Life according to Angela – Page 94

Whirlwind

There is no writing going on in a whirlwind. But here are a couple of pictures of things we have been up to. Richard’s mom celebrated a birthday with us and we welcomed Sara home from her mission over the weekend.

We checked on Spring Lake and admired the foundation.

Richard’s parents stayed for a few days and then Russ’s family stayed. There was Indian food, the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit, a piano recital, a district math test, baseball games, an overnight retreat in Midway, and a violin-piano duet in a church in Spanish Fork.

We put together an answer to an art-themed prom invitation.

Daniel’s friends spent several days in the basement constructing a physics project… with lots of Lego man spectators.

I’m glad the pace isn’t always this busy, but it was good to see Richard’s family and to be among so many good friends.

Paradoxes in a Narrow Canyon

We visited some slot canyons among 31 friends on Friday. Most passages through these canyons were not too narrow, but there were a few places that we needed to slither and slide. The young kids ran through them with ease, leaving the adults behind. I did just fine, even though I feel claustrophobic and trapped at the car wash and even the drive up lane at McDonald’s. The rest of our family is fearless, so I didn’t worry about them.

The essence of our personalities emerged when we were faced with a decision between a significant drop or a very narrow passage through the rock. Each person chose a path, facing different levels of fear and trepidation. A team was required to get everyone through this tight spot. The men went through the narrow passage and then helped lower the rest of the group down the hole between boulders. Some teenagers stayed behind to help, too. I found myself being brave for a change and not feeling panic. I had to trust that those who were lowering me through this crevice had been through it before me, had a thorough knowledge of each ledge they told me to navigate, and finally, that they had the strength to lower me safely to the ground.

Many truths about life and the gospel are paradoxes. For instance, you would think that accepting help from others would make me feel weak or powerless, but the opposite was true. Exercising faith and trust is an act of courage and strength of will. Faith, when grounded in something true, becomes very empowering. Also, when I allowed myself to be helped and even carried for a few seconds, I felt valued and treasured. No doubt others experienced different lessons based on the role they played in the canyon and their life experiences.

We all have good memories from the day and many lessons were taught. I will always remember that lesson of courage in faith and the resulting feelings of worth that I experienced in the canyon. I was grateful for people who sacrificed to help us make it through that narrow and scary spot.

He is Risen

Easter music has accompanied me this week in the car. I’m working through Handel’s Messiah sung by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir this afternoon. Today the choir at church sang two beautiful numbers. I am thankful for music at Easter time. It gives voice to what’s in my heart and helps me make this a real day of celebration.

Easter week

I have been looking forward to this week for a long time. It’s Spring Break and the kids are home with me. Hooray!

It’s also Easter week. To celebrate, each day I am focusing on something specific to be a better disciple of Christ. I’m focusing on personal religious practices, missionary efforts, and service. When I first started thinking of what I could do each day, the ideas were pretty basic, but now that I have this focus on trying to be a better disciple, I find that the day is full of unexpected and interesting opportunities and there is a spirit of adventure in the search and in the acts.

Jesus Christ really is the great liberator.

No Speck so Troublesome as Self

I am reading Middlemarch by George Eliot. It is taking me forever. It’s a real study in human psychology. One character named Mr. Casaubon is someone you learn to abhor, but also understand. His main problem is selfishness. He believes his personal project is a sacrifice for mankind, but really, his work serves to feed his ego. He doesn’t realize how his pride and selfishness taint his view of humanity. He misinterprets acts kindness as insults to his abilities. He is hyper-sensitive to suggestions, thinking they are criticisms. His focus on self shows the smallness of pride and the insecurity that follows. He’s such an interesting character.

Will not a tiny speck very close to our vision blot out the glory of the world, and leave only a margin by which we see the blot? I know no speck so troublesome as self.

-Middlemarch by George Eliot

An empty frame

I have decided to hang a few pictures above my desk. Here I will display a few of the life events, people, and accomplishments that are important to me. I have a photo of my college graduation, my seminary class in Texas, the Young Women in Arizona in front of the Mesa temple, our kids beside the community pond that we maintained in Arizona, a violin performance, and a few others.

I am having trouble finding a photo to represent what I am accomplishing right now.

What I do is repetitive. It involves a lot of time behind the wheel of the van. It is messy. It is either very quiet or very noisy. My life is the observation of tiny expressions, mumbled teenage words, small conversations, and lessons. It’s not on stage; I’m not posing in front of a great monument; there are no journals waiting to publish my words. But it is full. And it is good.

Mothering (our own children or others’ children) is full of minute acts. It’s creation. The world is focused on finished products. Because motherhood is creation, the work is never really finished.

I have decided to hang an empty frame on my wall to remind myself that the life I am living right now is what I came here to do, but a photo wouldn’t be able to capture the facets of it. My empty frame will remind me that THIS stuff that I am doing right now is my greatest work.

Now that I write this, rather than an empty frame, I think a small mirror could be my reminder to keep creating.

A lesson from seedlings

A favorite spot in our home is the kitchen in the morning when the light comes through the windows. Light coming over a mountain has a different quality than any other kind of sunrise.

This morning the light is streaming across our little tomato seedlings sitting in the window. Earlier today I noticed that their 1 1/2 inch stems were all angled toward the window. I rotated them so they curved away from the light. Already I can see them straightening up and turning the other direction toward the light.

