Category Archives: Lessons Learned

Not Alone

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True response to Sunday Scribblings prompt: Guide

I grasped the robe. The volunteer secured the blindfold and nudged me forward.

I stepped tentatively in the dark. Then I heard the voice.

“Let go of the rope!”

I knew the voice: a teenager a few years older than me. He was supposed to make this harder. Another voice joined his.

“Come here! What’re you doing? Where do you think you’re going?”

I’d known they’d try to distract me, and yet I felt disoriented hearing them while blindfolded.

“Let go of the rope and come here!”

“This is where you want to be!”

I held on and stepped forward, ducking beneath a branch and nearly stumbling on a log.

Then I heard another voice: “Rose.”

Rose, my middle name. Only one person called me Rose: my bishop. My heart calmed.

“There’s another log; step more to the left.”

I felt it and stepped around it. The other voices still called, but I didn’t hear them.

“Don’t let go of the rope.”

I held on and walked forward. Then the rope led to two new ropes: one going one way, one the other.

“Choose the rope on the right.”

I followed the rope on the right.

Soon it was over. Taking off the blindfold, I turned to where the voice had been, but my bishop had gone to help the next person.

As my bishop was my guide on the obstacle course, so God provides me a guide on my daily course: His Holy Ghost, a quiet but sturdy, familiar voice amidst the chaos.

When I first heard the prompt “Guide” I tried to think of something more “secular,” but this experience and sentiment kept returning. It reinforces what I said in the About page to this website: my religion is an incredibly important part of my life, and as such, I can’t separate it from my writing.

Discipline to Never Quit

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I was the only girl dressed as a knight.

You can blame it on the fact that I had two older brothers. They’d also participated in the sixth grade medieval banquet: my mother had already made a knight’s costume. Of course that’s what I wore.

The costume was made of felt: two bright orange and two bright red squares. On the orange squares were red lions. On my head I wore a red felt helmet. I had an aluminum foil-covered cardboard sword and shield. Never mind that if someone actually attacked me the felt wouldn’t protect me at all.

I didn’t care that I was a knight until I saw that I was the only girl dressed as one: every other girl in sixth grade showed up to the medieval banquet as a princess.

The medieval banquet was the end of our lengthy unit on chivalry and medieval times, the culmination of six weeks of learning. Fifteen years later, I can only recall two things about the medieval unit:

1. The banquet at which I was the only girl with a cardboard sword

2. The motto I created for my carefully designed family coat of arms

I don’t recall to what purpose we designed a coat of arms. I suppose illustrating a coat of arms has something to do with medieval times. I remember that mine had four small illustrations and a motto. I don’t remember what I drew; all I remember is the motto.

Never Quit.

I had asked my mother to help me with my coat of arms. She was the one that encouraged me to write “Never Quit” at the top of it as the motto.

“Isn’t that what we do in our family?” she asked me. “We hang in there?”

I nodded and wrote it down. Now, in retrospect, I realize that “never quit” is a perfect motto for me. Having insane discipline to persevere has been my life curse and blessing.

Some of the Curses

  • When I got a term paper assignment on the first day of a term, I began research. This means I spent four months agonizing about it, instead of two weeks or two days like everyone else.
  • When I had two weeks to read every page of Moby-Dick, I did it, not even skipping the whale blubber passages. I didn’t lie on the test, either, when I checked the box that said “Yes, I read the entire book.”
  • When I had a chance to go to the Philippines for a weekend with my husband for free, I declined because I had told my church group I’d be there to help the children prepare their musical presentation. I couldn’t let them down.

Some of the Blessings

  • When I was on the summer swim team, I swam a very slow butterfly. In the 50 meter race at one Saturday meet, I was definitely the last one to finish in my heat. But I did it correctly. When the five other girls in the heat were disqualified for incorrect strokes, I ended up with the first place ribbon.
  • When I don’t like my cooking, I try again. Sometimes it tastes better, sometimes not. But I can tell that I’m improving. My husband says I’m the best cook he knows (although he may be biased).
  • When I faced horrible depression in college, I got up each morning and went on with my day, smiling as best I could. I took one step in front of the other to get where I needed to be. Ultimately, I made it through. One day I found I got up without having to tell myself to get up.
  • When I thought I would die from pain and discomfort during labor, I didn’t give up and instead I gave birth to my son.

