Author: Angela

I write so my family will always have letters from home.

Snow pictures

Wednesday morning from the front door.
Richard in front of our snow mountain
The flag of Palau with a snowy backdrop

We had quite a storm this week. The last 3 pictures were taken a day after the nonsense, so the snow has had a chance to compact and melt a bit. We are thankful for the snow and for a high clearance 4-wheel drive vehicle.

Best wishes to our girl

Paige and Michael drove away this morning to live in a new state with all our best wishes and love. She has lived away from home for nearly 8 years, but seeing her room without furniture feels like a final toll of a bell. Today they face a fresh beginning while perhaps we see more evidence of an ending. It is a good, terrible day.

Good job, all of us.

Surprise!

For my Christmas gift, Richard secured a ticket to an Itzhak Perlman concert that was supposed to be tonight. There weren’t two seats available, just one, so he bought the ticket for me. He also insisted on driving me to and from the concert, despite not being able to attend. I filled my pockets with tissues so I could cry as I heard Mr. Perlman play the violin.

But I didn’t meet my violin hero tonight; I met a religious hero instead.

There were a few of us who didn’t get the memo that the concert had been rescheduled, and we congregated at the doors of the music hall in our fine clothes, each showing disbelief in our own way. One of the people was Jean Bingham, former Relief Society General President. Her presence is beautiful and so bright. My interaction with her made me feel that the night wasn’t a loss.

This is my favorite image of Sister Bingham during her presidency. It shows her cheering for missionaries who came home during the early days of 2020. She was a light to me during this confusing time, and I took this screenshot to remember the impact she made on my heart and mind. In many instances, she showed she was a worthy hero during the pandemic.

The Exquisite Hour

I am listening to a different piece of classical music each day as I read the book, Year of Wonder: Classical Music to Enjoy Day by Day by Clemency Burton-Hill. Once I read the few paragraphs for the day, I go on YouTube to search for the piece. I have seen how much the artists matter! Interpretations of the same song are often very different.

I have been doing this for a month now, and I look forward to a new piece each morning. I don’t enjoy every song, but I write simple words in a day planner to describe the music of the day: pensive, incessant, folksy, triumphant… and try to imagine when the music would be most appreciated. I might write that one song would be comforting to listen to when sad, or another captures the joy of a beginning or the tug of a goodbye. I also like to compare different recordings and choose a favorite artist.

The piece I include here today has been playing on repeat all week since Richard and I discovered this recording together. More than a word that best describes this song, its mood and expression, I mark the person I discovered it with. To me, this song will always be about a sweet day spent with Richard in our 28th year of marriage.

Thinking is work

So wrapped up in my thoughts, I misread the clock yesterday and made dinner very early. With my extra evening hours, I redecorated the shelves to embrace February, ready or not.

It is ward conference season and I am thinking a lot about my stake speaking assignments and ministering to very different needs among the wards. I am thinking about Paige and Michael’s move, and I am on the hunt for all the places I can display Paige’s art. Thinking is work. Writing talks and lesson plans is work. Planning is work, and so is settling into a new reality. When I accomplish something tangible, like cleaning out a closet or desk, I call it a nice break from the more arduous and intangible work going on within. Thinking is work.

Winter nest

It is winter proper; cold weather, such as it is, has come to stay. I bloom indoors in winter like a forced forsythia; I come in to come out. At night I read and write, and things I never understood become clear; I reap the harvest of the rest of the year’s planting.

Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

This was a paragraph that I read today and continue to think about. I, too, like the winter habits of reading, being still, thinking, and writing. I can flourish in dark winter as long as I have reminders that I have friends out there.

This afternoon I hung a very large magnetic board to display handwritten notes and some art. You’re right, it isn’t arranged very well yet, but we’re on our way to something good.