Exponent II's Blog, page 287

Exponent II Misappropriation of Funds Announcement

Dear Exponent II Community,

We want to make you aware of an unfolding situation. During a recent financial audit by the Board, we discovered that our treasurer has, over the course of several years, misappropriated Exponent II funds for personal use. She misled the board by circulating monthly budget reports that did not accurately reflect Exponent II expenses or bank account balances. The financial loss to our organization appears to be very significant. Because Exponent II is a small, volunteer-led organization that relies on mutual trust and operates on a tight budget, this is a serious financial blow.

The person involved has been removed from all positions within the Exponent II organization, both official and unofficial. She has admitted full culpability and expressed a commitment to restitution.

We have immediately and deliberately taken steps to protect our organization. We are working with legal and accounting professionals to determine the extent of the loss and the proper steps forward, including additional safeguards within our governing structure to ensure that something like this cannot happen again.

We are heartsick about the implications of this situation, not the least of which is that our stewardship over your funds has been compromised. But we are committed to moving forward with our mission. We are confident that the Exponent II organization we love will emerge stronger and more stable than before. Thank you for all of your support.

Sincerely,

The Exponent II Board and Emeritus Board

Heather Sundahl

Barbara Christiansen

Pandora Brewer

Liz Johnson

Kirsten Campbell

Emily Gray

Margaret Olsen Hemming

Susan Christiansen

Jana Remy

Emily Clyde Curtis

Barbara Taylor

Brooke Williams

Linda Hoffman Kimball

Denise Kelly

Aimee Evans Hickman

Caroline Kline

April Young Bennett

Did Joy D. Jones really just use the words “Mother in Heaven” in a General Conference session?

Yes. Yes, she did. And we’re thrilled.

Instruction Manual

In a thoughtful attempt to domesticate me, my mother gave me a bread machine for my birthday when I was a sophomore at college. At the time I was eating mostly ramen noodles and raisin bran, so surely this would expand my repertoire. All you have to do is put the ingredients in the bread pan; so what could go wrong? Turns out a lot can go wrong. First, I would forget yeast or some other ingredient or I would not put the timer on right and a soggy mess would be waiting when i got to it. I was frustrated after having to eat a few brick-like loaves and scrubbing dried hunks of dough out of the whole machine multiple times. I followed the directions more carefully and still the dough exploded over the whole machine and baked into a mess. Time for some more serious investigation.

 

Eventually I determined that the instruction manual that came with the machine, from which I was taking my recipes, was for a machine with a larger bread pan. I had been trying to make a 1.5 lb. loaf of bread in a pan with a 1 lb. loaf capacity. No wonder it was so messy and doughy! But I was following the instructions! No matter how carefully I repeated the instructions, I would have never come out with a perfectly formed loaf. I had to recalculate to get an edible loaf the right size.

 

In my own life, I willingly followed the instruction manual I was taught. I was expecting a perfectly leavened rosy outcome to be the result. I was convinced the instruction manual I was following WAS the gospel. I was raised to be a wife and mother. It was supposed to bring me true happiness and joy. I went to seminary, I went to church, I went to BYU, I went to the temple and married. I went on to have a baby and then another. I went to church and supported my husband as gospel doctrine teacher, ward clerk, a counselor in the bishopric, high priest group leader, and in another bishopric. I had more babies. I brought them all to church by myself and sat alone in the pew for years. I stayed home while he studied and then while he worked. I baked bread, I cooked rice and beans. I studied conference talks. I used my food storage regularly. I read scriptures daily with my children. I had family home evening every week. When I was unhappy I studied the words of my church leaders about my role, and tried to more perfectly follow the recipe. It didn’t work. I tried to make my life fit in the pan, but it exploded all over. I was miserable and exhausted. I was an invisible mess.

Turns out the instruction manual was for a different model. Turns out all along there were women writing their own manual and their own recipes for their own life. They just intuitively knew what kind of bread to bake and easily found how much of each ingredient to put in. For me, it has been a rough road to conceptualize that I could choose which kind of bread to bake. It is taking some troubleshooting to figure out how to remake my life. Setting aside the recipe found in the ‘manual’; recalculating to make a fitting bread of life. There are other ways to bake bread than in a machine. There are other recipes. There are so many many different kinds of bread. So many lives that may be acceptable to God. And maybe even a life that will be also one I can continue to live.

