Letters from Home

I spent some time making tissue paper carnations with first graders this week. I came home and made more and now I have a shelf full of happy paper carnation bouquets. I don’t know why handling paper is a favorite activity of mine.

We aren’t quite finished with the Halloween candy, but Valentine’s Day came anyway, and along with candy came a great variety of Valentines for the elementary boys. We exchanged Valentines each year with the home school groups in Arizona, so this wasn’t completely new; however, the amount of candy and the selection of Valentines is more plentiful and varied in public school.

My favorite quote of the week came from Timothy as he looked through his Valentines as we ran an errand in the car: “Why did she give me a Frankenstein Valentine?”

Frankenstein?

You know what? He DOES look a little like Frankenstein. Both Mark and Timothy received this Valentine. Ewwwww.

23 years ago, I was taking violin lessons from Liz Deters. She played the violin for Fiddler on the Roof at Sundance Summer Theater. When she went on vacation that summer, I got to fill in for her in the orchestra pit.

She told me, after handing me the paycheck, “Angie, now you are a professional violinist.”

I was 15 and my hair was very big. Enjoy your laugh. My mom asked me to pose  in front of the orchestra pit, which was a cold, dark, primitive arrangement which was covered with insufficient plastic when it rained. I depended heavily on the accordion player and I made some big mistakes, but I did it. I played for a huge audience.

This experience, although small, meant so much to me. It was the biggest moment in my violin career, and one of only two gigs for which I have been paid.

I didn’t choose to follow violin dreams. I never felt like I fit in with the company that I kept. The crowd was elite and intense. My poor skill in scales and theory as well as my lack of a broad knowledge of violin repertoire are my weaknesses.

However, I have always felt that I had a gift, even if it wasn’t well honed. I told myself that when people asked me to play, I would say yes. I have said no to requests only two times in the 29 years that I have played.

Saying yes is the price to keep my skills.

Funerals, missionary farewells, firesides, Stake Broadway shows, Church and community Christmas concerts, sacrament meetings, mountain hillsides, and desert landscapes are a small list of my amateur venues over the years. I’ve also been a part of a couple of ensembles and I was the concert master in an orchestra in Tucson.

Since moving back to Utah, I have been asked to play OFTEN. I’m working to reestablish a good practice schedule. Last night I had a great time at the Stake Broadway Review rehearsals. I get to play Fiddler again, and I’m loving it.

The show is on February 23rd. Come!

Earlier this week I declared it “Care Package Day” and I prepared several packages for people who weren’t expecting anything. I didn’t spend much; I found a paperback book, a little chocolate, and some novelties. For some people, I just wrote a letter. I like to imagine their reaction when they get these unexpected tokens of my affection in their mail box.

This little activity got me through the last murky days of January. Hooray! It’s good for everyone.

Mark has quite a collection of animals in hibernation with him these days.

He’s very accommodating to let them take over the bed. Such a lovey!

I wander to the window of our living room before bed each night. I sit and look across the valley at the lights. The white stillness is such a comfort.

We have experienced 3 seasons in Utah. The lackadaisical summer evenings made way for spectacular autumn leaves and sunsets; the winter is a welcome rest with its slower and deliberate pace. I think often of the tulip bulbs we planted outside, ready to come up in a few weeks to celebrate the arrival of spring.

While I make it a point not to let the weather rule my mood or plans, there are undeniable voices in each season, teaching me and pulling at my moods. Winter teaches me that it is okay to rest. The illnesses of winter remind me to be thankful for health. The snow brightens an otherwise darker world, reminding me to keep hope. Winter is a time for rest and study. Winter is the only time I can see the lights across the valley because the leaves on the trees normally block the view.

Perhaps today if you’re feeling winter blues, you can find a winter truth or a winter window view and love it.