Quinn's Cookie Exchange

Author Angela Felsted's newest book is called Chaste.  Quinn Walker is the main character, and unusual young man.  Among his peculiarities  Quinn is a young man who knows his way around the kitchen.  We are proud to celebrate the release of this new novel and participate in Quinn's Cookie Exchange.  Here is one of my personal favorites:  (More about Chaste in just a second.)

The recipe sounds weird, but the cookie is scrumptious and one of my all-time favorites!

ITALIAN RICOTTA COOKIES          

2 sticks real butter

2 c. granulated sugar

1/2 tsp. salt

1 lb. Ricotta cheese

2 eggs

1 tsp. vanilla

Grated orange zets from 1 orange

4 1/2 c. flour

1 tsp. baking powder

1 tsp. baking soda

Cream butter; add sugar and continue creaming. Add egg and Ricotta and vanilla; beat well. Sift together flour, baking powder and baking soda, salt; add to batter.

Drop about a teaspoon of dough on ungreased baking sheet. Bake at 350 degree oven about 10 minutes until edges are lightly browned. Cool.

FROSTING:

2 c. confectioner's sugar

1/4 c. butter

3 tbsp. milk

1/2 tsp. vanilla

Mix well and put on top of cookies and sprinkles.

Yield: 5-6 dozen cookies

More about Chaste:
When he steps into his physics class on the first day of senior year, Quinn Walker is too exhausted from staying up all night with his three-month-old nephew to deal with moral dilemmas. As a devout Mormon who has vowed to wait until marriage for sex, the last thing he needs is a very hot and very sexy Katarina Jackson as his physics partner. Regrettably, he has no choice.

Kat feels invisible in her mansion of a home six months after losing her older brother in a fatal car crash and will do anything to get her parents' attention. Since her pastor father has no love for Quinn's "fake" religion and her ex-boyfriend refuses to leave her alone, she makes an impulsive bet with her friends to seduce her holier-than-thou lab partner by Christmas.

Still want more?  Watch the trailer!

Redemption

When I was young, my grandparents home was not overly warm and inviting to many of the grandchildren in my family.  I was one of them.  But my grandparents had a large atlas and I spent hours and hours flipping through the pages, tracing my fingers along rivers and roads I had never seen before.  The maps were my favorite plaything during the times I visited their home in the Ozarks.  Sitting cross-legged in the middle of a circle of trees that my cousins and I nicknamed “the grove” I loved to open up the atlas to states like New Hampshire and Oregon, imagining the names of the people I would meet in towns like Bend and Londonberry.  I faced a stern scolding from my grandmother if I was caught with the atlas outdoors, but it was always worth the risk.  Besides, I knew without a doubt that I would never cause harm to come to the map.  I knew that I was trustworthy even if they did not. 

When we were younger, my older sister and I had a silent pact.  We never got along very well, but we were both soldiers in the same war.  Neither would betray the other.  Although unsaid, we had each other’s back, especially for the sake of our younger brother.  The time came, inevitably, when that changed and I felt the bitter sting of her betrayal.  Once after I had received a severe tongue lashing from my grandmother for using words she felt were too big for me at my age, I sought refuge in the atlas and a quiet corner on the front porch of the house.  My sister knew where I was, and she knew that for once, I had been called to task for my different and quirky ways.  By this time, jealousy and misunderstanding had crept in and clouded the unspoken truce we once shared. 

Knowing I was already down, my sister found my hiding spot and, grabbing the page I was turning ripped down the center of Minnesota.  I sat in disbelief for a moment, staring at her and wondering why she would do that to me.  Her revenge was complete, and as my grandmother stepped through the front door and found me sitting there with the ripped atlas in my hands, every last accusation she had ever thrown at me came true on the spot.  I was not one of her favorites.  I came to realize many years later that she had a special dislike for any of the blond haired girls in the family. 

From that day forward, my place in the family was determined.  My guilt was set in stone.  Though we have spoken very little since the days I stepped out on my own, my grandmother always found a way to preach the gospel of my guilt to me through cards and letters and lectures, even through third parties.  I was never redeemed in her eyes.  I stopped trying.  My grandmother passed away more than two years ago.

