Rebecca’s Webpage

I made a profile for the new Mormon.org. Have you?

Go to http://mormonorg.lds.org/profile to set up your profile. Log in with your lds.org site login. (Obviously, this is just for members of the church to log in to. You need your membership number if you don’t already have an lds.org account.)

I think this is a nice way for people to put their social networking to good use. I don’t know how many people (if any) will view my profile out of the thousands of interesting profiles on Mormon.org, but it’s nice to know I’m doing something. I look forward to adding much, much more. It feels so good to bear testimony of what I know to be true.

What is Faith?

After much fasting and prayer (and family financial preparation), Ryan quit his job about four months ago. We both felt it was time. He was working what seemed from my perspective to be 16 hours a day, he had too many bosses, and the traveling every week thing got old about year nine (this was year ten).

As I mentioned, we only took that step after much fasting and prayer. Yet, it then took four months for him to secure his first client as an independent contractor. It was right way back in March, but he did not get a job offer until June. And then, of course, there were two offers the same week and then he got to choose the one he liked best. I found myself wondering many times in the past weeks why Heavenly Father didn’t send one of those two offers back in March or April. Ryan says, “Because Heavenly Father knew that this was about as long as you could handle.” I don’t feel I’ve been particularly faithful: I feel that after that initial decision (which I, too, felt good about) I’ve doubted regularly.

I have learned a bit more about faith. Following those initial strong impressions is not faith. Persisting when I no longer see the end, when I no longer feel strong — that’s faith. The phrase “endure to the end” comes to mind.

Nauvoo

We took a “last hurrah” celebratory road trip to Nauvoo, leaving Monday afternoon once the contracts were signed and his start date set. This was a wonderful thing in so many ways. Some miscellaneous thoughts:

• The down side to free hotels is that sometimes the right hotel is not close to your destination. Driving an hour to and from Nauvoo every morning/evening is not convenient.  (We stayed in Macomb.)
• Binkie withdrawl is painful for the child and the parent. Taking the binkie away just before a road trip is either genius or insanity. I’m still not sure which it was.
• Nauvoo has become huge. My son’s experience visiting Nauvoo will be quite different from my childhood experiences.
• Even a two-year-old can recognize Joseph Smith and learn about his special experience.
• Even a two-year-old loves to walk around the temple.
• Two-year-olds do not want to sit and watch videos in the Visitor’s Center. They also do not have a large enough attention span to visit old house and listen to missionaries. (We made it through two and a half the first day and one on the second.)
• It’s hot this summer.

Eminent Women

While in Nauvoo, we stopped in a fine arts studio and the painter showed us his work in progress: a painting of the eminent men and women that visited Wilford Woodruff in the St. George Temple in 1877 and asked for their work to be done. (See some info about the event here and Mr. Bedard’s painting here.) Anyway, he mentioned that he needed women to be models in his database so when he gets to painting the eminent women who appeared to Wilford Woodruff, he has faces that he can match with the women who were there.

I said, “Sure.” He said that as he took the picture, I should think about what it would have meant. These women, women like Martha Washington, Abigail Adams, Dolley Madison, Jane Austen, and Charlotte Bronte never had the chance to accept the gospel in their lifetimes. They had heard the gospel since their death and come back to ask for their work to be done. As I thought of what it would have meant, I felt the spirit so strongly. How incredible it is that we can do the work for those who have gone before us!

It made me feel closer to those on the other side of the veil. Ryan and I had the chance to do some sealings for the Reid side of the family a few weeks ago, and it is so special to know that those people do (sometimes) accept the work we do for them. They need us!

The Little Things

While we were in Nauvoo, Ryan and I took the chance to go to the temple, first Ryan in the morning, and then me in the afternoon. I admit, we’d been busy in the heat the previous day, and the nice cool air conditioning, the comfortable seats, and the dark room made this a trial for me. Some of my blinks were kind of long. I felt guilty and wondered why I’d taken the time to come to the temple when I couldn’t give my full attention to the service.