They have it figured out. No matter what changes occur, they will seek the light. We can learn a lesson from the seedlings. We can’t afford to turn away from the Savior. Sometimes that means giving up things we love or seeing popular philosophies for what they really are: a means of turning us away from life-giving light.

As an observer and a participant in these perilous times, I don’t believe that we need more sophistication, but more simplicity. The light is predictable and strong and we simply need to turn toward the light, angling our spirits, our actions, our thoughts, and our words in line with the source. It helps to remember that there is power in that. The light is the source of energy behind those enormous redwoods and the source of energy to make delicious fruits. We need the Savior every minute, and we can’t afford to turn away from him.

Being an Aunt

We had a few cousins over on Sunday afternoon during General Conference. I took a picture of what they looked like as it began. Five minutes later, the cousins were looking for something to do.

I promise that this wasn’t my idea, but they decided they wanted to sew. They had never sewn anything before (they are in preschool and kindergarten) but they saw that Mark knew how to embroider, so they wanted to do that, too.

They embroidered little sketches I made of swords as we watched Conference.

The older brother was so excited about his sword that I framed that he decided he wanted to do another project: the Easter Bunny. And he wanted it to be pink.

Does anyone believe me that they wanted to do this? These little boys sat for an hour together, then the older brother sat for another hour, completely focused on their work. I sat with them, threading needles and saying good job. It was focused attention and I loved it.

They had a good time here, and that was a relief. I know that I am not the fun aunt or the young aunt. But yesterday, I felt like my version of an aunt was okay. I am the aunt who will untangle knots in your thread, make drawings for you, and feed you carrot sticks and lemon bars.

I’m also the aunt with the fun kids to play with. There was a mighty game of dress up clothes and battles in the basement. It was a good time, and I am glad that my brother could take his older kids to a session of Conference in the Conference Center.

I love you; Zarahemla, and an anniversary

Dear Reader,

First, have I told you lately how amazing you are? Well, you’re amazing, and the best little online community. You are family, our friends from living in different states, and recently, you are friends in our Utah neighborhood.

I love you, Texas! (Not the fire ants. You hurt my babies.) I love you, Arizona! (Not the heat. You nearly killed me.) I love you, Utah! (Not the inversion) I love you, friends in many other places!

Since I’m an introvert and won’t make a phone call, please know that I think of you as I write. This blog is mostly a love letter to family and friends. My older kids read the blog faithfully, and this makes me feel like I can still be their teacher and their friend when I have fallen asleep before anyone’s bedtime (last night…and often) or other times when I’ve created other motherhood epic fail moments.

Next, let’s talk about the book of Mosiah in The Book of Mormon. Don’t worry, it’s just a little sermon.

Most classes I have attended about Mosiah include a big diagram of groups of people from different origins, some splintering off for a time, but everyone coming together in the land of Zarahemla. The details make me tired, so I normally skim Mosiah 25 when all the groups come together.

But last week I didn’t skim and I finally learned a lesson from Mosiah 25. You have all of these groups, and they’ve been through a lot, and everyone has something to share. They gather and take time to listen to one another’s stories. As they listen, they begin to see patterns of the Lord’s hand in their lives. I focused on the emotions they felt as they try to blend their cultural backgrounds and understand experiences. They feel awe, joy, pain, joy and pain. Amazingly, this sharing (and allowing themselves to feel for others) becomes a catalyst for developing concern not just for one another, but for their enemies.

So in real life, I’m a member of a community and a church, and I visit neighbors and I try to be friendly in my own way. I grow in my capacity to love people who are different as I listen.

I haven’t been much of a listener to my “virtual” community. My biggest request from readers is that I should allow comments. Perhaps we have missed some opportunities to grow in friendship because I’ve done all of the sharing.

I’m celebrating the fifth anniversary of this blog on Sunday. It’s growing up and I’m going to allow comments this year. Your opinions and experiences range over a full spectrum; you’re delightful people; I enjoy hearing from you. If you don’t feel like sharing, that’s okay, too. There will be no guilting for comments and I’ll be nice if you disagree with me, but take a few hours to consider whether to be harsh. If that isn’t long enough, take a year to consider. I’m very sensitive.

Happy fifth anniversary, little blog. I’ve written nearly 950 posts. Some of you have read every word. Thank you. The posts are saturated with ideas and whims, family activities and memories, and it’s grown beyond my original vision for it. I’ve grown a bit, too. And let’s not forget how many inches the kids have grown since we began writing about our lives.

Happy fifth anniversary-of-being-brave-and-sharing-thoughts-online to me!

Happy General Conference weekend with love,

Angela

Time Management for Creative Types

Is it Friday yet? I am feeling the drain from the week already. I need a day of creativity, a nap, and some time outside to refuel.

Just after I wrote that post about managing time and housework, a friend posted a link to a blog post which showed graphics by RJ Andrews of some research done by Mason Curry about how great thinkers managed their time. It was fascinating.

Here are a few graphics by RJ Andrews from that post, and the link to the original post is here: From Mozart to Dickens: How history’s greatest thinkers managed their time. The graphics show the day divided into 24 hours, with 6 a.m. in the “3 o’clock” position and 6 p.m. in the “9 o’clock” position.

There are many more examples on the website. Walks, naps, meditation, and some time to socialize seem to be important elements to a creative life. Balance seems to be one of the things that I am always working to achieve with my time. Of course it take effort for me to carve out time for exercise, but oddly enough, I have to force myself to sit for 30 minutes or so when it’s lunchtime and rest a bit. Why is rest and creativity difficult to justify?