Worth of a Woman

 Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. - Proverbs 31:10

Something I consider as an extreme blessing in my life is to be a woman as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Personally, I have always felt that I have been taught that I have value and worth that is individual and unique. I have been taught about women of integrity, faith, and virtue such as Ruth, Miriam, Esther, Mary, the woman with the issue of blood, Sariah, Abish, and Emma Smith. Each story has taught me that woman can make a difference. Each story has strengthened me through different trials. Each story has confirmed to me that my role as a woman is equal to any role that a man holds. 

I find it beautiful that where men are hard, I am soft. I'm grateful that I'm tender. I'm glad that I'm sensitive. I love that by simply holding a child I can experience a cleansing and purifying feeling of peace. I relish the thought that I can comfort and counsel with my husband as an equal. I look forward to the day that I can use my intellect and my talents to raise up cute little children with blue eyes (and maybe freckles). 

I recognize that other women may feel differently.

But for me, I am glad that I am a woman.

I am glad that I am a woman of Christ.

Confessions of a Crumpled Up Dollar Bill

My sweet husband has been working so hard to give himself (and our family) great opportunities in the future at internships and work that I've often been alone this summer. 

And by alone I mean lonely. Very lonely.

Spirits, like bodies, need nourishment and consistent care. Instead of filling my loneliness with something of substance, I search on social media for some type of interaction. I have spent my time on facebook, instagram, pinterest, blogs, reading comments on news and opinion articles... anything. All summer I've been telling myself that I've been fine. I haven't changed...

When we choose to consume the attitudes and opinions of the mass media, we find our own values and viewpoints following suit. We tell ourselves we’re not being affected by these messages, but that is not possible. 

- Elder Patrick Kearon, Opening Our Hearts to Revelation

Over the course of these past two or so months I've felt myself grow more cynical, judgmental, and pessimistic. I've had an extremely low perception of myself. Extremely low.

This is what I believe has happened:

I was not actively seeking to fill my heart with darkness. Instead, I was too casual about filling my soul with light. I told myself that I'm still doing as I should, but it's like my "spiritual feasting" has the nourishment of a stick of celery and my media intake has the indulgence and calories of a gallon of ice cream. In one sitting.

I think since I have been so absorbed in media, I have begun to focus solely on what others may think of me. Everything has become a comparison: her hair is more beautiful, his words are more witty, her arms are skinnier, she serves so selflessly, I'm worthless. I've gained 20 pounds since my college days. Everybody probably looks at me and thinks, "Wow. She has definitely gained weight since she got married." My waist isn't thin enough. I don't cook as well as she does, I don't work as hard as he does...

It consumes me. Every thought is some form of judgment. Every minor weakness is just a confirmation of my worthlessness.

As summer continued, I told myself it was not a problem and instead of fighting it fed it because that's easier. I have tried to volunteer to help others, tried to be productive in some way, but then I listened as the adversary whispered, "You can't do it well anyway. You're not even that good. Besides, nobody wants to spend time with you." I allowed myself to believe that I'm even more of a failure and even more alone. Worth nothing because I can do nothing.

Within only two months of time, I have forgotten completely how to hear the sweet, comforting words of my Savior. I have felt the Spirit, but have consistently declined to believe it. Instead, I have welcomed in the slimy, degrading thoughts from the adversary.

Lately, I've been trying to change and it has been HARD. You see, I am a daughter of God. I have worth, and influence. Maybe not a lot now, but I will someday have a world of influence as a mother. And the devil knows it. He doesn't want me to know it, or to use it. He has been fighting to convince me that I am not enough. That I don't measure up.

But I do.

A few weeks ago I set the song below as my Sunday morning alarm. I picked it because it starts off sweetly and calmly. This Sunday was the first that I actually listened to the message rather than hit snooze.

...

