Lessons 9 and 10: Prayer and Fasting

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Last week, with only five minutes left in our class about prayer, I emphasized in my testimony that we should always pray –even if we don’t feel worthy. I asked the class if they knew the story of Alma the Younger. They knew it and told me about his repentance. I testified to them that even though he had sinned a lot, he still was able to pray to Heavenly Father; only after he prayed was he delivered. Therefore, we should always pray, even (and especially) when we’ve sinned and don’t feel like it.

“What if we do feel like praying?” someone asked. (I think she was trying to be difficult.)

“Of course, you should be praying then too,” I emphasized.

“So, in other words, we should always be praying,” someone else added.

That led right into the Alma 34:20-27.

I love prayer. I am so grateful for that connection with heaven. As a mother, I know I need the power of prayer to be a stronger part of my life than it has been. We really should be praying always!

And I think the concept of praying always leads very well into the concept of fasting for added strength, which is this week’s lesson.

I’m struggling with this lesson. It’s not that I don’t know what to say. I know what I’m going to do: there are great scriptures in the manual and a great quote from conference.

It’s just been such a long time since I’ve actually fasted.

I was pregnant for nine months and now I’ve been breastfeeding for six, so that means I have not physically fulfilled a complete fast for 15 months. On Fast Sundays, I still try to focus on spiritual matters and I eat less than I would normally — one bowl of cheerios instead of the sugary honey peanut corn flakes. But overall, I still feel like I’ve gone a long time without practicing this law. (Certain people have suggested to me that I could physically fast and still breastfeed fine, but I haven’t tried because I’m nervous about keeping a milk supply.)

What do you say? How I can be better at practicing the law of the fast, even when I technically cannot physically practice it? (I guess I also want to know if you think I’m being selfish by not fasting: did you fast while you were pregnant or breastfeeding?)

My First Easter by Paul

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I didn’t wake up for my breakfast until 5 a.m. I didn’t know what time it was, of course, but Mommy seemed so happy when she came up. She kept saying, “I just slept for six hours straight!” with amazement. I ate eagerly and then decided to go back to sleep.

Before I knew it, Mommy was waking me up and putting my white shirt on me. Then Mommy immediately put me in my car seat. There wasn’t time to spit up on anyone at all! Daddy carried me out to the car and put me in the back. I sat in the car seat for more than an hour as Daddy drove us around. Mommy came and sat by me for a while and so did this other guy we picked up. I was sleepy so I didn’t feel like talking much. I just stared at the side of the car seat.

Finally, we got to church. I wasn’t sleepy anymore. Mommy took me out of my car seat and held me on her lap. There were so many people to look at. People kept coming by and telling me I am cute. Do such obvious things even need to be said? I just giggled and ate my tie.

I sat on Mommy’s lap as she sang songs. I was pretty happy to be awake. The whole meeting was about Jesus. As Daddy passed the sacrament, Mommy told me about how Jesus was resurrected. I was happy.

I went with Daddy to the Gospel Essentials Sunday school class and took a little nap. Most of the lesson was in Chinese anyway, so I didn’t feel too bad sleeping through it. I’m having a hard enough time with English these days!

When I woke up, I was in Relief Society with Mommy. A lady at the front of the room was talking, and I wanted to show everyone how I can talk too, so I started speaking up! Did you know I can make really loud noises with this voice of mine? Really loud noises! One lady sitting in front of me kept telling me I was cute, but Mommy was trying to shush me. She walked around the back of the room, but I was so excited about my noises that I wanted to see how loud I could get. Besides, I was tired of being held. I wanted to kick.

Finally, Mommy stopped shushing me. And then everyone else was moving around and talking, so no one could hear my noises. How disappointing!

Before I knew it, Mommy was putting me back in my car seat. At least Mommy sat by me again. So did one of the other guys we had picked up, Shawn. He kept making faces at me, trying to get me to smile, but I didn’t feel like humoring him. I decided to make loud noises again. I was getting tired, though, so I wasn’t very energetic.

I think I feel asleep because the next thing I remember, I was in my crib at home. I didn’t want to be all by myself, so I called for Mommy and Daddy.

Daddy played with me for a little while and tickled me. I love my Daddy! He rubbed something dark brown on my bottom lip, and Mommy was quite concerned. She kept saying, “Don’t give him chocolate!”

Grandma Peggy called to wish me a happy Easter. I was so amazed by the voice coming out of the telephone that I didn’t say anything to her.

Mommy and Daddy found me some toys and put me in my playpen. I ate my cloth book and hit myself in the head with my rattle while Mommy ironed a tablecloth and Daddy made pear sorbet.