At one point, I had the chance to sit right next to the wall, where there are beautiful murals. Right next to me, I could see a fingerprint in a glob of green paint. It was guiding the paint into the midst of the light yellow-green splatters and I could see the texture. It was incredible to see the texture and to realize that if I’d only step back ten feet, those yellow and green splatters would be the beauty of reeds and leaves on the edge of a little pond. Going to the temple, even when not at my most attentive state, was like one of those little splatters. At the end of my life, those little splatters end up a beautiful mural!

I was telling Ryan this very deep thought when he said, “Hmm, that sounds familiar.” Apparently, Elder Bednar already made this connection. Is this why I thought of it? I’d already heard it? At any rate, I get it now.

In my office is a beautiful painting of a wheat field. The painting is a vast collection of individual brushstrokes—none of which in isolation is very interesting or impressive. In fact, if you stand close to the canvas, all you can see is a mass of seemingly unrelated and unattractive streaks of yellow and gold and brown paint. However, as you gradually move away from the canvas, all of the individual brushstrokes combine together and produce a magnificent landscape of a wheat field. Many ordinary, individual brushstrokes work together to create a captivating and beautiful painting.

Each family prayer, each episode of family scripture study, and each family home evening is a brushstroke on the canvas of our souls. No one event may appear to be very impressive or memorable. But just as the yellow and gold and brown strokes of paint complement each other and produce an impressive masterpiece, so our consistency in doing seemingly small things can lead to significant spiritual results. “Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great” (D&C 64:33). Consistency is a key principle as we lay the foundation of a great work in our individual lives and as we become more diligent and concerned in our own homes. (from an October 2009 Conference Address)

What If…. I Have to Grow Up?

We’ve been working on “What ifs?” lately, such as wills and life insurance and planning for the future. One major “what if” is “what if I need to get a job?” I’ve realized I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. Absolutely nothing interests me. I especially can’t stand the thought of going back to proofreading other people’s writing for 40 hours a week. I hope I can just continue being a stay-at-home mom for the foreseeable future. I don’t want to have to grow up anytime soon.

I’ve written a dozen of posts in my head and I’ve started a few posts for this site and yet somehow they never get posted! Any internet time I’ve found has gone to my public blog, where for many reasons, I am not going to post my innermost personal thoughts. Here are some concepts that I’ve been pondering for a long time, and much like all the other things I’ve wanted to share lately (and never have), it involves my testimony.

Lately, I’ve felt like rejoicing in being a woman. As a woman, I know my role and it is a wonderful one. In so many places in the world, I am told that I am the same as a man, that accepting (and purporting) a gender-specific role to be a nurturer is a demeaning thing for women, and that women should “aim higher” and not be limited or taught to be any different than men. I wholeheartedly disagree, especially that ignoring female-specific gender roles is “aiming higher.” Women, and girls, should nurture gender-specific roles.

As a woman, I have a specific “meaning, purpose, and direction.” I delight in that knowledge. My favorite line from the Relief Society Declaration is that I “find nobility in motherhood and joy in womanhood.” That I do, and I delight in the opportunity to declare to other girls and woman around the world that such roles are divine.

Some would say that I am an anti-feminist by those statements. On the contrary, I consider myself a feminist in every sense of the word. See these definitions (from Merriam-Webster.com):

Feminist: (1) the theory of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes; (2) organized activity on behalf of women’s rights and interests

Women should be politically, economically, and socially equal to men. Whether a woman runs for office, votes for office, buys a house, opens a bank account, or enters a workplace or community environment, she should not be discriminated against and limited. However, women should not be the same as men.

I wish to shout from the rooftops that being a womanly woman is the greatest thing in the world, that being different from men is a wonderful thing. I am a part of the world’s largest woman’s organization, and it certainly supports women’s interests: Relief Society. We women should nurture our own abilities to nurture, for it makes the world so much stronger. Women that know their divine roles are women that truly do “find joy in womanhood.”

