A year ago I couldn’t have told you what a bluetooth was; today I rejoiced when the bluetooth started working again for Daniel’s robot.
A year ago I said I would never have a blog.
A year ago I was a passive member of my neighborhood homeschool community; this year I am leading it.
A year ago I regretted buying these shoes. I think I like them better now.
It’s amazing what a year can bring.
Tonight a friend called to tell me about the moon rock that is visiting Tucson for 3 days. Yes, you read correctly: a moon rock! One of seven specimens you can touch in the whole world!
She said, “I thought you’d like to know about it because you love to touch things of science and the things of God.”
Zap! That one went right to my heart.
Thanks, Becky. I’m absolutely going to the museum on Monday to touch that moon rock myself. I’ll post pictures!
Yes, I realize I have overused the exclamation point in this post.
Leadership is the art of getting someone else to do something you want done because he wants to do it.
Dwight D. Eisenhower
My role as a teacher is less about imparting and more about leading.
And that’s why I have nothing to say this week. I’ve been living the art of leadership. This means I’ve just been too busy studying things I will ask my children to study, organizing, and forming a vision for the upcoming months. My brain has been intensely busy and my hands have lifted many things. None of it shows well on a blog.
Today I had to halt for a little while and rest my aching side. Sometimes the old scar tissue acts up and I spend the day hugging a heating pad. But it’s a small thing.
As I have rested, I’ve been able to see things I wouldn’t normally see in my usual hustle and bustle. I’ve watched some seeds that have (figuratively) sprouted in my children: jobs accomplished, attitudes and emotions checked, and skills honed. The true test of the training and education I try to provide will manifest itself in the level of self-discipline and love my children learn. I haven’t been disappointed today. There is a long way to go, but I’ve been given a glimpse of some progress today.
It would be nice if I could redo this evening. However, like adolescence, I wouldn’t want to go through any of THAT again, so I guess I’ll just fast forward to tomorrow and hope for better presentation, motives, and methods.
Continuing with the remote control theme, let’s go channel surfing in my brain. *disclaimer* The following thoughts, views, ideas, and expressions are not to be taken seriously…
*CLICK*
Paige was on the front page of the newspaper today in prima ballerina glory.
*CLICK*
I think Christmas Card giving has all but died. I have heard from a small collection of friends. Our cards remain on the shelf, not quite finished. Maybe I should get back on Facebook so I can receive everyone’s wishes electronically.
*CLICK*
I really don’t want to read about Mao and the Communists tonight… or tomorrow.
*CLICK*
Food drives! Food drives! Food drives!
*CLICK*
Daniel needs a challenge.
*CLICK*
I wonder if the dentist will notice that Timothy’s neck is filthy tomorrow during his appointment.
*CLICK*
This is a test of the emergency broadcast syst—
*DOUBLE CLICK*
(band playing Auld Lang Syne.)
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Lately, I’ve been thinking about the value we place on certain things. I don’t think of my time in terms of money. I don’t have a paycheck, so it seems silly to do it. However, if someone talks loudly during one of my violin performances, the time I took to practice and prepare seems wasted and I feel undervalued. I’ve been thinking about value in terms of time management. How should I best spend this next half hour? Should I attend to my writing or should I do the dishes and prepare for company tomorrow? Tonight the sorting and ordering of my thoughts is more valuable.
Time is the currency we use to show what we most value. Some people receive a paycheck for their time; others find other means of assigning value. I like tangible proof that I existed. I don’t have pay stubs, but I keep charts and journals and blogs and I publish my children’s work in a local newsletter every month.
Since writing the title of this post, I’ve veered from course a little. But I want to share my funny story to introduce my final point.
There was a Louis Vuitton purse in my mom’s closet in the 90’s. I think it was a hand-me-down from Aunt Susan. Mom didn’t like the purse, and let me have it. I was looking for a bag that could carry diapers without looking like a diaper bag. I had seen the logo before and figured it must be popular. After carrying it around town for a while, this cavernous purse with no lining or pockets didn’t suit my needs. And it really wasn’t very attractive.
So I donated it to charity along with some worn out clothes.
Later, I learned the “value” of the bag I had thrown away. I felt sorry that I hadn’t realized what the bag had cost; but then I felt silly for worrying about what value the world has placed on an ugly purse with some initials on it.
On a personal level, I’ve learned that feeling valuable is something that shouldn’t be measured by what others think. Being valuable and feeling valued by others are not always going to coincide…Just something to think about as you google the price of a Louis Vuitton bag…
There’s a lot to do; Things that we’re expected to do because it’s Christmas time. There are 4 food drives that I am aware of this week for different groups to which I belong. There are performances and craft activities; dinners to attend and cards to address. I’m still waiting for that Christmas inspiration to ring in my mind, telling me what I need to do to make this Christmas special for our family this year.
I’m pretty sure that special “something” won’t be anything spectacular or expensive.
One year the “thing” was to help purchase a musical instrument for someone.
Another year, it was to sit in at a Mormon Tabernacle Choir rehearsal on Temple Square. That seems like a long time ago.
One year I went into labor in the midst of over 100 donated Christmas gifts and didn’t make it to the hospital in time to deliver. It’s taken nearly 7 years for me to say, “Boy, that was special.” But really, it was, even then. I held my baby extra close that Christmas and the donated gifts made it to their families. And it was unforgettable; A Mary and Joseph moment, even.