After a little while, Daddy was putting me back in to my car seat. “Where to now?” I thought. We headed all the way back to Shawn’s house and then back to the church. I did not want to be in my car seat any longer, and I tried to tell Daddy, who kept driving. But Shawn and Mommy just told me I was cute. Shawn told me that it was his first Easter too.

After another long while, we were back at church. Mommy read to me from the Book of Mormon Stories book. I sat with Mommy and Daddy as we listened to pretty music. After listening to some talks in Chinese, we went and watched Shawn baptize William. Mommy told me that I’ll be baptized in 7 years, 6 months, and 15 days. I’m so excited!

After we watched the baptism, we drove home again. Shawn came with us, and so did a sister in the ward and her kids. I lay on my back in my playpen looking up, and there were so many smiling faces—two girl faces and a little boy face and Shawn’s face. I didn’t know who to smile at first! The two girls were very excited to smile at me and giggle and tickle me. I was happy to humor them. The oldest girl picked me up and carried me around the room.

The youngest kid, the boy, wasn’t quite sure how to hold me, but he sat down and he did just fine. Then he and Shawn played football in the living room with a stuffed bunny. I can’t wait until I’m a little older and I can run around like that!

I was so excited with all the people around that I didn’t realize how tired I was getting. When they all put me down in my playpen and sat at the table and started eating, I was very annoyed.

“I’m still here!” I tried to say. But, of course, all they heard was my noises. “Isn’t he cute?” they said to each other.

Finally, Mommy remembered me. She picked me up and took me upstairs. She changed my clothes and sang me a song and cuddled me. I was too tired to go to sleep calmly, but she helped me go to sleep anyway.

It was a good first Easter.

The Chef’s Craft in Every Kitchen?

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I have mixed feelings about Michael Ruhlman’s The Elements of Cooking: Translating the Chef’s Craft for Every Kitchen.

The Elements of Cooking is one-part opinionated essays about cooking (pages 1-50) and one-part alphabetic encyclopedia of opinionated “essential” elements to cooking. There are things I liked about both parts and other things that bordered on ridiculous. (For example, Sharpie is included in the list of essential elements to cooking. Its definition: “This brand of permanent marker is excellent for dating and labeling food; keep one in your tool drawer along with painter’s tape.” p. 215)

I didn’t realize why I was annoyed by this book until I started reading Ruhlman’s previous best-seller, The Making of a Chef. I haven’t finished that book yet. It is the story of how one is trained at the Culinary Institute of America to become a chef. Only as I read this second book do I realize what the problem is with the first book: I don’t want to be a chef. Therefore, it’s not necessary to translate the chef’s craft for my kitchen.

According to The Elements of Cooking, a chef is a leader, as in the head of a restaurant kitchen, and is firstly a good cook. A cook is what I do aspire to be. I don’t want to be a chef: I don’t want a restaurant kitchen. I want good home cooking for my home kitchen.

Because I don’t want to be a chef, some items on the alphabetic list of essential elements seem a bit ridiculous. I don’t need to learn about aspic (gelled stock), offal (innards of animals), and foie gras (duck liver). I won’t be cooking them in my kitchen. I don’t need to learn the French terms for my macaroni’s cheese sauce. I don’t need to know decorative knife cuts for cutting vegetables. I don’t need to know kitchen terms (for example, commis is a prep cook in a professional kitchen).

However, on the other hand, as a cook, some of the terms, even the French terms, may come in handy if I happen upon a recipe that uses them.

Also, as a cook I found the opinionated essays about cooking incredibly interesting. Those essays are the reason I would recommend this book to the average cook. They make me think about cooking in a different way. I plan on rereading them regularly. Ruhlman included essays on stock, sauces, salt, the egg, heat, and tools of the kitchen. I think I’ll revisit them in subsequent posts — they are very informative and, I think, discussion worthy.

One book he recommended reading is On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen, by Harold McGee. This is a scientific explanation of food, from eggs to meat and fish to plants and on. The author has degrees in science and literature so provides scientific descriptions the layman can understand. When I read it, I’ll let you know if that is true.

Ruhlman’s last essay is about finesse. This is where I feel I’ve departed from his main point of his book: I’m not a chef and so I’m not hoping for “refinement” in my cooking. As a cook, I hope to provide fundamental home cooking for my family. However, I suspect Ruhlman is correct to some extent, even for my home kitchen: “The concept [of finesse] rest[s] on a conviction that paying attention to a few small details in any given preparation has an enormous impact on the finished dish and is the final gratification for the cook in his or her pursuit of excellence” (p. 46).