In reading over the talks from the last conference, I have found that so many of them are about mothers, motherhood, women’s roles, being a parent, and teaching the rising generation. I loved Sister Beck’s talk from the last general conference, and I find myself reviewing it often.

A good woman must constantly resist alluring and deceptive messages from many sources telling her that she is entitled to more time away from her responsibilities and that she deserves a life of greater ease and independence. But with personal revelation, she can prioritize correctly and navigate this life confidently.

Women are not, therefore, entitled to “me” time, although of course we all need to keep our sanity. We live in an “entitlement” culture; it’s not the Lord’s way. His way is to serve, enduring to the end. And then Sister Beck quotes Sister Eliza R. Snow in a quote that I should frame and put over my bathroom mirror:

Women should be women and not babies that need petting and correction all the time. I know we like to be appreciated but if we do not get all the appreciation which we think is our due, what matters?

The sister I visit for visiting teaching pointed out that women who are abused and/or neglected by her husbands should not feel that they are in the wrong. And as I mention above, women do need to keep sanity and being stranded in a house with, say, a few screaming children for five days a week definitely would drive the best of us insane. But in my case, where I have a husband who dotes on me and takes very good care of me, helps out around the house, and otherwise is the most wonderful man alive, I certainly need this reminder. I get plenty of “me” time.

I admit that I sometimes act like a baby. I don’t want to cook dinner yet again. I don’t want to change yet another poopy diaper. (Yes, after two months of being partially toilet trained Paul is back to no toilet and all diapers.) I don’t want to be the one that is responsible. I want to be coddled and I want someone else to do the dirty work so I can get back to my book (oops, did I say that outloud?!).

But the fact is, I delight in being a mother. I sincerely do “find nobility in motherhood.” I delight in cuddling my son and reading him stories and taking him on walks. I can’t get one (the fun stuff) without the other (the responsibility). Our husbands choose jobs they like, but those jobs aren’t always fun. It is work. And we sure do like payday.

Anyway, this weekend, as I ponder all the responsibilities I have and the ways in which I want to better magnify this eternal job of mine (that is, being a mother), I want to rededicate myself to doing the small, sometimes unpleasant stuff with the nobility of motherhood in mind. Changing those diapers and cleaning the toilets is a part of that noble task.

“Women should be women and not babies that need petting and correction all the time…”

The great thing, but also the not so great thing, about not posting on this site very frequently is that few are going to read this or comment. I like knowing that I can post my testimony in a place where I know it isn’t going away, for my strong feelings of delight at being a woman aren’t about to change. I’d love to hear from you if you are still reading this blog, although please note that I don’t intend to debate women’s roles or feminism in general. I am sharing my testimony of my role and my love of the Lord Jesus Christ.

What do you most love about womanhood and motherhood? What talks about motherhood from the last general conference stood out to you?

We are beloved spirit daughters of God,
and our lives have meaning, purpose, and direction.

As a worldwide sisterhood, we are united in our devotion
to Jesus Christ, our Savior and Exemplar.

We are women of faith, virtue, vision, and charity who:

• Increase our testimonies of Jesus Christ through prayer and scripture study.
• Seek spiritual strength by following the promptings of the Holy Ghost.
• Dedicate ourselves to strengthening marriages, families, and homes.
• Find nobility in motherhood and joy in womanhood.
• Delight in service and good works.
• Love life and learning.
• Stand for truth and righteousness.
• Sustain the priesthood as the authority of God on earth.
• Rejoice in the blessings of the temple,understand our divine destiny,and strive for exaltation.

Since we moved in last winter when there was more than a foot of snow on the ground, we weren’t quite sure what to expect in terms of the yard. I waited all spring, hoping something would come up, and not sure I wanted to mess with it.