[image error]

Patriarchy Love Poetry

Want to say, “I love you,” to that special someone? And also, “I support the patriarchal order in the home”? Try one of these patriarchy–approved love poems for your sweetheart/head of household/helpmate.

[image error]For her:

Roses are red,

The river is wide,

If you weren’t a girl,

I’d let you preside.

For him:

I didn’t elect you,

Your term never expires,

Yet we don’t call you ruler,

You’re just my presider.

For her:

We are a team,

Together we decide,

Unless we disagree,

Then it’s me; I preside.

I love how this system

Gives both of us a say.

I love even more

That I always get my way.

For him:

You’re the one on top

In more ways than one.

Being subject to you

Can be lots of fun.

Y’know what gets me in the mood?

When you call on me to bless the food.

For her:

I love the food too!

I love how you make it!

I love that I don’t have to!

I’ve no time to bake it!

I’m working two jobs

So you don’t have to work at all.

I’m never at home

But “head of the house” I’m called.

For him:

You hold a steady job.

You love the kids so sweetly.

You volunteer at church.

I trust you completely.

But your righteousness would disappear

If we didn’t call you the head, I fear.

For her:

You’re naturally nurturing,

Self-sacrificing,

Angelic.

Happy to drudge:

Mop the floors!

Clean the toilet!

As I lounge in my cot,

Watching you do the chores,

I’m humbled that God made me your overlord.

For him:

This poem will be brief.

I like to be quiet and let you speak.

For her:

You’re the perfect one to share my life

The one I searched for to be my wife,

Intelligent,

Kind,

Worthy to bear my seed,

Yet adequately inferior so I can lead.

For him:

I’m glad you feel important.

We all know if you didn’t,

You’d turn into a monster, a cad;

If there was a sin you’d jump right in it!

Spiritual leader: that’s you.

It’s been divinely assigned.

And yet, as a lady,

I have to keep my man in line.

I’m the neck that moves the head.

So I pretend to have no spine.

[image error]For her:

I feel so needed at home

When I tell you what to do.

‘Though I’m hardly ever here

I’m just as involved as you!

For him:

When I nag you to do things

That could be done by me:

Lead family prayer!

Conduct FHE!

I’m just showing you I care.

Your assistant I will be.

For her:

Would you ever leave me?

I know you surely won’t.

How could you afford it?

Money is power

And I’ve got it

And you don’t.

For him:

You’re the captain of our ship,

The commander, CEO.

Except that we don’t have a ship,

An army or a crew.

Sometimes I wonder why we need a boss

For our tiny team of two.

But if a leader there must be

I guess it’s fine that it’s you, not me.

For her:

I’m the head of the house

The captain of our crew

You’re helpmate, first counselor,

My trusted number two.

There must be order in all things

And ours is me first, then you.

Ex-Mormon Woman Running for Prime Minister of New Zealand

A former Mormon woman, Jacinda Ardern, is in the running to become the next Prime Minister of New Zealand. Ardern left the church when she was in her 20’s as a result of her personal position in favour of marriage equality. In numerous interviews, Ardern’s Mormon background is mentioned, usually noting the positive characteristics of church members—including integrity, care for others, and service. Comparatively, the incumbent, Bill English is a devout and practicing Catholic.

 

This is an interesting election to watch through the lens of religious devotion: Is it best to vote for the individual who has left a church as the result of a “vote of conscience”? Or is it best to vote for the candidate who is a church loyalist, even if when voting in contrast to church dogma?

Interesting links:

Facebook interview where she briefly addresses her Mormon past

Latest News on the election-

 

 

Do women preside at church?

[image error]

Photo by Tim Gouw on Unsplash

Our church places a huge emphasis on the word “preside.” The word preside is often used in sacrament meetings, general conference, and other church meetings. Whoever conducts often announces that someone is presiding. Always, that someone is a man.

What exactly does preside mean? “Preside” reminds me a lot of the word “president.” Preside could mean someone who is the president or person in charge of an organization. In ward meetings, it’s usually announced that the bishop presides. If the stake president visits, then the person conducting announces that the stake president presides. I find it confusing at times and I don’t even see any reason for this “presiding” to be mentioned. What exactly does it mean? And why does the church put so much emphasis on it?

