Life according to Angela – Page 88

What? No chevron prints and no cardigans?

It’s the morning after Thanksgiving break. I awoke at 4:45, signaling that all of those naps over the weekend were probably a little excessive.

It’s that time of year when I try to get a family photo for Christmas cards. I will never be the mom who coordinates the family in French grays (at least one person in a chevron print or a cardigan) and finds a striking place to take the perfect photo. We arrived at my parents’ place on Thanksgiving and I said, “Quick, take a picture before the hair gets messed up and Daniel is covered in dirt from one of Grandpa’s projects!” The minute the photos were taken, my dad drove Daniel off to the (dusty) storage unit to gather furniture so we would have a place to sit. I know what I’m doing even if we’re not color-coordinated.

I look like I’ve gained 20 pounds in this family picture. Actually, I am just wearing 4 layers to stay warm. I’m also wearing my grandmother’s pearls to inspire me as I do dishes and cook.

Our weekend was sparkly with Christmas lights, glittery with ornaments, rich with calories, and comfortable in traditions. Those pillars of family traditions can feel overly celebratory when times are difficult, but they help carry us along. I’ve reflected a lot about two of my siblings who are going through really difficult times. Despite all of that, there was a family gathering, a place at the table, and a viewing of White Christmas on Thanksgiving to steady us. Celebrating Thanksgiving is always in order. No matter our situation, we are blessed to have a Savior, blessed to have this earth, blessed to have family and friends, blessed to have another day to live, and an endless list of more.

Happy Thanksgiving

We’re spending Thanksgiving with most of these kids.

I machine embroidered these names in time for Thanksgiving. We’re going to attach these to baskets in cubby holes at my parents’ new house in Spring Lake. I can’t wait to see each child’s basket in a special spot at Grandma’s. I think it’s a great idea to have a place for each child to keep their things when they visit.

Each name is done in the child’s favorite color. Now that I’m done with this big project I just want to play with these colorful little tags. I’ve spent 15 minutes laying them out in different configurations on the table. Do I have time to do this? No, no I do not.

Marriage

This week President Henry B. Eyring represented our Church at the Vatican at a colloquium discussing traditional families.

I took notes as I listened to his 13-minute address. Despite current trends of the breakdown of families, he explained how there is hope to make things better. It begins with individuals, living righteous principles, such as holding family prayer, and the tradition passes to the next generation and then the next, growing stronger with each generation. He spoke a great deal about his wife and how they met and how she has helped him in his life.

Here are some of the words he said about his marriage:

I realize now that we grew into one, slowly lifting and shaping each other year after year. As we absorbed strength from each other, it did not diminish our personal gifts. Our differences combined as if they were designed to create a better whole. Rather than dividing us, our differences bound us together. Above all, our unique abilities allowed us to become partners with God…

Now, for my own thoughts on this. What have I learned about family life this week? It can be explained with a little story.

I came home late one night this week. I had missed dinner and family time. It makes me sad when I need to be away during the precious hours that we can be home together. I felt alienated as I walked into the kitchen and saw that the dinner I had prepared was now eaten and everyone was engaged in homework and other activities. But I didn’t get far into the kitchen before Richard and Mark ran upstairs to me and welcomed me home and gave me big hugs. That made me so happy. I’m convinced that successful marriages and families are built on very simple but consistent things. In this case, it was a warm welcome home.

Carry-overs on the To Do List

1-DSC_2030 — This picture has nothing to do with the post, except maybe to indicate that I like to sit down more than I like to move.

I’m looking for someone to motivate me, or just come and do the following things, or be patient as you see these things at our house. I just keep moving them to the to do list for next week when I realize I haven’t done them. Again.

1. Hang pictures in the bathroom (3 months on the list)

2. Hang towel bar in the bathroom (3 months on the list)

3. Finish the Thanksgiving Wall Hanging (13 months on the list)

4. Pull Weeds in the front beds (6 months on the list)

5. Read more than 15 minutes a day (Impossible lately)

6. Prepare teacher kits for Young Women with chalk, eraser, magnets, pencils, etc. (15 months on the list)

7. Buy clear serger thread (18 months on the list) and learn to thread the serger without Susan’s help. (I’ll probably never do this.)

8. Frame Paige’s heritage painting (8 months on the list)

(etc.)

Most of of these things don’t really matter. I have learned that many, many things do not matter. I have learned that when I prioritize, I am less frustrated with things that are left undone. I can delegate some of these things to the kids, too… once some of the craziness is over this month.

The Miracles of Song and the Courage of Youth

This is my dad and his family as they sent him off on a mission. I’m not sure what’s going on behind those stoic faces. Dread? Sadness? Bewilderment? Not ready for the camera?

My dad joined the Church when he was 17 years old. His family was not religious, but he had a few friends who were instrumental in his conversion. There was the neighbor who gave the family a Book of Mormon which sat on a shelf for years until my dad read it clandestinely in his room while throwing a basketball against the wall to avoid suspicion. There were some darling girls who invited him to early morning seminary, which he attended faithfully, learning the Old Testament. And then there was the Oakland Temple Pageant. His friends took him there and when the choir of 500 youth voices sang The Spirit of God, his heart was deeply touched. He had found the source of peace in a time of real upheaval. It was the late 1960’s in the Bay Area.

