsets are still a surprise. The cool grass in the shade refreshes the busy worker, and the flowers bow themselves over with their own weight. It’s an extravagant display and time slows down just a bit. And June is just the beginning.
School is getting out this week in my neighborhood, and this season of graduations makes me reflect on how much has changed since our youngest left home. During most of this school year, I have wondered why all the years of dedication and effort in raising my family needed to end with these hollow feelings. Recently, I decided to challenge my negative thoughts about the “empty nest.”
For instance, what if my current situation isn’t a sign that I did something wrong?
What if the quiet things I am doing now are essential, and not just filler?
What if this season is actually a gift?
What if I look at this time of transition less like an airport and more like a plane in flight?
What if my small achievements are actually big?
What if I choose to trust the process?
I begin to understand that I’m exactly where I should be. As summer arrives, I’m ready to graduate to a new kind of thinking, and move away from the hollow spaces I’ve inhabited so long.
I learn many things as a teacher of this Sunday School class. I have been a student of the scriptures throughout my life, and I have experience in receiving personal revelation about passages of scripture, but there is a new level of insight that has come with this calling.
Clear ideas flood my mind when I prepare to teach this group of adults.
My takeaway is that these adults are as precious to the Lord as the children and youth of the church. What happens in our Sunday School class matters to Him because He loves them and wants to help them.
After three years of pretty steady effort, I still enjoy making these little cross stitch pieces. This is the second time I have made this one because I gave away the first and I was lonely without it. I really love its composition, colors, and meaning.
I read something interesting about this detail from Michaelangelo’s Sistine Chapel painting. God’s hand is on the right, Adam’s is on the left. The attitude of God’s finger is extended, reaching, while man’s is relaxed. Man must choose to reach out to God, who is anxious and ready to connect.
Connection is the goal. We can do this.
I couldn’t visit my mom this year, but tried to write an extra good letter, which I realize now was probably inadequate with her living so far away from family. I like the concept of Mother’s Day. In practice, I understand that it can be hard to do it right.
There are some tongue in cheek remarks from me around Mother’s Day. For instance, sometime around March when the ads begin, I will ask Richard if he’s started planning gifts for the holiest day of the year, Mother’s Day. Gifts are not my love language, but I like to be with my family and I like their kind gestures. As the saying goes, my family “understood the assignment,” and made my weekend very special.
This year, I got to spend time with our 3 oldest kids. There was our trip to Alabama to see Paige and her family, then on Saturday, Daniel, Tim, and Richard washed our windows and we went to a movie together. I was able to connect with Mark and Paige on the phone on Sunday. Tim skipped his ward meeting to sit beside me in church, ensuring that I didn’t sit alone. My gifts were mostly sweets, which are perfect for me. Richard cooked dinner and we dined around a new rose bouquet.
I love our family. I love Richard. I love being a mom.