The Family Proclamation states that husbands preside in a family. There have been many general conference quotes both for and against this statement. For example, L. Tom Perry has said that in a family there is no president or vice-president, but there are co-presidents. That right there debunks the statement that only the husband presides. According to L. Tom Perry’s words, both the husband and wife preside. They are both presidents. Here are L. Tom Perry’s exact words:

“Therefore, there is not a president or a vice president in a family. The couple works together eternally for the good of the family. They are united together in word, in deed, and in action as they lead, guide, and direct their family unit. They are on equal footing. They plan and organize the affairs of the family jointly and unanimously as they move forward.”

There used to be a line in there that said that wives and husbands are co-presidents, but it isn’t there anymore and I have no idea why. I thought it was the best line ever! However, this missing line has been quoted in other places, such as this article, which says:

“There is not a president and vice president in a family. We have co-presidents working together eternally for the good of their family . . . They are on equal footing. They plan and organize the affairs of the family jointly and unanimously as they move forward.” (Missing phrase is in bold.)

My brother dislikes the word preside. He has told me that in his Elder’s Quorum meetings, whenever they talk about men’s roles, one man will comment and say that the man presides. Then, another man will counter his comment and say that men and women work together. It sounded to me like they go back and forth between these two opposing ideas.

I used to hear a lot in church meetings about men being the head of the household and presiding and all that, but today, I don’t hear this as much. It seems that the church is becoming silent on this issue and is slowly moving away from the old tradition of the husband being in charge. More and more I hear at church that wives and husbands are equals and are supposed to work together. Instead of vocally abandoning the “head of the household” idea, the church chooses to become more silent about it.

There are a few instances in which I’ve heard of women being announced as presiding. At a temple meeting once, I heard the person conducting say that Brother and Sister so-and-so were presiding. I was very surprised! Those that were presiding were a couple. The wife was assistant to the matron and the husband was counselor to the temple president. I’ve been to lots of temple meetings, since I’m a temple worker, but only once have I heard them mention that a woman was presiding. Usually they only name the man.

Another instance in which I’ve heard of this is when members talk about a woman who leads a mission with her husband as a mission president. (I didn’t want to call the woman “mission president’s wife” since that’s not even a real title.) This is the only other time I’ve heard of a woman presiding. Usually someone will say, “My husband and I presided over the so-and-so mission.” I’ve even heard a stake president say, “They were mission presidents in the so-and-so mission.”

Now, it’s great that there are instances of women presiding, but the problem is that they never say that a woman presides over a group of men and women unless her husband presides with her. I don’t know the reasoning behind this.

There shouldn’t be anything unusual about a woman presiding. After all, if you look at the workplace, you’ll see numerous women who are presidents and leaders in their workplace. Women leaders and women being in charge of groups of men and women is not something new to the world, so why should it be something new to the church?

 

 

 

 

I Know.

[image error]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I was young, I felt everything with absolute certainty. I knew my father was the smartest, my mother was the sweetest, and my sisters were the meanest. I knew that school was the way, that college was the plan, and that the church was the truest thing ever.

I told Heavenly Father so in my prayers, and I stood up before my congregations to share what I knew, as we all did. Even as I grew older and less certain, I thought that if I spoke loudly enough, if I declared my knowledge often enough, that the absolute certainty would someday return.

But it hasn’t. Certainty has retreated from me, in all things. Certainly my father is smart, but he’s more hard-working. My mother can be sweet, but she’s also tough. My sisters are not mean; actually, I think they’re pretty awesome.

College was, and still is, the plan. And college also taught me the value of acknowledging what I don’t know.

My mother told me a story once, of a teacher, cast as a villain, who insisted that his students answer questions correctly, or else declare “I am ignorant.” Harsh, and certainly unnecessary. I thought then that the word itself was an insult.

But now, today, acknowledging my ignorance is how I propel myself forward. In my 30s, I am certain of my own ignorance and shortcomings, and I find that to be empowering. I don’t know X thing, but I can know it, if I choose to spend time on it.

I didn’t understand coding. I was ignorant, and so I learned.

I am ignorant of so many things. It’s okay to say and acknowledge that. And it’s important for me not to conflate knowledge with belief. I know things that I have learned and been taught thoroughly, have evidence to support, and understand.

I know. Except when I don’t.

I don’t know that the church is the truest thing ever. But I believe that there is good in it. I know that the church has done me some good. I also know that I’ve been hurt there, and continue to be hurt by policies espoused.

