Letters from Home

We have been away from home, enjoying extended family. We came home to a house full of Christmas presents we never put away, making it seem like we celebrated 4 Christmases (one at home, one in St George, one in Provo, and once again at home).

We did everything we set out to do this season and more, and those memories will keep us going.

Readers, I am not sure how to proceed. With the new year, I am reevaluating the time it takes to write this blog, as well as its content. In the past, I’ve used this as a forum to celebrate home schooling; I’ve ranted about educational philosophy; I’ve celebrated the children; I’ve reminisced and shared old photos; I’ve regaled you with lists more times than you can comfortably endure. The common theme and motivation has always been a desire to be known. This has not changed, but my time to share has been diminished.

I’ve been thinking about sharing more of my thoughts on the literature I read. When I have tried this, it has been cathartic, but very time consuming. To this point, I have only shared the titles I read in my sidebar, and I certainly have strong opinions about them. Would you be interested in reading some book reviews now and then? Don’t answer that question. I was just teasing. This blog is for me, even though I say it is for you. But I do write because I love you.

As I review this post I ask myself two questions, “Will this ramble in the woods of my thoughts be of any worth to someone besides myself?” and “Why am I not making dinner?”

I need to make dinner. To those of you whom I saw over Christmas break, I am so grateful for our time together. It was marvelous to be with you.

The Christmas cards are not out yet and I will tell you why. I don’t like my hair in the photograph. It’s debilitating perfectionism like this that keeps me quiet, leaving people to think I am aloof or distant or a mute. Perfectionism is the reason I sometimes don’t give the gifts I have made to the people I love. Perfectionism and accompanying fatigue are the reasons I don’t throw more parties or make Christmas goody plates for the neighbors. My perfectionism has stalled the Annual Christmas Video this year. I can’t find the perfect song.

I’ve never been able to fall into the Christmas routine that so many families have: they get their Christmas cards out early; they have a current family portrait on the wall; they shop for Christmas in October. Immediate needs tend to push my Christmas planning and shopping to December.

However, the true Christmas meaning is wrapped in grace. My softest memories and most meaningful times have nothing to do with a perfect photo or the cutest card. The best gift offered to us presented himself in a manger, and the humility and imperfection of the scene reminds me that love doesn’t require perfect presentation. Humble offerings are sometimes the most meaningful.

I took some of my Young Women out for hot chocolate last night.  We talked for hours as the rain fell outside the little shop. We told one another about the favorite gifts we have given and received. The gifts the girls remembered were not expensive. We laughed and enjoyed the memories together of a father placing his gift on the front door of their home (where it remains) because he loved it so much; of a doll given to one of the girls by her brother and father, now in tatters, still sitting in her room. Last night will always be a special memory for me and I did it with messy hair, drove everyone in a cluttered van, and presented no wrapped gifts–just my time and a little hot chocolate.

I’ll get my cards out (I LOVE receiving Christmas cards!) and Richard will make an incredible Annual Christmas Video. I won’t make goody plates, but when I make a good batch of something, I’ll run some next door or across the street. I’ll never shake all of my perfectionist tendencies or my desire to just stay home away from the frantic scenes. But I hope you smile when you think of a time spent together with us this year, even if it’s just been through the blog. I share because I love you.

Yesterday I spoke in Stake Conference.  Giving a talk is something I like to do, and for some reason my panicky personality doesn’t melt down when I speak. I agonized quite a bit over what to say and lost some sleep, but just in time, and with a lot of prayer, the words came.

Someone told me on Saturday that she didn’t think I had a voice. I thought of her as I spoke to all those people and I felt a little vindicated. Of course I have a voice. This introvert actually has a lot of things to say and I felt grateful for the opportunity to speak.

For everyone, Monday means facing the things that were neglected over the weekend. And with all the talk preparation, there are a lot of neglected tasks at my house. I need to focus on my breathing, feed my family, and then get back to work.