It’s one of my all-time favorite quotes.
When I was a teenager and right about everything (and completely unhappy -total coincidence, I’m sure), I had a very loving bishop tell me that my father would be happier behind a plow than under a car.
“I know,” I sighed, realizing the Tragedy that was My Life. Only as I sighed, I realized that my bishop wasn’t being critical of my dad… in fact, he was actually giving the man a COMPLIMENT.
I didn’t understand. Didn’t the bishop even HEAR his own WORDS? He said my dad would be happy behind a PLOW.
And just like that, I lumped my bishop into my Pile. Pile o’ Adults That Don’t Know Anything About Anything At All. Poor, poor ignorants.
Well, somewhere between 14 and 27 I grew up a very little.
And there’s a part of me that wants to go back in time and whisper in my own adolescent ear, “In 13 years, you’re going to listen primarily to music that was made before 1960. You’re going to spend your time obsessed with antiques stores and black and white movies, and for your 22nd birthday, you’re going to ask for a home canning kit. And you’re going to LOVE it more than the wide-leg jeans you’re wearing right now. Oh, and you should probably buy your Dad a plow for Christmas…”
My Pile o’ Adults is still there. It still has all the same people in it, but I changed the title up a bit. They’re now my Pile o’ Adults That Know Absolutely Everything About Anything -Call Them Daily.
My Dad, who endured many-an-adolescent eye roll from me, taught me very well about labor.
I didn’t realize that when he was teaching me about labor, he was also teaching me how to get every good thing from God. I just thought I had it pretty rough.
Right now, I’m pregnant. I want to keep up my pace. I like to play pretend… Pretend I’m NOT Pregnant. So I do. So I DID this weekend, and then on Sunday I was an absolute waste. A day of rest? How about a day of comatose?
My Stake President once said there was TWO parts to the 4th Commandment: Six days shalt thou LABOR, and on the 7th day… rest.
“Some people forget that we’re supposed to be laboring,” he said.
Thou, O God dost sell unto us all good things at the price of labour.”
I canned. I realized that isn’t saying much, but it always makes me feel SUPER human. A few years ago, I walked into my Grandmother’s house and said, “I just canned 11 quarts of peaches!”
And she was proud. She really was. Then she said, “I remember when I used to can 100.”
“One. Hundred. Quarts?” I asked. I couldn’t believe it.
“Oh yes. We didn’t have a choice then though. We had to can because that’s what we had to eat.”
Suddenly my 11 quarts seemed pretty sad… and Grandma wouldn’t purposefully make me feel that way, but it put everything into perspective for me.
This weekend, I squared off with 10 dozen ears of corn, 2 1/2 quarts of homemade v8 juice, a few pounds of homegrown sliced jalapenos, and a storage tub full of crab apples.
Friday, it was corn.
My kids helped. This corn was not our corn. Someone else grew it, and they didn’t get a chance to spray for bugs. The corn -although DELICIOUS -was riddled with worms. They didn’t bother me a bit. Having grown up raising sweet corn, I knew all about worms in corn. I also knew about choke weed and gnats and farmer’s tans and how to use choke weed to stand up a corn plant that you’ve accidentally chopped down in the middle of early-morning hoeing.
But my KIDS.
They’re too young to know about worms in corn. We sprayed for bugs in our corn and the worms were scarce. The kids love husking corn, so when they saw the 10 dozen ears on the counter… they were pumped.
“We can help!” They cried. After all, I have them convinced that THEY ARE the best corn huskers in the entire world. I think they feel they owe it to corn husking to help out.
And so! They did.
They each started peeling away the layers on one ear of corn and were HORRIFIED at what they found. My daughter was so startled she threw her entire ear into the giant black trash bag I’d hung on the back of a chair.
“MOM! There’s WORMS in THERE! We can’t DO THIS!” She cried out.
My son isn’t one of those boys who loves creepy things. In fact, he HATES them. He handed me his ear of corn with big, pleading eyes.
“I don’t want to do this,” he said.
I changed their tune -not in a sweet way, mind you because I’m pregnant and tired and had approximately 3 gashes in my hands from removing corn kernels.
“Be BRAVE,” I told them, “Be BRAVE and you will feel so great inside knowing that you did something that scared you. If you’re afraid of the worms, learn how to BEAT them.”
And so! They did.
They would husk and beat their ears of corn against the trash bag with a vengeance.
“Get OFF, worm! Get OFF!” They’d jump up and down, worried the worm might actually touch their skin. Each time they “beat” a worm, I would praise them and ask them how they felt.
“GREAT!”
“I DID IT!”
And then, in my daughter’s case, “I FEEL THE SPIRIT THROUGH MY WHOLE BODY!”
Well.
I thought to myself, ‘Oh, how can she feel the spirit in this kitchen? I’m grouchy, sweaty, impatient, and nagging at them.’ And then I realized that when we fear something, we can’t feel the Spirit. When there’s no fear, we can.
She had overcome her fear. She was right. Despite me impatient nagging, she DID feel the Spirit. And it was evident as the night went on. Each ear became a conquest… and she sent me into stitches when she thrust a big ear as far into the sky as she could and sing-songed, “NOOOOOOOOOO WOOOOOORRRRRRMMMMS!!!!!!!”
And you haven’t really heard a sing-song until you’ve heard the girl sing-song.
We didn’t HAVE to do that corn, you know. We could have snuggled together on the couch and watched a movie. I could have sat at my computer and surfed the net while the kids played in the living room.
But:
We teamed up together and conquered fears in the kitchen. Conquering fears is definitely a GOOD THING that comes at the price of labour.
Saturday morning, I pulled out The Champ -my parent’s old juicer. I made homemade v8 juice (because I never have, that’s why):
I used a quart of it to make crockpot beef stew yesterday and it turned out amazing!
After the v8 was made, I washed the juicer and started on the apples. My kids love The Champ. It makes them feel like champs to juice things… plus they get a big kick out of watching the “poop” come out the end.
Pulp? Poop? What’s the difference?
We made juice (sweetened) and jelly (with and without pectin) and cider (our favorite. I made up a recipe).
Somewhere in there, I candied some jalapenos and was depressed YET AGAIN that no matter how many jalapenos I grow and slice I only ever get 4 pints of that candied goodness and 4 pints is not near enough.
Friday night, I completely cleaned my kitchen. I gave it the works. There was NO SIGN of cornage (ha) anywhere in sight. Saturday night, I sort of kind of cleaned my kitchen. I cleaned it enough to work in on Sunday.
But by the end of Saturday night, I was a complete zombie. My kids quickly fell fast asleep, and even though we were all worn out… it was the most fulfilling weekend we’d had in a long time!
There’s so many things to be learned from something as “mundane” as canning and preserving and freezing.
Not the least of which is that worms always pick at the sweetest corn.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to whip that baby out when my daughter comes home from school, crying over some silly bully teasing her because her backpack isn’t cool (which is totally is, but anyway).
Today I’m off to the dentist to get a nasty cavity fixed.
I love my dentist, but I hate dentistry work in general. So pray for me.
I’d rather be canning.
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