It hurt deeply when I realized that what I thought was knowledge was actually belief. I felt like I had been misinformed, led, directed to overstate the truth. This made me very uncomfortable – I felt like I had been lying.

I am very careful in my statements. I work hard to avoid being misunderstood, to make sure that my meaning and intentions are clear. Frankly, that’s a big reason why I’m good at my job.

I want to make sure that my truth is clear, so let me say this: there is a lot that I don’t know. There’s plenty that I believe. I have evidence that aspects of the church have been beneficial to the forming of my character, and I am grateful for that. I can’t, and won’t say that I know or believe everything fully. I won’t overstate my position. I have a testimony of some things, but not all things. And I know now that, for me, testimony is things a choose to believe, not things that I know. And that’s okay.

Amazing Grace

You might have seen this video when it came out a couple of years ago, but it’s one that I’ve come back to again and again when I’m looking for uplifting Sabbath music.  I’ve always loved the hymn, “Amazing Grace,” and wish it were included in our Sabbath hymnals.  But I also love the addition of the chorus:

My chains are gone, I’ve been set free

My God, my Savior has ransomed me

And like a flood, His mercy reigns

Unending love, amazing grace.

It’s a message that I don’t think we emphasize enough in Mormonism, so I’m grateful to have it sung so beautifully by women in a BYU acapella group.  And like a flood, His mercy reigns.  Unending love, amazing grace.

Perfect vs. Enough

[image error]

I don’t like to learn new things. I like to be already good at things. I’d rather leave the page blank than write the wrong thing.

Unfortunately, moving to a new, not majority-English speaking country, kind of requires me to figure out the language. A little less unfortunately, being engaged has meant that I need to communicate new things, and in new ways.

I knew I’d need to enrol in classes to bring my German up to the standard universities require, so I started doing daily practice. Nothing very intense, just through Duolingo and Lingvist, but I learned to enjoy the feeling of my brain stretching. I changed the story I was telling myself from “success means not failing at stuff” to “success means getting consecutive days of practice ticked off”.

That really helped, but when it came time to enrol, I was still intimidated by the placement tests. I took two online, the first of which didn’t give me access to my results, but claimed I was at the third level. The second online test I took showed me how many I got wrong, and I went and had a cry to my fiancé (who reminded me that it’s okay to not already be perfect), and felt like I’d done very poorly, but ultimately also came back with the same recommendation. Because of that, when I went to do a placement test for the local in-person class, I was feeling much more sure of myself, and was calm while I finished as much as I could of the test.

It was more difficult, fill-in-the-gaps style, with a strong focus on grammar, rather than the multiple choice types I’d completed online. They also wanted a paragraph or so introducing myself and why I’m studying German.

When I brought the test back to the receptionist, he asked if I could finish any of the early questions I’d skipped, and said they couldn’t put me past the first module unless I answered all of those. It was very confronting, to be told that the daily practice didn’t really count for much, because it didn’t cover what they test for.

In the end, I found peace about their judgement (partly because the consultant complimented my vocabulary, and explained that their classes are very grammar focussed and build on each other – it makes sense for me to begin at the beginning of something I hadn’t studied with purpose), but it showed me that I still have pretty far before I’ve truly let go of my perfectionism. How funny that it’s something I want to be good at without really learning and failing at first.

It also showed me compassion for people at church, who don’t want to come unstuck by questioning their assumptions about what makes someone a Good Person. If we can be Good by not smoking or drinking, by always covering our garments (and not even being frumpy!), by never being alone with someone of the opposite sex, by paying an honest tithe — if we can tick all the boxes, we can be sure of ourselves, that we’re Good enough to be accepted into heaven.

I totally get it. I have such a long way to go to let go of my perfectionism. But I’m a happier person when I allow myself to fail, and I’m a better disciple of Christ when I turn to Him from a place of humility and openness. I’m going to be wrong so often, but that’s okay. Being a Good Person isn’t what gives me value. The worth of my soul is already great in the sight of the Lord. However much I fail, however often I lose sight of God or myself, however deeply I try to avoid the pain that comes from loving others. I am loved, and Jesus is with me. I am already, and always, enough. And, as my fiancé reminds me pretty often: it’s all gonna be okay.

Family Back-to-school Blessings

[image error]

photo courtesy of ordain women.org

A few weeks ago, as the first day of school approached for my first first-grader, who was going to school for the first time, my husband turned to me one evening and said, “It’s not uncommon in our faith tradition for children to have a blessing before starting the new school year. Should we do that?”