Well, nothing came up. The rose bushes in the front on the right were dead, and the other three bushes on the left are random and overgrown. Last year, I dug out the dead roses and spent my meager budget of $70 on four new bushes for the right hand side. I got small ones. They still looked small by fall, and they looked small all winter and they still do (you probably can’t even see them unless you know they are there). I spent another $20 on bulbs in the fall. This year, I had so much fun watching the flowers appear! I hope to plant lots more this fall so I can enjoy them in the backyard too. Paul loves saying “Look, Mommy! The flowers come up!!” every time he sees them.

taken April 22, 2010

taken April 22, 2010

You may notice the lovely green lawn. There is nary a dandelion on the front lawn because I spent hours pulling Every. Single. One. that I found. Yes. I went in a very thorough linear pattern and I was very careful to look for dandelions without the flowers yet.

Why did I feel compelled to eliminate the yellow flower from my yard in such earnest? Let me tell you the saga of the dandelions.

Last week, Ryan fertilized with non-dandelion stuff that supposedly kills them all. Two days later, it rained. The next morning, the lawn was covered with dandelions! What?! So I went out there with Weed-B-Gone and sprayed every dandelion I saw, careful to get all I could see. The next morning, there were twice as many! Grrr. I love my spring flowers but those awful dandelions were making me cross. So out they came.

Of course, the day after I took this picture, I saw at least six more dandelions on the part I’ve already pulled out! Grrr. I didn’t pull out of the parkway — I just sprayed those but there are a ton. So maybe I must do those tow. Sigh.

It’s a daily/weekly/monthly battle, but I realize that it’s okay. Knowing the effort I put in to getting my lawn so nice and green is actually quite rewarding. It’s part of makes the spring flowers that much more satisfying! I love my house, I love my yard, and it just makes me so happy to look at these dandelion-free pictures and feel all warm and fuzzy in side!

I compare our yard to the house two doors down, which is still vacant (as it was last year). YIKES. My yard is so much nicer.

Don’t get me started on the backyard. I am not about to crawl on my hands and knees for a full quarter of an acre. Here’s to hoping I have energy to at least spray them tomorrow! It’s pretty bad and I do not want them going to seed…

Tags: yardwork

Last July, when Paul was about 21 months old, I began reading him the Book of Mormon as we ate our breakfast. At first, of course, he barely noticed. He’d keep babbling to himself as he ate his oatmeal. It didn’t (and doesn’t) take long to read five verses. By October, we’d finished First Nephi and begun Second Nephi.

By the New Year, I began to notice something. Paul, now 26 months, enjoyed Book of Mormon time. He’d point to the book on the shelf as he ate and remind me. He’d request Book of Mormon time during lunch too. He’d repeat words (“Wo! Wo!”). He’d look for the pictures of Jesus in it.

I’ve learned a lot from the Book of Mormon by reading so slowly. First, most verses have some precious truth that even a two-year-old can understand. It sometimes felt challenges reading the Isaiah chapters to him. After all, I didn’t want him to remember the word “whoredoms” at age two and a half. Yet, even in the midst of God’s scoldings, there are verses of comfort, reminders to hear with your ears, and calls to come to God. All these are concepts that we need. When a verse says “Open your ears and hear,” my two-year-old can understand. We’re almost finished with Second Nephi now. I’ll let you know when we begin Mosiah (I anticipate it will be another four months).

In January, I began a personal study of the New Testament. When I thought of the Stake President’s request that we read the Book of Mormon by the next stake conference, I discounted myself. Surely that is guidance for those who haven’t read it a dozen times already! I wanted to keep reading the Bible. I’m unfamiliar with it in comparison to the Book of Mormon.

But by March, I was feeling seriously guilty. One Tuesday night, I picked it up and began at the beginning once again. Knowing I had a “deadline” of April 25, I purposely carved out time every night that first week to read the requisite 20 pages (or so). To my surprise, I found myself compelled by what I was reading, so much so that some days I read 50 pages or more. I wanted to carry it around with me during the morning, which I often do with compelling novels, and read it in snatches when I get a break during the day. I wanted to stay up late reading a little bit more before I went to sleep. I wanted to read it.

