Nurturing

I just got back from visiting teaching. The lesson was entitled "Guardians of the Hearth" and it discussed nurturing. One of the quotes was from President Hinckley where he said,
 “You are the bearers of the children. You are they who nurture them and establish within them the habits of their lives. No other work reaches so close to divinity as does the nurturing of the sons and daughters of God.”

Quotes like this have sometimes troubled me for a variety of reasons. The first reason is the huge amount of responsibility I feel when I read about nurturing. You see, I may have a slight phobia of babies. I like them, but I've never been one to go out of my way to pick them up or play with them. While some of my friends became aunts or uncles when they were about 8 years old, I was 8 years old the last time I really spent much time with a little baby (my youngest brother). I didn't do too much babysitting, and even when I babysat younger cousins or nieces or nephews I never felt like I was the primary one taking care of the babies.

So, to hear that I have the divine role of nurturing feels like a great burden. Especially with a little baby boy coming in about 3 months.

And goodness knows that I'm not the only woman who feels this way. I think there are a lot of women in the Church who get almost annoyed when they hear that they're "supposed" to be good at nurturing. "But what about the rest of  my skill set?" they wonder. "Why do 75-year-old men feel like they can pigeonhole me into a corner with what my personality and skills are supposed to be?"

To some extent, I've sort of felt that way. But I said something while I was visiting teaching that surprised me. I said, "What President Hinckley's saying is that nurturing is part of our divine role, even if it's not part of our personality."

Thing is, there are lots and lots of things we are asked to do that we just plain aren't good at. Many men don't feel like they're cut out to be Young Men's President because they don't feel fun enough. Many women don't feel charitable enough to be Relief Society President. And then there are the less temporary callings, like being a parent, which no one is actually qualified for.

But the point is, if God calls us to do something, then He will give us the capability to accomplish it. Furthermore, sometimes He tells us we are good at something or that we're supposed to do something, not because we're actually good at it, but because we can become good at it.

So even though I'm scared about taking on a new responsibility of nurturing my own children, I can have the confidence that I'll be prepared for it because it is my divine role.

Pregnant Ponderings, Part . . . Two?

Lately, life's been good. Lots of school, lots of homework, lots of working on thesis, lots of old Arthur episodes, lots of graduate schools accepting Kevin for his PhD . . . just busy and good.

There's not a whole lot to report on, but here's a list of some mildly interesting things:

~Environmental or Economical?: A few weeks ago I talked to a professor about some homework points, and before we got very far into the discussion, he said, "I notice that you and your husband like to use as few sheets of paper as possible. Is this environmental or economical?"
Actually, it's neither. It's probably a habit I've developed over 16 years of school, coupled with a strong dislike of wastefulness (not necessarily environmentally driven). So I didn't quite know how to respond to him. I stuttered out, "I think it's laziness . . . no, I don't need paper . . . no, I just bought a ream not that long ago . . ." (And since then I've used more paper per assignment.)
Then, a few days ago, I got homework back for another class. This required a printout of a plot which was mostly black. Since the printer I usually use doesn't do a good job with black, I inverted the image so that it was mostly white. I put a little note on the printout saying, "I inverted this to save ink." When I got the assignment back, I had full points, but he had underlined where I wrote "to save ink" and said, "Wow! Nice. Either environmentally conscious or budget conscious -> both admirable." I guess some professors are more a fan of the "environmental or economical" than others.

~Liken the Scriptures: I have a goal to read the Old Testament this year, and right now I'm smack dab in the middle of Leviticus. It's been . . . difficult. I know there's lots of wonderful symbolism in the Law of Moses, but it's just not all that interesting to read. The Institute manual I've been using has helped a lot, but still. I just don't care about the dimensions of the tabernacle or the Church Handbook in 1500 B.C. Worst part is, sometimes there are unmet expectations. Like when you think of Exodus, you think, "Oh! Story of Moses! That story rocks!" and it does. And then you get into the wilderness, and Exodus goes downhill from there in terms of storytelling. (Again, it's full of wonderful symbolism, but the story is just not there.) Like, I knew Leviticus and Numbers would be tedious, but Exodus?
It's like driving to eastern Kansas on I-70. The first part of the trip is like Genesis. It's interesting. Especially there at the end when you're going through all the red rock. Then you get to western Colorado and it's still exciting and interesting and full of tunnels (I love tunnels). And similarly, the beginning of Exodus still has a great story.
But then comes east of Denver. And nothing against Colorado, but eastern Colorado just isn't that great to look at. I mean, people give Kansas a hard time for being flat, but there's plenty of Colorado which is just as flat as western Kansas. In fact, once you hit Hays or Salina, Kansas isn't flat at all!
So where am I going with this analogy? Eastern Colorado = 2nd half of Exodus (definitely not living up to its name, either the state or the book). Western Kansas = Leviticus (long and flat and painful, but you were expecting it). Eastern Kansas = Numbers (interesting again). I mean, I think Numbers is more interesting than Leviticus. Doesn't it have the story about people eating so much quail that they throw it up through their noses?
I'm pretty sure that's not what they mean when they say liken the scriptures, but hey. There's a lot in Leviticus that I don't plan on likening to myself. Like not eating pork.

Here's a picture for good measure:

Either eastern Colorado or western Kansas. Pretty, but flat.

(speaking of Colorado and Kansas . . . it's been way too long since we visited family out there. We'll stop by this summer. Probably when we drive to wherever we're going for grad school.)

~Baby update: My belly button popped out. Yup.

And there you have it. My deepest thoughts from the past few weeks. :)