I’m becoming less rigid when it comes to discipline in some things. For example, I have no problem putting off cleaning the house! Also, after one class of graduate school, I quit, wholly and completely. I wasn’t going to like it, so I decided I wouldn’t continue it for $2,000 a class. I’ve determined the same thing attitude with books: if I don’t like it, I won’t finish it. It is so refreshing to quit something insignificant every now and then.

Ultimately, though, I’m glad I’m disciplined; I’m glad I hold myself to the standard “never quit” (albeit with some caveats). Even the curses listed above have blessings attached to them: I didn’t procrastinate some things, I could answer honestly and not sacrifice my integrity, I could be trusted to follow through on what I said I’d do.

While it was my sixth grade teachers that encouraged me to declare a motto, it was my mother that instilled it in me.

I look at my mother now, persevering to the end of one of her life goals: a PhD, earned one class at a time, one year at a time, first while being a full-time mom and then while being a full-time teacher. I am so proud of my mother, PhD. She practices what she taught me: Never quit.

That is why “never quit” has stayed with me all these years: my mother. I remember a felt knight’s costume, carefully made by my mother.

To my mother.

(True but loose response to Write Anything Bright Stuff #482: Discipline.)

Happy Thoughts

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Today, I found a list on a sticky note inside my pocket hymnal. Because of the items on the list, I believe I wrote it when I was traveling in the Middle East with my BYU semester abroad eight years ago. It’s amazing that the note is still sticky after all these years.

Happy Thoughts

  • laughing
  • the Ah Ha moment
  • blowing in the wind at the front of the boat [on the Sea of Galilee]
  • sunshine
  • blue skies
  • talking with friends
  • hope
  • clear, starry night
  • humming along with songs
  • a dance beat
  • finishing something
  • holding a sleeping baby
  • testimony

I wish I remembered what “the Ah Ha moment” is. It sounds so nice.

What is on your Happy Thoughts list? Was your list different eight years ago?

Sunday Scribblings #112: Quitting

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If he wasn’t born by 3 p.m., I would die. I would quit, that’s all.

“I can’t do this!” I said again.

“You are doing it!” the midwife repeated.

At 3 p.m., I decided not to die. Thirteen minutes later, with one long push, my son appeared, blue and squirmy and tiny.

That night, alone and exhausted, I held my fussy newborn in my arms, willing him to sleep: “I can’t stay awake much longer!”

And I realized I will never quit on him: after birthing him without medication, I can and will handle anything in the challenge called motherhood.

Two Years

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I meant to post this yesterday, but didn’t get the chance. It’s written as if it still were May 20. Since it’s still May 20 in the USA, I guess I can still count it.

Two years ago, my 100-day engagement drew to a close. May 20, 2006 was such a perfect day for me: I had a pleasant breakfast with friends and family, a lovely wedding, and a perfect reception. It was the perfect beginning to our perfect marriage.

Don’t get me wrong: we’re not perfect. And life has its regular ups and downs. But I very happy now, two years later. I am looking forward to the next 48 years! I’ve decided we’re going to live to celebrate 50 years together. My husband tells me that it isn’t very long and I’m going to be very surprised when we actually are celebrating 50 years. We’ll see.

We celebrated by getting our temple recommends renewed. How wonderful that we can be worthy to enter that glorious building!

I am so grateful for my husband, who already believes I’m the woman I some day hope to be.

Winds-day and Lesson 11: Faith in Jesus Christ

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Yesterday, I watched a wind storm.

Paul was napping. I sat at my desk, at my computer.

When I heard a strong wind whip through the trees, I looked out. Our house is on a hill so I see trees for miles.

The sky was cloudy and gray. And there was quite a wind. Autumn leaves fell out of the sky–yellow and orange–but so did bunches of green leaves. A branch whipped across the roof. The neighbors’ garbage cans across the highway toppled over, the “for sale” sign was uprooted, and trees seemed to bend. Our lights flickered. One tree bent close to our home, and I heard something banging against our roof.

