Category: Marriage

April 3 letter

Dear Friend,

Here is a letter to begin the month of April.

Our lives feel like they are on pause in this endless winter with so much snow that our canyon is closed.

We watched general conference all weekend. For us, this looks like Legos and blocks on the floor, blankets on the sofas and chairs, a whiteboard and markers for making summaries of talks, and so many snacks. Every crumb of snacks that I poured into bowls was consumed. I made cinnamon rolls and broccoli soup, and served a key lime pie and lots of other things. We walked each day to restore ourselves after the stupor of watching television.

I write this on a scheduled lazy morning. We are expecting another pile of snow today. (Happy spring break to us!) I can’t get excited about this week of snow and the removal of Mark’s wisdom teeth. In fact, I dread, dread, dread the wisdom teeth appointment. (Snuggling deeper into a blanket) Maybe if I think about Easter and make some plans that will help.

I am also watching another flight for Tim. He is always chatty and energized when he gets a transfer, which for the Micronesia Guam mission means an oversea flight. Richard watches YouTube videos analyzing plane crashes for enjoyment when I am not around. He knows that I don’t need to feed my mind any more death scenarios. I will be glad when the little green dot on the website lands in Guam later today, which is tomorrow for Tim.

I had several unconnected conversations with friends last month that led me to pick up my orthodontic retainers and wear them again. Never stop wearing your retainers is my piece of wisdom for today. There are lots of retainers in our lives, not just orthodontic ones: Date nights, repentance, the sacrament, finding God in prayer, finding Jesus in scripture study… Never stop with the retainers.

I have a quilt to finish, but I think I will wait to shop for more fabric. My stack of books is growing. Last week I was a little sick, and one night I went to bed discouraged by what I hadn’t accomplished. But then I felt the impression to consider all I HAD accomplished that day, despite all. Sometimes we just need to make a backwards TO DO list, and simply list what’s DONE. For me, this is the ultimate self care routine.

It is Holy Week. Happy Easter celebrations await.

Love,

A

For you, I would keep working on me.

Many years ago, I wrote a post about this little 2″ x 2″ tile that I pulled from the floor during the demolition of my parents’ cabin. These very old tiles were so fragile, and my efforts to extract them mostly ended in them crumbling to pieces. It took a long, careful effort to dislodge this one. I wrote how the process of removing this tile was like helping people make changes in their lives. I displayed this tile to remind me to be patient and gentle with others, but I was definitely overlooking a beam in my own eye.

Later, I found this quote, “For you, I would keep working on me.” This challenged my reason for having this tile on display. I realized that I should think of myself as the stubborn tile.

I still display this tile, but it is no longer just a reminder to be loving and patient with others. It reminds me to keep working on me, and that it is God’s hand that lovingly frees us.

For Heavenly Father,

For Richard,

For my family,

For my friends and neighbors,

I will keep working on me.

No lentil soup?!!

We celebrated Richard’s birthday this weekend with all the good things. He is definitely worth celebrating. We had so much fun that I *think* he will forget that I neglected to buy a key ingredient for his birthday meal so it had to be postponed. Also, I sewed him a minky winter hat which turned out to be too small for his sweet head. Really, though, in memory, the wins should outlive the fails. I hope.

A very fun dinner in an Alpenglobe in Midway
Paige attended her new ward and discovered one of her youth leaders from Arizona is a ward member there. I call that a miracle

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.

MLK weekend

Mark assembled our new furniture because he is awesome.

Use me, God. Show me how to take who I am, who I want to be, and what I can do, and use it for a purpose greater than myself.

Martin Luther King Jr.

We are experiencing a fullness of living, with its challenges, loss, connections, fun, and opportunities to serve. Have I cried this week? Oh, yes. I have also laughed, worked, and tried to repair my mistakes. In my daily journal of God’s tender mercies, I wrote during a particularly difficult time last week that my family was a great comfort. Because of them, I had hope for a softer, gentler time ahead. It came as our older children gathered for Sunday dinner and we talked about the influence of a good friend who passed away. It came as we listened to Tim talk about his missionary work and show an interest in his siblings. It came as Richard, Mark, and I spent all weekend together, living.

A new television on a different wall

We bought a new television for Christmas, and this began the rearrangement of chairs, tables, pictures, plants, decor, floor coverings, power cords, dishes, and bookshelves throughout the house. We are mostly making do with the furniture we own, so this has taken some trial and error to find the “next” perfect place for each piece. One morning, after days of shifting, I looked over the rooms and I was finally satisfied. If our furniture could click like a padlock, this is the sound the living room would have made. I’m just going to own that it was kind of fun to rethink the rooms where I spend my days.

Just the Baby

Here we are at Hale Center Theater to see A Christmas Carol. It was wonderful.
Temple Square
Tim turned 20 this week.

To celebrate Tim’s birthday, Richard and I made a temple appointment. As I finished our temple session and entered the celestial room, I was greeted by a temple worker as I never have before. He simply said “Hi,” not a more formal “hello” or reverent nod, but a joyful “Hi!” It made me think of the welcome I hope for in heaven, just a familiar “Hi.”

Last Sunday at dinner, I gave a simple baby in a manger to each of our children for Christmas, a reminder that Christmas takes different forms during our lives, and sometimes it feels incomplete, with a loss or absence of a loved one. I have learned that Christmas can still be celebrated without the full scene. The simplest Nativity, without any of the other characters surrounding Christ, is still complete because of the Baby in the manger. Christ is the only essential, and he is always there. I also believe He wants a familiarity with us, a relationship that will continue forever. I believe he also wants to greet us with a familiar, “Hi,” someday.