Some years, the special “thing” has been to visit our parents. This is the third year my parents are on their mission, so no Spring Lake Christmas for us this year. We may hop in the car after Christmas and visit someone. Who knows? I certainly don’t.
Christmas is saturated with expectations. I don’t care who you are. You just expect to feel a certain way at some point. I am hoping that I haven’t missed an opportunity help create a memorable Christmas for my family with my indecision and busy-ness.
The tree is up and we are healthy. We are thriving. This year, it may not be one “thing” that defines our Christmas. It may be the memory of a summation of warm feelings and peace. But I’d like it to be more. I’d like an element of sacrifice.
The first Christmas gift I gave Richard was a copy of O Henry’s The Gift of the Magi. It sums up my Christmas expectation: The best gifts are those that require sacrifice. And finding the right sacrifice seems more tricky to me when there’s money in the bank. From my abundance, I wish to give until I feel a lack. And I want to teach that to my children. This doesn’t mean that I believe in spending all the savings. It means sacrificing self to make someone else happy.
There’s the rote answer, “Time is the best gift.” I’m looking for something beyond that. I’m looking for something requiring an element of myself that only I can give, which requires more than time or money.
And in the writing of this, I think I have found my answer.
I’ll keep it my little secret for now. Merry Christmas.
This photo was taken of me and Mark several months ago, but I’m pretty sure this is what I looked like last night after a very long and strenuous week. Teaching 3 grades, playing violin for the stake choir, putting on a pack meeting, keeping house, and hauling, lifting, and organizing for the art class on Friday wore me completely out.
Plus, I’ve been reading. Oh, do I have to admit what I’ve sunk my straggly extra minutes into? No, I don’t. But it rhymes with,
(It was such an indulgence that I should have at least bent the spine on the cheap paperback.)
This Saturday is simply over too soon. Errands, shopping, reading and practicing have devoured my plans to clean this house.
And now I’m off to play violin for a crowd. Wish me well.
Adolescence = Suddenly fearing recognition as an individual while trying to become one.
Recently someone wrote to me and explained that during adolescence the mind starts playing tricks on us and we lose self confidence.
I believe that this loss of self-confidence is the beginning of a more universal malady that lasts long past adolescence. I like to call it the feminine dark side. Not every woman crosses over to the dark side but most do on occasion.
This feminine dark side is the thought process that tells us we don’t measure up.
Self absorbed women love to gossip. Self-absorption is the impetus for feelings of isolation in a crowd. It’s the reason we don’t say “hi” to a stranger in church or take the time to understand someone before we make judgments. It’s the reason we take offense at things someone said. It’s the reason we don’t invite someone into our circle, fooling ourselves with some excuse like, “Her hair is so cute and she is so popular. She would never want to be friends with me.” And the whole thing makes me weary.
Self-absorbed feelings of inadequacy are a counterfeit to the inspired humility required of a disciple of Christ. As a counterfeit, self-devaluation may look and feel like humility for a time. But the counterfeit doesn’t come from a true source and can’t lead us to become better. Humility is a gift of the Spirit which can lead us to improve.
Recently someone asked in fun, “Could Angela just please come out of the house with her hair a mess and her children grumpy?” In short, “Could she put on her worst face for us at least one time so we can feel better about ourselves?”(And, since comment was really said just in fun, I’ll reply in fun, “Honey, if you saw all my flaws, it wouldn’t make you feel better, it would make you cry and then make me dinner out of sheer pity.”)
This line of thinking is flawed in at least two ways. First, anyone who has taken the time to know me has seen my faults. Second, I find it poor logic to equate feeling better about one’s self by rejoicing in the faults of others.
So, no. I’ll keep presenting my best side, because that’s the side I’m nurturing. I’m trying to starve the dark side that worries about what others think of me, because most judgments, good and bad, are inaccurate anyway.
And I’ll keep empowering my daughter to do the same. And that means forgetting ourselves and serving and loving and trying to forget flawed comments such as, “She’s too perfect.”
I cancelled my Facebook account two weeks ago. And I don’t miss it a bit. The Facebook honeymoon, for me, was over very quickly. I re-connected with a few people that I haven’t seen in years, but I’m pretty sure I could have found them using other means.
I didn’t love the incessant flow of information… some of it very personal… on my screen. And then there was the scary spam that kept showing up from one of my “friends” on Facebook. I did not want whatever virus she was carrying! I am content with a handful of a few close friends and a yearly Christmas card from others.
I enjoy the blog experience much more because it’s deeper and I my faithful readers are few and cherished. I make it a rule to read just a handful of blogs and to visit in person with friends at least once a week.
But, to each his own. I’m sure Facebook will go on without me. And so will all 135 of my Facebook friends. People with different personalities than mine will continue to be very happy there. A good friend of mine said that Facebook gave her support and companionship at a level she could maintain. She was grateful for the means it gave her to feel supported by friends as she worked late at night. It’s really a testament to the fundamental need we have for connection with others. Facebook, for me, didn’t offer what I needed. It gave the impression of connection, but it was too superficial for my taste.
Post edit addition:
Knowledge can be a burden. Knowing the needs and worries of so many people was also a burden for me. I regretted if I couldn’t meet someone’s need because of distance or time. Maybe you have felt that way, too. Sometimes we have to take a break from too much knowledge and focus on the people in our immediate circle.