I worried: I rushed to Paul’s room.

Paul slept soundly. His eyes remained closed, and he sighed in his sleep. He brought his hand nearer his mouth and bumped his pacifier, which rested on the mattress now. He sighed again and turned his head to look at the wall. I heard the wind, but it was distant. All was calm.

I watched him sleep for a few minutes. Then I left his room, closed the door, and sat at my desk again. I don’t know why I panicked and raced to him during the wind. We were safe inside our home. The wind wasn’t going to knock down our walls: they are strong. We were safe.

But as I watched him sleep, I felt this sudden out-of-control feeling: He’s going to grow up. He’s going to go outside, into the world, away from me. Will he be strong enough against the winds, or will they topple him?

And now, my [son], remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall.

— Helaman 5:12

After a little while, the winds calmed, with only an occasional burst. The clouds didn’t retreat, but the sky lightened a bit.

And then there was a burst of wind, and a full-grown tree toppled over, right through our neighbor’s yard and our neighbor’s fence and our fence and into our backyard.

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As I’ve thought about the tree (and watch it sitting rudely on our lawn), I realized it was only after the worst of the storm was over that the tree succumbed. It had been weakened. In a very real way, the tree it wasn’t strong enough against the winds.

I had thought that the lesson for Sunday school this week was about faith; most of the manual discusses what faith is and examples of faith from the scriptures. But then I looked at the title: Faith in Jesus Christ. It’s not just faith; the first principle of the gospel is “faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.” Believing, a general faith, is not enough to sustain us through the “mighty winds” that the adversary will send our way.

We can have faith that the sun will rise tomorrow; we can have faith that a seed will grow. But we must have faith that Jesus Christ truly did atone for our sins. That is how we return to our Heavenly Father. It is only in and through Christ that we can return to Him.

Joseph Smith called faith “a moving cause of action” and “a principle of power.” It is not a passive concept. The power of faith is incredible: the walls of Jericho came down, Enoch moved mountains, Jared beheld the finger of the Lord. I think of what those people had to do to exercise such faith. Then I think of the power I can receive by exercising faith in Jesus Christ: the ability to return to my Heavenly Father, despite my shortcomings. Wow! That’s more than moving a mountain in my mind.

I must actively build my foundation in Christ, and I must teach my son to build such a foundation. I can only do that if I rely on my own foundation: I am imperfect, but through Christ, I can be perfect.

I must teach my son that he belongs to God, for he is a child of God first. God has entrusted his spirit to me. What a responsibility!

I suspect I’ll always want to check on him when the winds come, even when the day comes that I must let him go outside, into the world. How will his foundation fare against the “mighty winds?”

Lesson 11 of 45

The Great Big Vegetable Challenge and What’s Your Vegetable?

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I have never liked vegetables. I don’t know why. Maybe I relied too much on bagged iceberg lettuce and ranch dressing in my college days and I got tired of it. I like fruit, however, and always enjoy fresh fruit. I have a sweet tooth, and the natural sweetness of fruit is my favorite.

My husband, on the other hand, prefers vegetables. If I set dinner on the table and I have forgotten the vegetable (which happens more often than I should admit), my husband will ask “Where are the vegetables?” and he’ll prepare something.

I could go a long time and not eat green.

But last night, the meal I was making just wouldn’t work. When my husband got home, the kitchen was still dinnerless. (He got home after eight so it’s kind of sad I hadn’t worked something out by then. I was starved.) He said, “Why don’t we just eat these greens?” I had a bag of rocket (known in the USA as arugula) in the fridge. Surprisingly, none of it was wilted (they usually don’t have very good greens here). I consented. But when my husband put the greens on our two plates, there were two huge piles. I tasted some. It wasn’t very good. (And then I had rocket breath — ha ha.)

“I can’t eat that much!” I protested. There’s nothing like a salad for someone who doesn’t like vegetables to begin with.

My husband wasn’t convinced. He pulled things out the fridge for our salads.

“Cut up the leftover steaks,” he began.

