Category Archives: Deep Thoughts

Peace and Quiet

1 Reply

“If there are to be constant and bitter recriminations over the state of the house, better, for the man’s sake, the children’s sake and the woman’s sake, a dingy room where peace and quiet are than a spotless abode where no love is.”

Chapter 2, Round about a Pound a Week by Maude Pember Reeves, 1914.

This book is a report on 42 working-class families in 1910 Lambeth (England) who pay rent, eat, and stay clothed on one pound a week and with up to 10 children in the early 1910s. (That’s about $120 US in 2010 equivalent, or about $6200 a year). Book available at Internet Archive.

Read it and you’ll never feed your son a banana or have a glass of milk without remembering it. You are rich as a queen, my friends!

“And She Ministered Unto Them”: Thoughts on Work and Life

2 Replies

bolivia-horseback-ride[1]

Peter’s wife’s mother was sick with a fever. The Savior came in and healed her, “and she arose, and ministered unto them.” (Matthew 8:14-15).

The Sunday school class last week was discussing the miracle of raising her from her sick bed. I was thinking about how she didn’t even get a break. One minute she’s sick in bed, and the next minute she’s making supper. She was probably the Relief Society president, poor lady.

That observation about the women in the New Testament times has been with me as I’ve gone about my week, because it’s not just New Testament times. Women simply don’t get a break from life: there is no running away. I think of when I’ve been sick and Paul hit me with his toys all day long. I think of when I’m in a cranky mood. I can’t just stomp, because I have to remember that Paul has needs. Even when I’m away at book club, I’m still thinking “I wonder if Paul’s in bed yet, otherwise he’ll be cranky tomorrow,” etc. Mothers never get time off. It’s the way it is. “Women should be women and not babies who need petting and correction all the time.”

The Relief Society Visiting teaching thoughts reminded me of the role I have, as a Relief Society sister, in this age:

“Just as the Savior invited Mary and Martha of New Testament times to participate in His work, women of this dispensation have an official commission to participate in the Lord’s work. … The organization of Relief Society in 1842 mobilized the collective power of the women and their specific assignments to build the Lord’s kingdom.” (Sister Beck)

Then, this afternoon, Ryan asked me about the cup of syrup spilled on the bottom of the fridge. I was a bit annoyed, angry, and upset. Yes, far too much. I didn’t want to clean that up. I want nothing to do with cleaning up that sticky mess. Grr! I didn’t knock it over! Yuck! What a pain! I just cleaned the fridge last week!

Less than ten minutes later, Ryan and I had a conversation about when I almost died, almost ten years ago now.

One minute I was eating a slice of meat in a café in Bolivia, not thinking much about life, and the next minute I was turning blue, literally choking from want of air. There was panic initially, but then an overwhelming feeling of sadness came over me. Mostly, I was sad to be leaving the world. I thought of all the wonderful things I’d experienced. Even more, I thought of all I had hoped to happen in my life: falling in love, becoming a mother, and seeing my parents and siblings again, telling them I love them. I wanted one more chance to do something wonderful. I didn’t want my physical body to be dead.

Why was I so incredibly sad? After all, life continues after this one. Why should I be sad when I knew I’d have chances, at some point after this life, to marry, to raise children, and to otherwise continue to progress? Why be sad at the fact that I was done with this life when I’d be soon rejoining the Maker in an even more glorious world? The life after this one is glorious, and this life is rather hard.

But when I got that precious little breath of air once more, about 3½ minutes later, and I realized that I wasn’t going die, that I was okay, that I would make it home again! That I might still fall in love! Be a mother! LIVE! I was so grateful.

So I should not complain so much now. I shouldn’t be so annoyed at the spilled syrup. (All. Over. The. Fridge.) I should be grateful I’m still alive, that I’ve lived to have a husband, and a son, and a home, and a fridge, and maple syrup to clean up.

That, I think, is why Peter’s mother-in-law was so grateful to get right back up and serve the Lord. And that is why we, as women, should likewise rejoice in service. These relationships and opportunities are just what we are here on earth to do.

Today’s Relief Society lesson was also about the glorious principle of work: why should we as home-working women, resent the housework so much?

I need to remember that memorable bite more often. Life is so glorious!

P.S. The photo above is from the horseback ride we went on shortly after my experience. I didn’t take the picture, since my camera had been stolen; one of my friends took this picture.

P.P.S. The Heimlich Maneuver works, if you wanted to know. Please learn it!

What Makes a Prayer a Prayer?

2 Replies

The other day, Paul, who is obsessed with the ABCs and sings the “ABC Song” a dozen times a day, said he’d say the prayer for lunch.

“This is the new prayer, Mommy.” And then, in the melody of the ABCs, he continued, “ABCDEFG, Thank you, God, for everything.”

“That’s not reverent, dear.” I responded. “We don’t joke about prayers. That sounds like the ABC song to me.”

“But that’s my prayer,” he insisted, frowning when I asked him again to say a proper prayer.

Today, when I dropped him off at preschool, I was telling his teacher about the ABC Book he made, and how he just loves the ABCs.

“Oh, we have a new snack prayer they just love,” she said. Then she sang the song I’d heard from Paul, except at the end it said, “Thank you, God, for feeding me.”

“Oh, I get it now!” I responded, “Paul had told me that but I hadn’t believed it was a prayer.”

“Oh, well, it has the ‘Thank you, God’ so it is the snack prayer,” she responded.

