Raising the "right" hand

If you are not a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, you may not understand this post. However, I think it applies to human nature in general, so maybe there's a little something for everyone.

Two years ago I decided that I would no longer raise my hand to "sustain" people in the callings they were given, or to thank them for the service they rendered, or to welcome them into our ward. This doesn't mean that I don't support them, appreciate them or welcome them into our ward -- I'm just not going to raise my hand like that. I also usually don't raise my hand to signify I "sustain" church leaders. This decision was the result of a process, and that process began more than two years ago.

When I held a calling in ward leadership, over time it was made clear to me that much of what goes on there (in leadership) is just the best that people have to offer; but it was not always the only way things could have been done and that it is fraught with problems that plague us all as human beings. Church leaders are not infallible.

There is also a fair amount of unconscious manipulation that attends those efforts. It is now my belief that anyone that has managed people and tried to get anything done uses manipulation on some level. It's a common part of our existence, but not everyone has the same motives. I'm not saying manipulation is ever the best way, but sometimes given the circumstances and the differences in our lives and personalities, it is the best that we can do. We are all being influenced, consciously or unconsciously, by someone or something every minute of our lives. We all do it, but motives are widely varied. I feel the current system of "sustaining" encourages in me an unhealthy complacency and to participate in it at this point would be just to pacify others. Sometimes I need to do things because others need it, but not in this case or at least not at this time.

It was also made clear to me that callings were given mostly based on who was available and the personal beliefs of the bishopric, often unconsciously held, of what the purpose of work in the Church was supposed to be. I think most members would say that, of course, the work of the church is to further the kingdom of God. However, many times we (myself included of course) think this work is something that we want to see happen - my will, not God's will. One person might unconsciously believe that the work of the church is to create a smoothly running organization that never steps out of their concept of propriety. Another might unconsciously think it is an organization that is supposed to make them look good as a person or a leader. I realized that I thought some of those things, but more compelling was my belief that the Church was supposed to further my views on social equality and justice as well as solve all the problems that plague human relationships. What a blow to my ego! All these years I had thought I was serving out of sincere devotion to God's will, but in reality I was serving to further my own causes. Not that my "causes" were wrong, but the intent when it came to serving in the church was flawed. I realized that when Christ was on the earth there were no major rules about how a meeting was held, or white shirts must be worn or all the other trappings we create to further our goals. Christ went about teaching faith in God, obedience to God, repentance and baptism. He helped individuals that came into his path, but he did not create a socially just nation, nor eliminate greed, corruption, abuse and the like.  What were his "rules?" Keep the commandments, love God, love others, pray and do so to the Father in Jesus' name. Share the good news that He had overcome all, and that we can return to our loving Father as whole beings. So, I chose not to raise my hand to sustain callings anymore because I could never be sure of what that person was sustaining in their own heart.

In the past, as the result of a mixture of sincere devotion to the Lord, ambition to be the "best" at this devotion (ambition to be the "best" at something, anything), and ignorance (plus I have a nature that just wants to help others), I have abdicated my personal freedom to choose. I just gave it away.  I have thought or said things like, "Whatever the Lord wants," or I thought that everything that I was asked to do in the church was perfect revelation of the Lord's will. I thought that if I did everything I was asked to do, then others would make sure I was not hurt. I would be changed into more than I was and that I would somehow be able to do all things I thought I should be doing-- did you notice the "I" in all that? I eventually came to a very serious emotional and spiritual point of breaking. I found myself blaming others for it, but in God's kindness and true love, He showed me that I had chosen it. I wanted to blame all my feelings and problems on the church members or the bishop, but it was not so. Others may have been unwise, or thoughtless, or selfish in some way, but I had chosen my fate. I am so grateful that God is so merciful! Choosing something doesn't mean I am doomed to destruction however; as I turned to God for more answers and help, he has healed me. It has not been easy, or painless. What continues to endure however is a strong desire to never again choose ignorance and to never again blame anyone for my choices. So, I don't raise my hand. It is my way of keeping things even and myself on the same level as someone in a position of leadership, and it is my way of keeping the idea of choice in a healthy and prominent place in my consciousness. I view it as a protection for others, and for myself. I choose to call the current bishop by his first name for this very reason, and I use that for everyone. I will call the stake presidency members, "brother" as well as an apostle, since we do not have a first-name relationship. I want to protect them from having to endure the tantrums of the entitled being that dwells within me when I don't get what I want. Heaven knows they already have enough to deal with. I must also protect myself from my own tendencies and weaknesses.