I cut up the steak and added it to the salad. Then, at his suggestion, I added olives, sun-dried tomatoes, and shaved Parmesan cheese.

In the meantime, he sliced some red onions, cooked them in balsamic vinegar, and piled them on our salads. He added mustard and olive oil to the remaining balsamic, whisked it into an emulsified sauce, and heated it with some black currant jam. (He’s so good!) He poured that over the salads.

He says that the dressing was too sweet, too much. I don’t know what to say, other than I ate every last piece of green on my plate: it was delicious!

I admit: I left some of the olives. I’ve never like olives. I ate most of them because I’ve been inspired by some food bloggers at The Great Big Vegetable Challenge in London. Here’s their story: Freddie, age seven, did not like vegetables. To cure him of his vegetable-phobia, his family is eating their way through an alphabet of vegetables, getting recipes from around the world and rating each vegetable recipe 1 to 10 (10 is best) on their blog. I think that if Freddie doesn’t like a vegetable in the end, he doesn’t have to eat it, but here’s the catch: he has to try it prepared in at least two different ways. Sometimes it’s the recipe that isn’t good. It seems to me that he’s always rating things from 6 to 10. That’s inspiring.

I can see how different preparations can make a difference: I don’t think I would have liked our rocket salad last night if I’d tried to eat it with Italian dressing and tomatoes, which is what I would have done. I would have eaten a few forkfuls before being disgusted and bored with the greens and going for desert. But the combination of the black currant balsamic dressing, the steak, and the other “goodies” made it very tasty. I was too full to eat ice cream.

I’m going to take the Great Big Vegetable Challenge in my approach to food: if I don’t like a food, that’s OK, but I have to try it a few different ways before I claim I don’t like it.

I’ve eaten mushrooms a number of ways (both raw and cooked), and I still don’t like them. Find me a “good” mushroom or a good mushroom recipe and I’ll try again.

So far, olives are OK, but not my favorite. My husband says we need to find “good” olives and then maybe I’ll like them more. I love a good olive oil — I’d even eat it by the spoonful — so if I could find an olive that tastes that fruity, maybe I could say I love them too.

On the average night, I simply prepare frozen vegetables for dinner. My default vegetable is broccoli: salt, pepper, butter, broccoli … mmm. My husband will always default to peas: “They are like little explosions of taste in your mouth!”

Note that I don’t consider potatoes a vegetable: I consider them a starch. (We have potatoes in some form every night.)

What’s your favorite vegetable?

One-Year Anniversary

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No, this is not my wedding anniversary: this is my blogging anniversary.

In the past year, a lot has happened. My husband and I moved to Australia. I had a baby. I went from working full-time to being a mom full-time. I learned to cook. I had abdominal surgery.

I guess that doesn’t sound like a lot, but I feel like I’ve learned a lot this year.

In the past year, I’ve written more than 80 posts. Here are some of the things I experienced and learned (and wrote about):

For good measure, here are my favorite recipe and my favorite photographs.

In looking back over these posts, I realize that not many of them have anything to do with being in Australia. I could have learned these lessons anywhere. I guess that’s the point of life: we learn what we need to learn, wherever we are.

As a stay-at-home mom, I know that I need an outlet where I can develop my creativity and my own thoughts. That’s why I like my page: it is mine.

Notice that I call it “Rebecca’s Webpage.” It is not our family page. (I don’t think my husband even reads it; if he does, it’s a month after the fact.) At the same time, I will write about my life, and of course my family is a huge part of that.

This page is my personal forum and journal, online. And I love having a place to write. When I think about this blog, I feel satisfied. And I think that’s the reason I write it.

Reflections on “A Spoon Full of Sugar” and “Just 30 Minutes”

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For every job that must be done
There is an element of fun
You find the fun and snap!
The job’s a game.

I’ve been listening to Disney music lately. One thing I bought in the States is a five-disc Disney song Classics collection. I’ve enjoyed the retreat to childhood as I revisit favorite songs and introduce my infant son to “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” and “When You Wish upon a Star” and dozens of others.