And since then, I’ve been pondering prayer. Does really saying “Thank you, God” make something a prayer? To me, a casual “Thank God” sounds like taking his name in vain. People say that all the time, and how often are they sincerely thanking him?

That said, everyone prays differently, and I certainly don’t believe God ignores sincere prayers. The Lutheran service that my son sang at during the fall was a “contemporary” service, with a rock band. Yet, I still felt the spirit as I listened to the pastor talking about how we can all be more loving to each other. Just because something is done with a different degree of reverence does not mean there is no spirit or sincerity.

But to my sensibilities, it is irreverent. In my home, I don’t want my son praying by singing an ABC Song prayer that sounds like it’s using God’s name in vain. I want him to bow his head, close his eyes, and pour out his own words of thanks to his Heavenly Father, speaking to him as the son of God that he is. I don’t want my son sitting at the piano, making up a melody for a song with the only lyrics being “God, God, God.” (He wanted to sing that for Family Home Evening this week.) To me, that is irreverent. I’d rather he sing of his relationship with his Heavenly Father through primary songs.

I just signed him up for his second year of preschool at the Lutheran preschool he’s been going to. Now I’m wondering if he’s just going to be confused. He’s already learned the distinction that, “At home I pray to Heavenly Father, but at preschool I pray to Jesus.”

Is learning reverence for our Heavenly Father, especially during prayer, something I should worry about? I do want him to learn the gospel of Jesus Christ correctly, and maybe the Lutheran influence will only confuse him.

2011 Goal Number 1: Get in Shape

1 Reply

(Yes, I know I haven’t blogged about Thanksgiving in Utah, Christmas, Grandma’s passing and funeral, my birthday, etc. But here’s a post, so that’s something, right?)

A blogging friend says she’ll make resolutions after she’s already accomplished them, and I really like that idea. At any rate, here I am a month into the year and ready to admit to what I’m working on. I haven’t quit yet!

On the first of the year, I could barely do a push up. Now my goal is to keep it up: 30 each of push ups, sit ups, jumping jacks, and one leg hops (30 for each leg) both morning and evening. Yesterday morning, I spent about 30 minutes doing exercises and these exercises and I was sweating! My muscles, from the muscles in my shoulders to my glutes to my calves were burning and it felt so good.

My motivation comes from an outside source. I signed up for an exercise class through the park district. It’s a karate class. See, I figured yoga or kickboxing is just a once a week thing: but karate is something I have to be in shape in order to excel at. And to excel, there are stages to proceed through. My class is the 8 years old through adults class. There is a middle aged man and his 20-something son, and the other five boys are between eight and 12.  It’s embarrassing to be the weakest person there.

So anyway, my muscles are burning these days and it feels great!

I’ll let you know what my other goals are once I’ve accomplished something…

The Management of the Home Is an Art

2 Replies

Those women we call “house”-wives deserve praise. The domestic work they carry out, and which is not paid in hard cash, is essential to the home. Their compensation remains the pile of well ironed, sweet-smelling washing, the shining tiled floor on which the foot glides, the gay kitchen filled with the smell of stews. Their silent action is felt in the least useful detail: over there, a flower in bloom placed in a vase, elsewhere a painting with appropriate colours, hung up in the right place. The management of the home is an art. (page 63, So Long a Letter by Mariama Ba, translated from French by Modupe Bode-Thomas)

Background: Ramatoulaye is a teacher in 1970s or 1980s Senegal, married to a man who, after twenty-five years of marriage and twelve children, has taken a second wife: a young girl who was his oldest daughter’s best friend. In Senegal, under Islam, polygamy is legal. Ramatoulaye has plenty of issues to deal with, but I certainly appreciated her praise for those who care for her home. (Despite the fact that she has domestic help, she still must do much of the work to keep the home running.)

My Pumpkin Cake

Leave a reply

I meant to post this on Halloween so my site would be rather festive. Alas, it has taken me a week to post this, but never fear: here is my pumpkin cake.

I have never decorated a cake before, so this was quite the undertaking. But actually, it was quite simple. I made two cake mixes and baked them in three rounds. When they were cool, I sliced off the top of two of them and stacked the three together, with frosting in between the layers.

Then I carved the sides off, so it was rounded a bit like a pumpkin. I frosted the sides and top. I used some of the extra cake (from the carving) to insert a little stem. After it sat in the fridge overnight, I frosted another layer so it would be smoother. I think it turned out well!
CRW_1756[1]
It is a little lopsided, yes, but what pumpkin is ever completely rounded? Besides, it was my first attempt. It has the equivalent of one and a half cake mixes and five batches of frosting (each batch is 1/3 cup butter and 3 cups powdered sugar).

Is this to be a Halloween tradition?

I should note that I didn’t eat it. I took it to my ward Halloween party; it was a prize for the pumpkin carving contest. No worries, I had tons of leftover cake and frosting at home!

Thoughts on Presidents Gordon B. Hinckley and Thomas S. Monson

1 Reply

Oh! How I loved President Hinckley! When Paul said he wanted to watch the October 2007 General Conference, I was excited to hear my beloved prophet speak once again. October 2007 was his last conference. He died in January 2008. October 2007 conference was the conference I watched as I was in labor. It is a special conference for me.

But is was so interesting that now, even though I still got a feeling of love when I saw him get up at the podium, I no longer got that warm tingly feeling inside when I saw him speak and heard his voice. That warm testimony now goes to President Monson, and it came when the camera panned over him.

It was amazing how seeing President Hinckley speaking felt so different, but it is a comfort to know that I do have a testimony of President Monson. He is the prophet for our day. God lets me know.