My dad’s story of hearing all of those young men and young women singing is best heard in person, and I am sure I am leaving out details. However, I believe that it was one of the sacred events that changed the course of his life.

It’s my dad’s story, but it’s also a part of my story. If those kids hadn’t shared their love of the gospel…if they hadn’t sung their hearts out… if he hadn’t had the Book of Mormon in his home… if he hadn’t been courageous and decided to be baptized, he wouldn’t have met my mom and I wouldn’t be here.

I believe in the miracles of music and the courage of youth.

As I sing in this choir with 300 kids ages 12-18, I am having a powerful experience.There are songs that I still cannot sing the whole way through without stopping for tears.

I hope someone in the audience will be touched by this music. I know that music can change lives.

*Butler Middle School is actually on 2700 E.

Concert black

Timothy had his first band concert this week. Bravo! He and his band did an excellent job. I am so proud of Timothy, but not enough to let him keep my black music stand in his room where he practices. This week I carefully reclaimed my stand and left my old silver one in its place. Someday you’ll get a nice black stand, Timothy. But we’ve got to pay for that trombone first.

This next week I’ll probably see our older kids wearing concert black every day. Recently, the orchestra director for Les Miserables had a moment of panic when he realized that they had only two pianists for the show when they really needed three. Paige was recruited to play. When the kids practice their songs on the piano, I sing along. One minute I’m Eponine and the next I’m Enjolras. Ha!

With all of the show business going on with the church musical and Les Miserables, I’m taking this day to do a super amount of laundry, shop, and prepare mentally for what’s ahead next week.

I’ve got my housework pearls on. It’s go time.

On the Perimeter

I asked a friend to give me some photos that he took at Youth Conference last June. I took hundreds of photos that week but had few pictures of Paige and nothing of myself. I was hoping that someone had taken a picture of us when we were riding horses, but there weren’t any.

As I went through hundreds of pictures, I found a pattern in where I can be found in big groups. I am usually on the perimeter, watching silently. I started to feel pity for that woman who never seemed to be in the middle of things, but I caught myself as I entered this trap that would make me feel of less value.

I have good relationships with the youth, but it’s through individual conversations, teaching Sunday lessons, and writing that these relationships have been made. From the perimeter, I see many things that people in the middle of the action can miss. There is a place for each kind of personality. And I can join in the middle of things, too. It’s just not where I spend most of my time.

1-IMG_0733 — Fun on the Perimeter with both youth and leaders. Just after this photo was taken, I joined in the line dancing we were watching.

Hooray for the introverts of the world. (I’m not saying that the above people are introverts.) We seek to know people on a deep level, we think before we speak, and we watch before we join in a group or a conversation. When we talk to people, you can be sure that we are investing our hearts and a lot of energy to the conversation. These are all great attributes.

Spring Lake Views

Long before my parents bought the Round House in Spring Lake, this was a special place in our family. My great-grandparents lived in Spring Lake and farmed there in the 1930’s through the early 1960’s. I remember trips to Spring Lake to visit the old house, the trout farm, and the little lake. There is something so beautiful about this rural area. In fact, the lake (as it used to be before the trees were all removed) is one of the places I think about when something unpleasant is happening.

At the base of the Secret Garden there is a beautiful view of the Payson Temple.

I love the meandering pathways through periwinkle and oak in the Secret Garden.

The new house is nearly finished. Our fingers are crossed that we can eat our Thanksgiving dinner there.

Trudy

What a happy surprise to have my friend Trudy and her mother drop in with English candies and all their news. They’ve lived in America for many years, but they are originally from England. Her mother’s voice and accent are unforgettable to me.

Trudy moved in down the street when I was about 13. We became friends after I tried to comb out all the tangles in her hair when she got pneumonia and had to spend weeks in bed. I had good times at their home. I loved their Christmas celebrations with traditional English fare in lavish portions in a beautiful presentation on their table. Trudy was there to help me get ready for my prom date; she was there when I made transitions to high school, college, and a new apartment. I played the violin for her missionary farewell. We dried each other’s tears and sometimes we were silly.

Trudy’s hair is beyond gorgeous, and these two women are masterful teachers and they love children. Each has an advanced degree in education. I didn’t have a maid of honor or a bridesmaid at my wedding because Trudy was serving a mission in California and I couldn’t imagine anyone else standing in that role. She’s such a dear and generous friend. I am so glad she took the time to visit!

Forty

Well.

What a nice birthday celebration. I wrote 40 letters this week to important people in my life. What a great way to feel completely content with everything and everyone. My life is full of miracles, including the placement and timing of friends, teachers, and family.

On my birthday, cards and kind gestures arrived in abundance. I enjoyed a lunch with my lunch date, Mark, who slicked back his hair and wore his fabulous new glasses, and my mom and one of my sisters. I got to hear the kids perform on the piano. I felt healthy and I had energy. I’ve loved playing my new violin, which was Richard’s birthday gift. The sun was shining and the light was golden and the view from every window was colorful because of the autumn leaves. I watched the full moon rise over the mountains. We shared delicious milkshakes as a family.

One of the songs from our church musical is about finding evidence of our Heavenly Father’s hand in our lives. It has a line which says,

“For how could we hope to see His face, who never could see His hand?”

This week as I listened and sang along to the music in my kitchen, the truth of that line made me a little breathless with emotion. Gratitude (acknowledging His hand) is a step to seeing His face. What a comfort to see His love. What joy in the seeking.