Curiously, my sisters and I only exchange recipes with a "never-fail" prefix. I have friends who share complicated concoctions of decadent desserts or mouth-watering meals, but we three sisters are rather practical amongst ourselves. We only recommend food that works no matter how many ingredients are omitted, forgotten or doubled on accident.
I don't think we're necessarily terrible cooks, but we definitely respect each other's resources and don't want a minute or an egg wasted.
We all deliver my never-fail pumpkin bread every November to visiting teaching sisters. We serve the same yummy low-risk finger food samplings when hosting a baby shower. On Sundays, I now make my sister's never-fail bread recipe that turns yeast, flour and honey into a hot loaf in record time.
So now that we're all serving in Primary in different states, you can imagine our conversations.
When my sister was called as Primary president, she phoned right away to ask, "What really works in your ward's Primary?" In other words, "What's a no-fail recipe for reverence?" or "What's a no-fail quarterly activity the kids will remember for the rest of their lives?" or "How can I really help the children feel the spirit in Primary?"
She's found great success with her goals in her new calling despite some aspects that might appear as failures — such as the dependability of her teachers. But she's not giving up and is constantly searching and praying for things she can say and do to make Primary successful for everyone involved.
My other sister recently moved to a new home and called one morning on the verge of simultaneous laughter and tears.
"So what calling do you think would be the hardest for me to accept?" she blurted before even saying hello.
Judging by her talents and experience, nothing came to mind quickly until I remembered that she is a self-proclaimed germ-a-phobe.
"Nursery," I finally guessed.
"Yes!" she confirmed. "If they really knew me, I highly doubt they would have given me this calling."
"Now, that's not necessarily so," I tried to say as soothingly as possible. "You might be the perfect person for the job. You'll keep those toys so clean that you might just improve the health of the entire ward by your diligent fight against germs."
She said when the bishop's counselor asked her husband if they could serve together in nursery, his response was, "I don't think you have enough hand sanitizer in the world to get my wife in nursery."
She was the sister who kept her room the most tidy and organized, but it's been her life experiences that have shaped her current obsessions and phobias with germs. She has a newborn baby and an older boy with health concerns. Her unwavering diligence to keep a clean, sanitized home and protect her son from traveling viruses is the main reason he is a happy and healthy 5-year-old today.
"I know I love my kids, I know I love your kids, but I don't know if I can love nursery kids with runny noses," she admit along with other confessions that might hamper her success.
Luckily, the definitions of success and failure often change when you put your shoulder to the wheel.
Some might look at the lives lost on the Mormon pioneer trek west and consider the migration to be a tragic failure, while others esteem it as the greatest modern-day example of sacrifice resulting in success that's influenced generations.
Some might look at my last loaf of Sunday bread as less than perfect with its low rise and split sides, but I still consider the recipe to be no-fail because my family thought it was incredibly edible.
I know our work in nursery, although tiring at times, can be considered miraculously successful or dismally strenuous simply by our perspective. So I'm sure if we share our strategies with my sister, she will succeed in her nursery calling, with or without rubber gloves.