Another thing we brought back from the States is a Swiffer and a hundred dry Swiffer rags. This was a gift from my mother-in-law, who believed me when I said that a Swiffer was all I wanted (I couldn’t find them here!). Despite Swiffer’s claim otherwise, you really can’t throw away the broom and the mop — the dry Swiffer doesn’t catch three-dimensional things and the wet Swiffer doesn’t do a great job at kitchen messes — but overall, the Swiffer is a great floor-cleaning tool: it catches the dust and hairs and dirt that just don’t get caught without it. I feel efficient when I’m Swiffering (yes, I believe that is a verb now), and I don’t have to try to catch the mess in a dustpan as I use it.

As I was Swiffering our huge hardwood floor the other morning, I started humming “A Spoon Full of Sugar.” I realized that something as simple as a tool I liked made the task less annoying. Cleaning the floor wasn’t as much of a bother because I felt like I was being efficient. The Swiffer was my “spoonful of sugar” that helped the medicine of cleaning “go down.”

Later, I was telling my husband about a silly website I visited.

“I know I have better things to do,” I said.”But it was fun. Besides, it was just a half-hour, if that.”

He looked at me. “Just a half-hour? How many half-hours do you get every day?”

He wasn’t accusatory at all — I imagine he really doesn’t care what I do. It’s my time. But I realized that this question was coming from a man who had a limited number of “free” half-hours every day. Many of his half-hours are filled with work responsibilities.

How many half-hours do I get every day? And what do I do with all of them?

Yesterday I began a testing process. Here was the test: what can I do in a half an hour? Here’s a list of the chores I can do in half an hour:

  • Shower, dress, and do my hair and makeup (unless I iron my clothes)
  • Clean three bathrooms (at 10 minutes each)
  • Starch and iron 1½ shirts (at 20 minutes each — I’m really slow. My husband usually irons his own shirts, but I really should iron for him, given how many more “free” half-hours I get each day. Maybe I’ll get faster as I do this more often.)
  • Swiffer and sweep, thoroughly, the hardwood floors (lots downstairs, some upstairs)
  • Vacuum the carpeting (three rooms and two large rugs)
  • Dust the bookcases, shelves, and ceiling corners of the house using a Swiffer duster
  • Wash the dishes in the sink (by hand) and wipe down the counters and the microwave
  • Make a quick dinner

Some things take half that time:

  • Feed my son
  • Eat breakfast
  • Eat lunch
  • Fold and put away a load of laundry and start the next load
  • Unload the dishwasher and load it again
  • Wipe the kitchen counters and table and set the table for dinner
  • Tidy the living room (by actually putting things away, not just hiding them)
  • Swiffer, quickly, the hardwood floors

Some things take twice as long:

  • Make a longer dinner (you can’t rush risotto)
  • Get groceries at the supermarket and unload them and put them away

Obviously, some things can’t be done when my son is demanding my attention. (When he wants attention, then I can do some of the fun half-hours: cuddle him close to me, read Winnie-the-Pooh to him, sing a few primary songs, get on the floor and play with his toys.) And how do I vacuum when he’s napping without waking him? But when I put these things in half-hour increments, I don’t feel wrong asking him to entertain himself here and there through the day. Letting him play by himself for 30 minutes while I shower and get ready every morning can’t kill him. Also, he was happy to watch me wash dishes and wipe down kitchen counters because I was talking with him and singing to him as I did it.

As I tested how much of each chore I could get done in a half hour, I felt an urgency to hurry and get it done. It was almost like a game.

The end results were the biggest bonuses. I felt so much better about myself when my hair was done and my makeup was on. I felt a sense of glee when I found that folding and putting away an entire load of laundry took half as long as I thought it would. I felt a sense of satisfaction when I looked at the living room, free of unnecessary clutter, and knew that everything was put away where it was “supposed” to be. I felt very good as I set a well-balanced meal in front of my husband at the end of his long work day.

Those 30 minutes I spent visiting a “who does your son look like?” webpage seemed like “just a half-hour.” It went fast. I think I’ll try to think of chores as “just a half-hour” and maybe that will make them go faster.