“We should if we do it together.” I replied.

“Well, of course.” he responded. “How should we do it?”

“Let’s tag team. One person starts, the other person adds on, then we end it together.”

We’ve each blessed our children throughout their lives — as babies and toddlers, when they couldn’t sleep, or been sick, or felt afraid, or felt unhappy — but this was the first time we were blessing the same child together at the same time, each with our own unique words.

 

On the evening before school began, we approached our child and asked, “Would you like a special prayer blessing from Mama and Daddy before you start school tomorrow?” After hearing us describe what we were planning to do, he decided he did want it.  We all sat together on our big bed, with my son on my lap, and our pre-schooler and toddler bouncing on the pillows nearby.

My husband and I both put our hands together on our child’s head. Not knowing quite what language would feel the most comfortable, I began the blessing like a prayer to God, referring to my child in the third person as I petitioned God for all the wishes in my mother-heart for my child as he was about to do something new and brave. I prayed for him to be an includer, to have a calm mind for learning, to be creative, to be confident in trying to new things, to give people lots of chances to be his friend, to be kind and show empathy to others. When I had exhausted my list of hopes and wishes for him, I nodded to my husband and he continued with his blessing.  He shifted the language to the first person and addressed his blessing directly to our child.  In that moment, I felt a slight embarrassment in my unfamiliarity with blessing language — I had wanted to address my child directly but didn’t know quite how to start it. Did I have to call him by name and state some sort of authority? I’m his mother who loves him, did I need any more authority to bless and wish goodness on his life than that?

In my mind, a battle ensued: Was it a “Priesthood” blessing because my husband and I hold the Priesthood together, because we were sealed in the temple together? Was is not a “Priesthood” blessing at all, because I have no Priesthood ordination? Did that make it more or less efficacious if so? Did authority need to be stated at all, or could we both just say our blessings from our hearts and God would see our righteous intent as loving parents?

I agree with one of my favorite podcast hosts, Vanessa Zoltan, when she says,

“What I love about blessings is that… I feel like when you bless something you are tapping into your most vulnerable wish for someone and I just think that when you bless something you are admitting you have no power over something but you are hoping with every fiber of your being.”

Just as I was coming to the conclusion that a beautiful blessing from parents to their child needs no categorization or qualifiers, my two younger children quietly and eagerly added their hands to the pile on top of their brother’s head and left them there until the blessing was finished. They all giggled in delight afterward.  The children all said, “me next! me next!” and the next child climbed onto my lap with a smile. My blessing language came much easier the second time, and our two pairs of adult hands were again joined by two pairs of children’s hands.  “Me next, me next!” came the third call, and all of our children were blessed by both parents, with siblings participating with their hands and intent. I believe these three children were blessed by a quartet of parents this night, that the deepest wishes spoken by their earthly parents were in accord with the wishes and blessings from their Heavenly Parents.

Realizing that we weren’t finished for the night, my astute 6-year old declared, “Now Mama blesses Daddy, and Daddy blesses Mama!”  It was obvious to him that everyone should have a blessing that night, and we can all bless each other, of course!  My thoughts went momentarily to the story of Emma Smith wanting a blessing and Joseph telling her to write out her own blessing and that he would sign it. Why not bless everyone around you, and yourself while at it! God is good and generous!

I looked at my husband quizzically. I had never blessed him before.  It was a rare and precious gift to reach deep into my heart and pull out wishes and blessings for my husband, with four sets of hands on his head. In the blessing language, my expressed desires for him to manage his time successfully to allow for work, family, and his own personal creative endeavors didn’t feel like nagging or advice, just what a wife wishes for her husband to be happy and fulfilled.

He in turn gave a blessing to me (with 3 assistants) and mentioned things like: how important it is for me to take time to be involved in good causes outside our family, for clarity in how to improve my business, and words of gratitude for my patience in motherhood.  It was nice to hear what was on his mind and heart for me, too.

When we were all finished, a calm cheerfulness rested in the room.  It felt like a family co-operative; nobody was there on business, nobody cited authority over anyone else. The language was familiar and child-friendly,  and not formulaic or administrative.  In the end, we really all did bless each other, and the peaceful unity in our family that night felt warm and kind.

I think Family Back-to-School Blessings will be a tradition every year.