I finished it in about three weeks, and it was an interesting way to read it. I wasn’t stopping and reading footnotes. I wasn’t taking notes and pondering the teachings I was reading. I was just reading for the overall spirit of the book. What I got was so much more. I gained a stronger love for the Book of Mormon as a book worth reading and rereading. I was reminded each day of the testimony I have of its truthfulness. And ultimately, I was reminded of the hope there is for me, for as I call upon the Savior’s atonement and seek forgiveness for my imperfections, I can someday return to Heavenly Father, imperfect as I am. The people of the Book of Mormon were blinded by pride, by the desire for power, by hate for those around them. It is a tragedy, and yet the message for me is one of hope.

This read, I most loved the book of Mosiah. I remember someone telling me before that King Benjamin’s speech is not for one who is depressed: he only reminds us of our weaknesses and discourages us further. But on the contrary, I loved everything about the book of Mosiah, especially King Benjamin’s speeches. Rather than being depressed, I saw the hope for me, imperfect as I am. I was inspired by Abinadi’s teaching, Alma’s conversion, and the tales of the two groups of people who were enslaved and reacted in two different ways. Alma the Younger’s miraculous conversion reiterates the fact that there is hope for all: we can all be forgiven.

The other thing I learned from reading the Book of Mormon is the importance of the actual act of doing so. Because I was so enthralled by its pages, Paul saw me reading it, and whenever I sat on the couch to read a few pages as he played with his cars, for example, he’d jump up and say “Mommy! Paul’s Book of Mormon too!” And he’d race to get his own blue copy, the one we read every morning at breakfast. He’d pull himself up on the couch as well and he’d “read” his along with me. (This would often last about 30 seconds, but occasionally he would flip through all the pictures and babble to himself for a good 5 minutes.)

The bottom line is that the Book of Mormon is something to be appreciated on both a Macro and a Micro level. Whether you read five verses a day or 60 pages strengthens you. I’m hoping my next read (which will happen now, concurrently with my New Testament study) will be more in the middle of the two extremes as I ponder footnotes, cross reference, and actually study the words saved for our day.

Beyond the mere fact that reading the Book of Mormon is a blessing, I also gained a stronger testimony of the Stake President’s counsel. Surely, there is a reason to obey.  I am grateful I did.

Tags: testimony

I’ve been busy getting in the spring cleaning mood this morning. All week, Paul and I have been walking to the park, walking to the Big Big Bridge to play “Poohsticks”, and outside watering flowers and getting in a Spring-y mood. I had Yardwork with a capital Y on my list for this morning but ….. it snowed last night. Yes, I shouldn’t have expected it to say in the 70s!

So instead, Paul and I have been cleaning out this morning while Daddy runs some errands. It’s feeling pretty good. See some pictures of Paul from this morning.

I have been painting the banister, trim, and risers for our front hall. I think it turned out pretty nice.

Looking at it now, it doesn’t look like much. Why did it take me two months? We started the week after Christmas, sanding the current coat off. Then when Ryan went back to work, I spent two or three weeks painting coat after coat of pre-stain and stain and dark-colored poly. Then I took a week or two off. Then I cleaned and taped again and painted the risers, the trim, and all the spindles.

I worked when Paul was sleeping and he doesn’t nap anymore, so just at night. I discovered I could only paint for two hours at a time before I started feeling I was going crazy. Lots of bending over for this job.

At any rate, I can’t find a before picture to show you how much nicer our home looks. When we moved in, our wood floors were all light, pine colored wood. We wanted them dark mahogany so before we even moved in, we had the floors done. The banister remained the light colored pine, and it took us a year to get around to doing it! Here’s the newly finished floors, not finished banister (i.e., how it’s been for a year).

Although it does look like an amateur did this, I do feel very good about how I did it all myself (mostly)! I really do want to do all the rest of the trim in the house because it gives ti a newly finished look and feel. I’m just not sure when I’ll have the energy to bend over so much again!

(1) When people ask me “How are you doing?” they are not hoping to hear potty training updates.

(2) I’ve become obsessive-compulsive about making sure the sippy cup lid matches the sippy cup.

(3) Cleaning toilets doesn’t bother me much anymore, but I still don’t like scrubbing the shower.

