Life according to Angela – Page 83

Newport Beach

Are you in the mood to look at beach pictures?These triennial beach trips have become important markers for the progress of our family. Mark was a newborn and produced his first smile on the first beach trip we made with Richard’s family. Over the years, Paige towered over her brothers in height, until suddenly she didn’t. This is the last family vacation before she leaves home. When we go again, Daniel might be on a mission. The early beach trips with Mark kept me in the waves, holding him tightly because he loved the rush and pull of the water. This year he spent most of his beach time in the water, not needing my hand, and not caring how far the water carried him down the beach from the group. I watched him with squinty eyes from a distance, his jaunty walk and hop over the waves matching the imprint I have of him in my mind. Courage and skill have grown in all of the children. Interest in sand castle building has remained a constant, whether their legs are short or long, and whether they own a cell phone or not. I like constants like that. Some years we can find sand crabs. Timothy’s area of interest is always the wildlife. This year the treasure was sand dollars and on the final night, a tiny octopus in the tide pools. The boys are lucky to have cousins that match their ages and interests, and these cousins gathered for card games, baseball, amusement park rides, and electronics. Richard and his brothers always make me smile when they joke around together, which is almost all the time, except when they are working on a computer issue or shopping for something online. Then things get very, very serious indeed.

Walking on sand with a broken toe is a bad, bad idea, so I didn’t do a lot of that. I sat on the deck and looked out over the palm trees, stitched hair on a doll, and thought about Relief Society. On the days that I ventured to the beach, I spent the whole afternoon there to avoid having to walk back and forth over the sand. I’m normally pretty terrible at doing nothing, but sometimes it’s good to be still.

Here we go

Hello, July! We’re off on adventures, every one of us. Richard and the boys’ adventures are the outdoorsy type. Paige’s adventures are of the summer job and preparing for college type. I broke my first bone and was called to be the Relief Society President last week. I found myself saying this over and over as we faced new things, “Here we go…” (kind of like what you say before you jump off the high dive or speak before a crowd) and so far the shock and adrenaline have been great helps. So has my family. Paige and Daniel cooked while I had to rest with my foot elevated. My sister Susan came and sat with me on the day I was so nervous that I was sick to my stomach.

Independence Day is a blur to me, but according to the camera, we had tank wars with my sister’s family. Instead of focusing on the fireworks, my mind dreaded that moment when my name would be read in church the next day and that title would be added to my name and all kinds of expectations and associations over which I have no control would descend on me. It felt heavy, and made me feel a little solemn. I know that many women don’t know me at church because I have been working with the Young Women since we moved here.

Despite the initial shock and nervousness, I feel like I am coming to the calling of Relief Society President with a full lamp. I feel prepared; not fully capable, but strong in my testimony and at peace with the life I have been given, including some challenges and heartache. I know I will have lots of help from many people and God’s grace will carry me. Also, I love serving in Relief Society. I love visiting people and connecting with others on a deep level. I love teaching. So the calling, while heavy, is also a gift; Heavenly Father has said, “Here you go,” and I am glad.

Art and Memory

As I have worked on the story of our family I’ve read journals, handled baby clothes, played music, and sifted through gifts from my children to awaken memories. I have seen how the arts have a power over memory that my conscious efforts don’t. I listened to an album from Paige’s childhood and the music didn’t bring back many concrete memories, but a yearning and a sweet ache. Feelings aren’t always nonsense. They can teach things that concrete objects can’t. My history isn’t just a chronology, it’s also emotion and motives not easily explained.

Music reminds me that there is a reality beyond memory that is sweet and real. Many details of motherhood are lost to me because I was tired and I didn’t write everything down. Music helps me remember what my mind cannot: how it felt to draw myself out to my children. It reminds me of unfiltered vulnerability and sacrifice, which are some of the ways I have loved.