While I’m not looking for approval of my food as a restaurant chef or even as an amateur chef in any sense of the term “chef” and I’m not vainly pursuing excellence (perfectionist though I am), I think a reward to my efforts at cooking will be a gratifying and edible supper every night with my family, recognizing that there is always room for improvement.

I recommend Ruhlman’s book to the family cook only half-heartedly. It’s great to get you thinking about food, but only with a few tablespoons of salt.

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?

The Ants Came Marching

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If you despise bugs, you may not want to read this post.

On the other hand, if you want motivation for always wiping down the counters, cleaning the dishes, and otherwise cleaning the kitchen on a regular basis, this may be the post for you.

I think I keep a pretty tidy kitchen. I wipe down the counters thoroughly at least once a day. I regularly unload the dishwasher and load it again to keep the sink empty. I try to keep it clean.

The other morning, we put our dirty breakfast dishes in the sink — the dishwasher had clean dishes in it. I went back two hours later (when Paul was happier) to empty the dishwasher, load it, and make brownies.

Ants were crawling into the sink, around the sink, on the counters, and under the kitchen counter.

I didn’t scream. But I do think my heart literally skipped a few beats. I thought I’d fall over. “Oh, my! Oh, my!” was all I could say. No one except Paul was there to hear me.

I killed the ants with ant poison.

In case you wanted to know, it took almost 5 hours (over the course of that morning, that afternoon, and the next morning) to wash all the silverware and utensils in the drawers, wash all the pots in the one cabinet, and wipe down the entire pantry (even though the ants hadn’t made it that far).

I’m beginning to suspect that there is a nest under our house — last month they came in near the front door and the month before that they came in through the bathroom.

The good side of this horrendous problem is that now I am very motivated to wipe the kitchen table and counters immediately upon finishing eating and immediately after I get them dirty. I haven’t left dishes in the sink. I now have a clean pantry.

So there are some bonuses. But I’d rather the ants hadn’t invaded.

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.

Lesson 8: The Three Kingdoms of Glory

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Just a note for anyone teaching twelve-year-olds about the three kingdoms of glory using the chart from the lesson manual: outer darkness is on the chart. Make sure you prepare yourself to steer the conversation away from outer darkness for the entire class.

For some reason, the twelve-year-olds in my class were quite interested in outer darkness: who will be sent to outer darkness, what are their chances of getting sent to outer darkness, and what happens in outer darkness.

I tried to explain to them that we don’t know a lot about outer darkness for a reason: we’re supposed to aim for the Celestial Kingdom, not outer darkness.

As for the Celestial Kingdom, we read the scripture that explains how a temple sealing is required for the highest glory of the Celestial Kingdom. My class was quite disgusted by that:

“I have to get married? I’m never getting married!” said one girl.

Another turned to me. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Maybe.”

“Did you always want to get married?” she asked.

I can honestly say I have always wanted to get married. Was I unusual? I didn’t realize twelve-year-olds (from active, non-divorced families) are so turned off by marriage.

At any rate, I think I did a pretty good job of steering them away from outer darkness and back to the Celestial Kingdom (isn’t that the point?), and we had a good discussion of what we need to do to make it to the Celestial Kingdom:

  • We must receive the testimony of Jesus (D&C 76:51)
  • We must be baptized by one with priesthood authority (D&C 76:51)
  • We must keep the commandments (D&C 76:52)
  • We must receive the gift of the Holy Ghost (D&C 76:52-53)
  • We must overcome the world by faith (D&C 76:53)
  • We must be made perfect through the Atonement of Jesus Christ (D&C 76:69)

I just wasn’t prepared to visit outer darkness yesterday.

Lesson 8 of 45

Reading as Home, Family, and/or Personal Enrichment

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I’ve been asked to give a presentation at Relief Society’s Home, Family, and Personal Enrichment night next week about how I love reading and literature. I plan on focusing on how reading enriches our families and our personal lives. I wanted to focus on how it enriches our home as well, but I don’t have any ideas. I’d love to hear your ideas about any part of this.

How does reading enrich your home, family, and/or personal life?

Socks and Pacifiers

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Paul’s pacifiers disappear.

I left Paul in his crib, happily playing, and went downstairs. By the time I came back 20 minutes later, the pacifier was gone. I could not find it anywhere—not in the crib sheets, not under the crib, and not under the dresser, bookcase, or chair. Where do these things disappear to? Is there some world full of lost pacifiers?

I imagine the pacifiers are joined with all the socks we lose as we do laundry.

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.