So, whenever the "sustaining" goes on I do my best to smile my kindest and brightest and sincerest smile and I leave my hand down, hoping that somehow the Spirit will be able to convey to others my sincere appreciation and concern for them. I tell people as often as I can I am grateful for their service, and I do my best to serve and work. God is ok with that -- I know He is, for I am doing my best and making the best choices I can. If I am wrong, at least I am now acknowledging that the wrong was my choice, and that is a step in the right direction.

Culinary Experiments

My kids hate this picture. "What is it?" you may ask, in a tone of disgust. It is one of my weird culinary experiments. I have been experimenting with making water kefir. The jar on the right has the kefir starter in it along with 2 figs and a slice of lemon. The fruit gives the kefir starter the minerals it needs to stay healthy, and they eat the sugar in the water that I added at the beginning. The second jar is kefir water and juice. I am letting it ferment until it is bubbly. I love the taste, but even I have to admit that it looks pretty gross. I found the idea on a blog, but she  made it all look so much better. Here's how she posted it:

http://www.fermentedfoodlab.com/make-probiotic-rich-water-kefir/

It looks much prettier, and tastier looking too. It is very good for the digestive tract and has other possible health benefits as well. My kefir grains are now dead, so I have to order some more. They were given to me by a friend who used them for kefir made from milk, so I'm not sure that the water environment was really the best for them. You can buy specific water kefir starters so that's the next step. I think I will buy the mineral drops at the same time so my kids stop making gagging sounds whenever they see it; and secretly I will stop being repulsed by the look of it as well. :) Cheers!

Pupusas!

I like a lot of different kinds of food, but I think pupusas are my favorite. They are the national food of El Salvador. I first tried them on my mission. When I came home I didn't even try to make them, because I had only ever eaten them, and I had never seen how they were made.  We never lived in an area that had a pupuseria, so I couldn't even buy them! Then I found a recipe on the internet, and I decided to try it. The results were so-so, but closer than anything I could have come up with on my own. Finally, we moved to Minnesota and I convinced a sister, Maria Aguilera, in our ward to teach me how to make them. It made a huge difference! The final, and best teacher, was my friend Patricia. She helped me refine things and made them with me. I also watched a few youtube videos and that helped as well. It is wonderful to know that whenever I get a hankering for them, I can make them myself. I'm pretty proud of the fact that for a huera, I make a decent pupusa, and the yummy curtido that goes with it!

Below is a picture of Brent, Patricia and Milton after all the pupusas are cooked, the dishes are done, and the extras are wrapped up to go.

Patricia and Brent

Brent and Patricia have a good relationship and I love it. When he was born she posted a picture on Facebook of her holding him at the hospital with the title, "My grandson!" and her sisters in El Salvador all thought Brent was really her grandson. They all thought he was the son of her oldest boy, Alex. Now if you knew Alex, you would know that it would be next to impossible for him to have a son that looks like Brent, but nevertheless it made good chismando for her relatives in El Salvador. Alex will ask her every once in a while how his son is doing. It makes me laugh every time she tells me.

Patricia's "baby" Milton is sometimes a little jealous of Brent, but he is very sweet with him too. He told Patricia, before Brent was born, that we should name him Milton. Patricia told him that if he wanted the privilege of being the namesake then he would also have to cough up the funds to be the god-father as well. Milton decided it wasn't worth it. :)

Patricia started calling Brent "Tamalito" from the beginning because we wrapped him up tight in his blanket like a little tamale. It is such a cute nickname. Here is a picture of Patricia holding up the tamales we made together as well as the Tamalito.

Patricia as come up with more than one nickname for Brent and I love them all. She originally jokingly said she wanted us to name him Patrick after her. She now calls him Brenty, Tamalito, Chubino, Coqueto and few more I can't remember exactly how to say. 

When my youngest daughter Lucy was a baby, an acquaintance commented that she was like a "bon-bon" which is the Spanish word for marshmallow. She said she was, "chubby, white and sweet." Brent is a little bon-bon too.

I am thankful for Patricia's friendship, and the blessings that come from knowing her. I am also grateful to her, and all those who love my children; for the power their love has in shaping my children and their future in such beautiful ways. Recently, Lucy and I were making a list of kids she would like to play with during the summer, and she told me she wanted to add "Parisha" and "Julie Boolley" (another one of her adult "friends") to the list. I whole-heartedly agreed. What a gift to know how to play with a child, and to be worthy of the title "friend" to them. I'm sure Brent, if he could express it, would also put Patricia on his list of play pals -- and of the best kind of friends.

Chubino, Coqueto, Chub-a-Lubba, Chonchito, Brenty

John recently cut Brent's hair, and I just had to take pictures of all the cuteness. He is watching, "Peep and the Big Wide World," which has become a haircutting classic at our house. His little nose and pursed lip profile is so adorable, as is the rubbing of the eyes and nose. 