Words, harnessed and molded, also help me understand my blessings. If I capture moments in words, they become objects of gratitude. Blessings multiply before my mind as I record Mark’s funny quotes, or the times when Timothy walked around the pool talking to the plants when he was a baby. Blessings take the form of the sparkle in Paige’s eyes when she danced and showed us her magnificent spirit on stage, or when Daniel, completely disarmed after a week away from home, gave me a long hug when he returned. These little things become pillars of memory as I take time to record them. It’s not just the big events that matter. Now recorded in words, these little memories are a testament to the blessings of having children; of the blessing of being alive.

Why make the effort to write? I want to be a voice that champions family. I want my family to know they are my favorite people.

Mothering was something I always wanted to do. It’s satisfying to me. It involves pain, worry, and frustration, too. It’s the role I cling to, but must find activities apart from, in order to be successful. Music and writing are those activities, yet they also bring me back to my family. I have an identity outside my titles, roles, and errands, but my role in the family has helped me in every way. I’m so thankful to be a daughter, sister, wife, and mother.

Daniel on Pioneer Trek

Daniel is off to Pioneer Trek this morning. If you see me with a distant look this week it’s because my thoughts are in Wyoming as I weave a long prayer for safety and strength for these kids. Or it’s because I’m choosing not to think and not to worry. This sendoff is a hard one for me. I try to send the kids off for adventures because it’s the right thing to do. I have raised our kids in a world that looks down on parents who let their kids out of their sight. It’s hard not to be affected by that paranoia. Plus I had heat stroke when I went on trek 3 years ago and I don’t want that for anyone.

I’m convinced that worry is the opposite of what God wants us to do with our thoughts. So this week it’s prayer and work and zoning out, but not worry for me. Because even in my worst experiences in life, I have been lifted. Daniel will be lifted, too.

Girls Camp 2015

1-DSC_3055 — Lightning storm the first night

1-DSC_3074 — Beginning our 4-mile trek to the temple. Notice anything interesting in this picture?

1-DSC_3075 — We see our destination at the beginning, but not again until the final stretch.

1-DSC_3133 — The girls did a lot of service around the property and tied fleece blankets for Shriner’s Hospital.

1-DSC_3153 — The girls loved having sidewalk chalk available.

1-DSC_3176 — There were a lot of crafts.

We held Girls Camp at my parents’ property in Spring Lake. I think the girls had a good experience. I know that I did.

Escape

2008 feels like it wasn't really 7 years ago. — 2008 feels like it wasn’t really 7 years ago.

We made our escape to the cabin on the Smith and Morehouse river for twenty-four hours to inaugurate summer. Somehow almost all I did was sleep in the warm sun coming through the windows of the porch bed, my book open but unread, my doll ready to sew, but untouched. We took a hike Monday morning up the mountain. Later I took a stroll down the tree covered lane to the family cabin and felt my memories whispering inside of me. I felt an ache for family members who are gone and a sadness that the flowers continue to bloom without them. The summers of my childhood played again in my mind as I moved among the trees and flowers at the ranch. As the breeze brushed past, so did the memories; the feelings they invoked so tangible that they tugged my heart until it hurt. Glorious stuff.

Our plans this summer allow for a lot more time in the woods, plus some time jumping in the waves. My computer is not working and I type this post with my thumbs and forefingers on my phone. I am taking it as a sign that I should take a break from the blog for a while. I go through times when I feel foolish for needing to write an insignificant blog. I’m having one of those times. Plus, the clutter in my house needs some attention. Does anyone want about 1/3 of our stuff?

I hope you know that I appreciate you stopping by. Thank you!

-A

Quiet Paige is Formidable

As Paige is graduating this week, I thought I’d share one of my essays about her from my memoir project.

Quiet Paige is Formidable

When Paige was four or five years old, she was part of a class of children in church with two darling teachers, Katrina Kuriplach and Lisa Stott. One day during the lesson the children were challenged to pick up a penny without using their thumbs. This task was designed to be impossible, perhaps to point out the amazing design of our bodies. Children took turns coming to the front of the room and tried to pick up the penny with only their fingers, but each failed. Quiet, hesitant Paige surprised them all when she walked up to the penny, brushed it off the book without using her thumbs, and caught it with her other hand when it fell.

