Author: Angela

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

Growing Up

Next week I will turn 50 years old. I found this little piece of my writing from a few years ago that describes what growing up looked like for me in my 40’s,

Years ago, I was in my smug thirties, so self-assured that I considered myself a lifestyle expert. I think our move to Utah in 2012 was the end of many things, including the belief that I know very much. Over the years, my writing about parenting and education has slowed, and a trend towards more religious thought comes through…

To grow up is to give up idols, even the ones that we thought were safe to keep: dependence on a friend, youth, surroundings, talents, processes, and routines.

To grow up is to be shaken, again and again, out of comfy shoes to march in new ways.

[In my 40’s], “growing up” looks like squared shoulders and brisk walks into unfamiliar rooms as a [church] leader, sometimes seeing smiles fade with my approach. It’s white knuckles, holding on to a few words that are true. It’s finding meaning in the warmth of the sun hitting my hair as I pray before facing a challenge. It’s a racing pulse while saying the things God puts into the heart. It’s choosing silence in order to snuff out animosity. It’s discerning light, despite people expressing doubt and fear. It’s goodbye after goodbye. It’s disappointing people. It’s watching myself become ridiculous and also deaf. It’s ignoring the urge to blend in. It’s giving, despite an absence of response or a negative response to the gift.

This was written in 2020, and in the four years since this time, I have more to add. Mostly, it’s that growing up also brings a new depth of joy: Joy in family, the joy of hope, and the joy of finding God so involved in my life.

Bedside photograph

This photograph sits at my bedside and it makes me feel the blessing of my years with our children. It’s a bright spot in the dull days of grief that I am experiencing. Yes, grief for a good thing like a son going on a mission! The feelings of loss will do their work and change me, and that is a gift. The sadness will also wane in its intensity. So, please be patient and gentle. I am under construction again.

A formula that works

Blue + yellow = green.

Blue=initial reaction to trials

Yellow=God’s response to prayers

Green=courage and determination enhanced as a result of prayer

The formula is clear in Alma 58:9-13. Just read the highlighted words and apply them to a challenge that you are facing. This formula has worked for me my whole life.

MMSK and Conference

Before Mark was set apart as a missionary, he wanted one last gathering with his Sanchez cousins who are his age, so we invited them to spend part of conference weekend here. MMSK is pronounced “misk,” and it’s an acronym of their names. Mostly, there was a lot of nonsense going on as they “watched conference”, but I think that the time together was important.

Mark and Richard attended a session of General Conference on Sunday. They brought the binoculars, which was a great idea.

Mark’s last traditional general conference tower for a while.

When Mark sent in his mission papers last spring, I assumed he would be on a mission long before now. We’ve had a long preparation period, which was good in many ways and challenging in others.

We had time for more spiritual preparation and temple worship. Mark received mentoring in Preach My Gospel and got some work experience from his Sanchez grandparents. We had time to travel this summer.

The long wait means that the bandaid is being removed very slowly. I am pretty fragile lately.

Now that Mark has had a few days of home MTC, he is excited to go to the Provo MTC next week. Everything is as it should be: the wait, the anticipation, the emotions accompanying a goodbye, the excitement, his assignment. Everything.

Mark’s Woods Project 2024

Mark made this bed frame and two side shelves with cabinets during the 2023-24 school year. Getting everything set up in his room has taken some time this summer, and the furniture is beautiful.

The painting was a gift, a very generous gift, and the mountains remind me of our trip to the Grand Tetons this summer.

I have learned a secret about the spaces and rooms that missionaries leave behind. They are holy places because they represent many of the things they have sacrificed in order to serve.