Even with the challenge of “how long does it take?”, I don’t think these chores are fun, and it isn’t really a “game” to do them. But I think the satisfaction of having a clean, put-together home is a great reward.

Lesson 7: What Happens after Death?

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It takes a nonmember 12-year-old to put a lesson about life after death in perspective for a teacher: by having a nonmember in my class, I learned how to be a better teacher.

I’ve been concerned about keeping the attention of my easily distracted class, as I mentioned last week. This week, I followed some suggestions from my mother, who happens to be a teacher, as I taught my lesson — word strips for each scripture, scripture summaries for each student, and so forth. In some respects, none of those teaching methods made any difference. What made the difference was my attention to the subject matter and trying to bear testimony to each class member.

When I walked in to class on Sunday, there was a visitor.

For our lesson, I was going to show them the analogy of the glove: after we die, our bodies go in the earth but our spirits live.

Because there was a nonmember in the room, I went back to the beginning with the analogy. Before we were born, we were only spirits (ungloved hand). Then we were born and received a body (glove goes on the hand). When we die, the body goes into the earth (glove on floor) and our spirits return to God (ungloved hand). Then we are resurrected, and our spirits and body are reunited (glove goes back on the hand). As I asked the class to demonstrate with the glove, we had a great review of the basics of these concepts. It helped me realize how important it is to understand and review the previous lessons before going on to the next lesson.

Then we read scriptures to learn about the Spirit world (our bodies are in the earth; our spirit lives with God). Each person in the class had a summary for a scripture, and after reading each scripture, I’d ask them who had that particular summary. (I think I need to give everyone all four summaries, though, because after their summary had been discovered, they’d not pay attention as we read.) I realized that all of these summaries were fairly new concepts to the nonmember. I ended up talking about a lot of background with the class.

  • The spirits of dead go to God. (Alma 40:11)

We talked about how everyone goes back to God. It’s not just the “good” people.

  • After death, the righteous are happy and the wicked are unhappy. (Alma 40:12-13)

We discussed how we are going to feel — what will our personalities be like after death? Here is where it makes a difference if we’ve been wicked. We’ll still be wicked, plus we’ll feel horrible about it!

  • Christ preached to the spirits in the spirit world. (1 Peter 3:18-20)

We talked about Noah, who is mentioned in verse 20, and what happened to those who died in the flood that didn’t have an understanding of the gospel. This was a good example of why there is a place to learn the gospel after this life. The nonmember in the class seemed to like the concept that there is a chance for those who have died without the gospel to learn the gospel.

  • Missionaries on earth also are missionaries after they die. (Doctrine and Covenants 138:57)

We discussed that our work, as believers and members of the gospel, continues after our time on earth. We’ll always bear our testimony to friends, just as one person in our class did by inviting her friend.

Because baptism is so essential to our progression, we must do baptisms by proxy for those who have died. The discussion seemed to follow naturally, and I felt the spirit as I bore my testimony to the class and to the nonmember.

Then we talked about how we will all be resurrected, judged, and assigned a kingdom of glory (body and spirit are reunited). We read 1 Corinthians 15:40-42, the JST version. (We talked about what the JST is by playing telephone and talking about why modern revelation is important). After reading those verses, I showed pictures of the sun, moon, and stars, and I bore testimony that Heavenly Father has glory for each of us. He wants us to return to Him, and He will help us. We didn’t have time to talk about the Celestial Kingdom of glory, why it is so important, and how to get there. That will be the subject for next week — and the rest of the year!

Even though the class was still chatting with each other and there was still a lot of distraction in the room, I was paying attention to the spirit I was feeling. I was trying to make sure that the nonmember understood what we were talking about. He was nodding through the lesson. The others in the class were getting it to, distracted as they were. And I realized that that is what matters. It’s not about getting through everything I want to talk about (we didn’t).

I realize that my class needs review and testimony throughout the class more. I need to worry less about keeping their every attention and more about each particular member of the class. For instance, did ____ feel the spirit today? That will be my goal as we begin the next lessons.

Lesson 7 and part of lesson 8 out of 45 (I’m still three lessons behind.)