This is Daniel's favorite picture of Brent, and the girls love it too. It always makes us smile.

Here is little Brent in his Sunday duds; he's so handsome! I just love to smooch those chubby cheeks!

Daniel and Brent are hanging out a little more and I think Brent is becoming more of a brother, and not just a baby, to Daniel. They have their own playful physical rough-housing. I think that qualifies as a graduation from baby to little brother, don't you?

Pizza Guilt

This is a post about guilt; specifically food I feed to my kids and myself about which I feel a lot of guilt. Hopefully we will end on a happier note. I know topics like this are a big no-no for bloggers. We must keep everyone happy! Sorry, but without the guilt.

Pizza Guilt. Homemade Macaroni and Cheese guilt. Boxed Macaroni and Cheese guilt. Top Ramen guilt. Hot dog guilt. Orange chicken, breaded and fried, guilt. Cheese sticks. High sugar yogurt. Sweet cereal. Semi-sweet cereal. Fried scones. Peanut butter on pancakes, and even worse on waffles. Bread products made only with white flour. Anything with butter. Cookies, cakes, candy, pies, ice cream -- GUILT.

Surprisingly, I don't have the same amount of guilt for ice cream cones that I do for a bowl of ice cream. Weird.

These are not the only foods I offer my children, but they are the ones I feel guilty about.

Now, as a balancing portion to this guilt post, I will try to remember what I offered to our family in the way of food and meals yesterday:

Breakfast: Maple muffins and quinoa breakfast porridge with strawberries and bananas.

Lunch: Carrot sticks, hummus, pears, tortilla chips and salsa, cheese stick, cheese Goldfish crackers.

Dinner: Vegetable Gumbo soup, turkey/oatmeal burgers, carrot-ginger beverage.

Treat for FHE: fresh pineapple.

Not too bad! Hurray for me, and our whole family!

"Washing Dishes"

Ah, the time of life when dishes were fun. All of my children loved playing in water as toddlers, but I think this is the only time I caught it on film. It is just another one of those little gifts God has given stay-at-home mothers so that they can get dishes done. It isn't an efficient way to do things, but it works and it is the most peaceful one I've found so far.

Goopy Mush

John would hate that I am starting this post with his picture; however, I have to start somewhere, don't I? I like him a lot, and he is the best man I've ever known, so it seems like a good thing. Oh, John my handsome husband, how do I love thee? Let me count some ways and why's.

1. Your adam's apple. Do you see it? I like it. Oh, and your stubble, and your ears, and the way your hair does that feathery thing. Your blue eyes are pretty attractive too. You would probably be rolling those attractive blue eyes right now if you could read this post, but you won't because you have no idea how to find a blog, Facebook, or any other social media site. Well, technically you could if you wanted to, but you have no interest whatsoever. I can blab all I want about how handsome you are and you will never know I am blabbing, unless I make you let me show you how. Which I have no intention of doing.

2. You don't use social media sites. Right now, I love this.

3. Your kind smile is indicative of your heart. You have selfish tendencies just like the rest of us, but you are such a kind and thoughtful person. You try to smile whenever you can and I like that. 

4. You break off a small piece of your bread and then you put it in your mouth. This continues, bite by bite, until you eat it all. You do this with all bread products. Why do you do this? I like that you are mysterious. :)

5. Your body. That's all I can say about that one without blushing; too late, I'm blushing.

6. You can work with all women and not go crazy. Seriously, that is quite a talent. It means you are a good listener, slow to judge, friendly, patient, intelligent, helpful, courteous, thoughtful, observant, and able to appreciate the differences between men and women. I admire all this very, very much.

7. You can work with all men and not go crazy. How do you do this my friend? I guess the above applies here as well.

8. You are a wonderful husband, which means all of the above AND that you are able to love unconditionally and persevere even when you don't feel like it. You also don't talk much, so I guess that helps when you are thinking things that are not unconditionally loving and so forth. I'm so grateful you are my husband.

9. You shovel the snow off the driveway, sidewalks and when it snows a lot you shovel it off our roof. What a man!

10. You get up at 5:15 for work and never complain. You do your work, you come home, you go to bed and get marginal amounts of sleep, and you get up before the sun again. Thank you.

11. You love to look at maps. 

12. You are so brainy, and you don't make a big deal about it. You are brainy and personable. What a nice, refreshingly different combination. 

13. You exercise, almost every day. 

14. You like chinese/asian food. You introduced me to Pho!

15. You don't point fingers when something goes wrong.

16. You are an introvert. Hey, me too!