In this world it seems 

You may never be enough

Don't let anyone 

Convince you that it's true

So much beauty 

Lives inside of you

You are enough

Just look up

Remember you are greatest

When you walk with God

When his light is in your eyes

You are truly strong

You don't have to prove your beauty

In the eyes of men

You are divine within

You were sent here to become like Him

"To Become Like Him" - Jenny Phillips

Like the woman mentioned in President Uchdorf's talk, I have come to realize that I am worth something (read it if you haven't). Accepting that a crumpled up dollar bill has as much worth as a crisp new one seems simple. It's not.

I made this to remind myself, though.

I am trying. I'm asking my Savior to be my friend once more, and seeking to find His peace. And I will overcome. Because I'm not a failure. Because I am not alone.

I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me. Phillipians 4:13

Bad at Baking

I really enjoy making things.

Sometimes, I stop thinking. Like last night, when I put the vegetables on the stove to be steamed, but never turned on the burner. Or the other time when I didn't turn on the burner to cook rice. Or how I have forgotten to turn on the oven to cook chicken...

A friend gave me a zucchini (so kind of her), and I've been wanting to make zucchini bread for a while now. I pulled up a recipe, and realized that I had exactly half of the amount of vegetable oil that was required in the recipe.

Okay. Cut the recipe in half. Easy. I'm a math teacher. I can divide by two.

Halfway through mixing I forgot I was halving the recipe, and started putting in full amounts of ingredients. Oops. I ran to the store to get the rest of what I was missing, and quickly doubled everything that was previously halved and finished making the batter/dough.

Blunder solved! Because I'm a math teacher and can multiply by two.

I tried to put away the flour. Instead, it ended up staying on the kitchen floor.

You see, we ran out of flour a week or so ago, so Hiram bought a HUGE bag of it. I've been carrying it around by holding it inside of a plastic grocery bag (the flour leaks otherwise). When I picked it up to move it back to our shelves, the grocery bag split and I spilled the flour. I was holding the flour bag AND the plastic bag, but apparently it was too heavy to hold steady. My black shorts changed to a nice white and grey, and the floor was looking pretty nice, too.

I grabbed the broom and the swiffer and fixed my mess.

FINALLY, I started pouring the batter into bread and muffin pans. After I had dished almost all of it into the pans, I realized that there was about a teaspoon of nutmeg at the bottom of the mixing bowl. So, I scooped out all of the batter, put it back into the bowl, and mixed more thoroughly.

For a second time, I scooped out all of the batter into the baking pans. I set the pans into our oven. You would think I would be able to relax and wait and read Harry Potter (since it's his birthday). But no... I don't trust our oven.

Let me explain: our oven is temperamental. Sometimes it takes 10 minutes to preheat. Other times it can be turned on for over an hour and nothing will happen. I can bake the same recipe over and over and produce something different every time.

I don't trust our oven.

After forty minutes (when they should have been done), the muffins and bread had risen about a half inch, but were extremely watery. I closed the oven door and reset the timer for ten more minutes. After about five minutes, I smelled smoke. I opened the oven door, and saw that the batter had overflowed the bread pans and was burning on the oven floor.

I actually saw flames. Small ones, though.

As this was my first oven fire, I think I did a good job. I made sure the fire was out, took out everything that was still baking as well as the rack that had batter. I scooped out some of the zucchini bread batter and put the bread pans back in the oven on a new, clean rack and on top of a cookie sheet. Then I let the zucchini bread continue baking. I opened up tons of windows and turned on all of our fans. I'm still curious as to whether Hiram will smell the smoke when he comes home...

The muffins came out a little interesting, but the bread is perfect. Which is wonderful because I'm keeping the muffins and giving the bread away.

Weird muffin. Awesome bread. Raw zucchini for me to bake tomorrow.

What I learned from this experience:

• Always check how many ingredients I have before baking
• Don't trust plastic bags
• Put less batter in my pans (really, I filled them about 3/4 of the way, and thought this would be fine since that works for banana bread)
• Bake in someone else's oven