(4) Relief Society, while it is not my beloved primary, isn’t all that bad. In fact, I think I like being there each Sunday!

It’s hard to start something up again after such a long break. I have nine months of family pictures that need to be stored in this online journal. They are just sitting there on my hard drive, waiting to be put in chronological order. Plus, things have been happening! My baby is almost two and a half. He’s talking in complete sentences, most of the time. He says the most adorable things. He looks adorable, and he’s in this perfect in-between stage that makes staying home with him a delight.

True, Paul is a joy. The majority of the time, he is pleasant and laughing. Sometimes, he screams and throws a tantrum (especially on the increasingly frequent no nap days). It doesn’t bother me now, at this stage. I can understand what he says, and I know what he wants: I just can’t always give him what he wants.  This is so much better than the 18-month-old stage, when he screamed and I had no idea why.

So, why am I visiting this neglected blog once again tonight? Well, Ryan is stuck in Manhattan for the second unplanned night, thanks to NYC’s huge snow storm (20.9 inches in Central Park in the last two days). Yesterday, his afternoon flight was canceled. He changed his flight to this afternoon. This morning, that was canceled. He changed his flight to tomorrow morning. Do you see a pattern here?

(To keep things in perspective, this is only the second time in his nine and a half years of 85% traveling that he has been literally unable to get a flight home from where he is. The other time was 9/11. He was in the air and the plane was landed in Ohio. He rented a car and drove back to Chicago.)

But this weekend’s snowstorm is only the icing on the “we’re sick of this” cake. Ryan had told his boss earlier in the week that he is actively looking for a job. No, he didn’t quit, but he was explaining that there was a reason he did not want to stay in NYC on Friday, as they wanted him to. At any rate, the fact that he’s stuck there, and has to return again on Monday, really and truly sucks. Sorry for the strong language. It does.

We’ve been pondering and searching for another job since we returned to the USA in August 2008. Ryan had some promising interviews that fall, but nothing panned out. (Maybe you recall, but that was the fall that the economy suddenly tanked.) In 2009, Ryan kept looking. Then, this month and last, he’s been working on it in all his free time. It definitely time. For example, Saturday, he was up before dawn, searching and applying for jobs until after 8 p.m. I only wish there was something I could do to help. There have been some leads, so we’re hopeful something will pan out soon. But we’d appreciate any extra prayers that you can send our way.

I have cleaned the bathrooms. I’ve vacuumed and swept the floors. Maybe getting the house ready will speed my husband home!

I called this post “silence” because that is how I feel about my daily life sometimes, and that is why this blog has been silent for so many months. Most days, I go see my friends or they come here for play dates. And this morning my friend was kind enough to step up as a last minute babysitter so I could still go spend my two hours volunteering at the library. How I love that time of talking to adults! Every morning and every evening, I also talk to Ryan. I do get much-needed socialization in person. In fact, it’s just the right amount of out of the house time: I’m naturally an introvert so it becomes exhausting to me. I think two book clubs and a few plays dates a week is enough for me.

But I also spend some time most days responding and discussing books with other readers online via my book blog. That life is a complete non-baby life, and it really helps save my sanity: I know I can finish the day with some thought that doesn’t revolve around best potty training methods. (I guess that’s why I haven’t been blogging on this site: blogging four or five times a week at my books site is time-consuming enough, and this site would only be about more potty training pleas for help).

But the bottom line is, at the end of the day, our home is silent. The floorboards creak, the furnace turns on, my son mumbles in his sleep. But the main sound is silence.

This is why I’m praying that my husband can come home, and stay home. I long for his snores once the silence of night sets in. The silence is getting a bit loud.

Given Paul’s interest in Baby Doll’s toilet training, I’m considering beginning his own toilet training come the first of February. But I’d love to know your ideas for helping it go well. No promises I’ll try your method, but please share away!

Of course, that would assume there are people still reading my bog after months of silence. If not, I understand. My life is only so interesting, as this post demonstrates.