When Paige was three, she dressed up for Halloween as Mary Poppins. Our neighbors’ daughter Kaitlyn was her best friend. We went trick-or-treating together as families and watched our little girls run ahead of us to the next house. Kaitlyn’s mother took the opportunity to tell me that Kaitlyn had tried to get Paige to dress in a coordinating costume. Kaitlyn was a blue dog, and she wanted Paige to be the pink dog. (Blue and Magenta from the show, Blues Clues) However, Kaitlyn’s mother said that Paige would have nothing to do with the idea. “Paige is independent and strong-willed,” she told me. I had worried that Paige’s silent nature might mean a life of getting pushed around by others, and this was a welcome insight!

I have learned from having a quiet child and being quiet myself that it’s possible to have strength, resilience, and ingenuity while being quiet. It is an important day when someone will acknowledge that.

At age eight when Paige was interviewed by our bishop for baptism, I received a call from the bishop telling me that he had been impressed by Paige’s answers to his questions about the gospel. He told me that it was a “Charlie Brown” moment in his life. He had become the adult whose words were muddled and unimportant as Paige’s clear and profound answers became the focus and highlight of the conversation. Many years later when we were living in Arizona, this bishop wrote to me,

Paige remains the most amazing baptism interview of my Bishop career…she left an indelible impression of goodness and purpose… Her light reflects her intrinsic beauty, value and a maturity far beyond her mortal years… Her understanding of and her insight into our Father’s Plan of Happiness leaves her untroubled with the ‘Do’s and Don’t’s’ of the commandments… While I may no longer recognize her in a crowd, I will love her forever.

May doll

I know I already posted a picture of this doll, but I finished her this week. I find these faces calming, and that’s good medicine. Have a great day.

What does it take to have music like that in my home?

1-new piano — We bought this piano in February 2007.

Daniel and Paige played piano in public this week. Someone leaned over to me and asked what it takes to have kids play music like that in my home.

I deferred to Paige to tell the woman how long she’s studied piano, and I started thinking about “what it took” to get where we are now. My mind kept going back to the financial aspect of it as I drove away from the event in my 16-year-old van (which I love). Every month, instead of a car payment, we pay a piano teacher. Can a person learn to play piano with a less expensive teacher? Of course! But we wanted the opportunities a professional teacher could offer. We invested in a grand piano in 2007. The kids love this instrument and it is fun to play. This helps them want to practice. Can a person learn to play beautifully on an upright piano? Of course! For our family, having this piano in a music room has been a symbol of our commitment to music and this commitment has become part of our family culture. As for incentives for practicing, we don’t allow media time until the kids have practiced. That’s been a great motivator for the boys.

Besides the financial investment, there is an investment of time. By no means do I resent the money and time we have spent, but I started calculating how much time we have given for music study. Richard taught Paige for two years. I spend one afternoon a week shuttling kids to and from piano lessons. I’ve done that for 10 years. On piano lesson days, I don’t try to do anything that requires focused attention. I’ll fold laundry between lessons or do little projects around the house, but then it’s time to get in the car again. I have no idea how many hours I’ve spent driving. Piano lessons always go over time, so I wait. Waiting 20-30 minutes a week for 10 years means that I’ve spent over 200 hours sitting in the van waiting for the kids to finish piano lessons. Who knows how many hours I’ve spent waiting at ensemble rehearsals, judging events, and recitals. I read while I wait, so it’s nice. And then there is the time that I am home, monitoring practice, or making sure that it happens. I’m grateful that I am home to do this. Is our method the only way to produce great musicians? No! But every hour, every dollar, and every sacrifice is worth it “to have music like that in our home.”

Look up!

Mark turns 9 years old today. We went to the Payson Temple open house this morning. It was a walking tour without a guide, but in one of the rooms, a volunteer reminded us to “look up.” The ceilings were glorious. Everything was special. It felt like home. I thought of my great-grandparents who had a farm one mile from the temple site. When I saw a painting of a woman with a basket of apples, I thought of my grandmothers who bottled fruit in this area during the Depression and beyond. I hope that Mark remembers some details of this magnificent temple and that it was part of his birthday celebration to be there. I hope that he and the kids remember to “look up” for approval, guidance, and perspective.