Redemption has become a theme in my life, and I never understood how much until my faith compass shattered into a million pieces.  Walking away from the fold  and in front of the faithful masses left me in a state of vulnerability unlike anything I had ever known.  Belonging to the group is safe.  Walking on the outside is dark and cold and lonely. 

For a little while refuge came in the collective anger of others like me.  But that went against my own true nature and I found myself once again on the outside looking in.  For a little while I clung tightly to God and all that I had come to think was wrong with the Mormon worldview, but that soon fell by the wayside, too.  My place in the world was no longer clear.  I was without a map and a grove a trees in which I could hide and find the stillness of refuge.

By now, I honestly thought that this quest would be a thing of the past.  I was wrong.  I still find myself yearning for pearls of redemption.    I face the test of my resolve constantly.  It happened again just the other day, but in the trial  I was handed a gift.  I came face to face with two of my harshest critics; two people that at one time meant the world to me.  I was a guest in their home and had a constant place at their table.  When my faith collapsed that place closed, and so did their hearts.  When met  the familiar coldness was evident with one, but the other of the pair embraced me with opened arms.  My quest has taken me over many miles of rivers and roads to a place where I have begun to understand and accept that my personal values and ethics are okay.  I’m still quite the newbie, but I’m learning, slowly, that living a life in authenticity requires a kind of vulnerability and a ramrod straight backbone.  Maybe it is starting to pay off. That meeting the other day netted two small victories for me.

The first victory came with the bit of respect I received from this former ward member.  My life looked sunny and happy and hopeful to him.  I believe his reaction was sincere and genuine; he seemed glad for me. 

The second victory came more from within.  His companion was nowhere near as warm and gracious, the coldness and rejection were clear.   But I was able to leave the encounter with a smile on my face.  I want the approval; I still seek to remove the scarlet letter from my chest.  Only now, I am learning to weigh the costs against my own integrity.  Words still sting and rejection inspires tears and hurt, but there is a freedom in the acceptance that it is a losing battle.  I am learning to move forward, to move on.  And like the atlas, there are some conclusions cemented in the hearts and minds of others that I will never be able to live down. I might as well walk my own path and be happy with the few who are content to walk alongside me than to wring my hands over those who take exception and offense to the road I am on.  

Q & A With Author Sophia L. Stone, Part 2

Read more of the interview with the author of Mormon Diaries.  Sophia L. Stone discusses her views on religion, and what it would take to make the Church a better place for all.

Q:     If the Mormon leadership acknowledged all your major issues and took active steps

toward reforming the faith in a direction you agreed with, would your doubts remain, or do you think you would be able to find a home again in the church?

If the leadership made the following steps, I might be able to stay and feel comfortable, but not because I believe Joseph Smith was a prophet. My belief in the church as a God-made institution is probably beyond redemption.

•             Stop claiming Mormonism has more truth than other religions.

•             Recognize baptisms performed by other Christian religions.

•             Ordain women to the priesthood and give them the same opportunities as men.

•             Stop trying to canonize rigid gender roles.

•             Marry same-sex couples in the temple.

•             Allow family members to see their loved ones get married in the temple regardless of

      their standing in the church.

•             Stop requiring people to pay a full tithe to enter the temple.

•             Stop canceling the baptisms and sealings of those who resign or are excommunicated from the church.

•             Get rid of the endowment ceremony or (at the very least) admit openly that it doesn't go back to the time of Solomon.

Q:     Who should read your book?

Anyone who wants to better understand how religions indoctrinate children, how they can unite and separate families, how they can bring peace and turmoil at the same time. Anyone who wants a more personal understanding of how it feels to grow up in a legalistic religion that values trust and obedience more highly than free thought, or anyone who wants to understand Mormonism.

Please don’t misread that to mean my book is factually perfect. It’s not. It is based on my experience, and everyone’s reality is different. But I stand by my claim that people who leave Mormonism are often in an isolating place. It’s hard for an orthodox believer to understand why anyone would leave. It’s hard for those who’ve never been in a fundamentalist religion to understand why leaving one is such a big deal. To both these groups, I’d say, “please read this!” Understanding is vital.

Q:       What do you hope for people who read your book? For non-Mormons, what would

 you like them to take away from it?

For non-Mormons, I'd like an increase of understanding for those who are in the faith. With Mitt Romney in the spotlight lately, I think Mormons have been held up to a lot of ridicule. To an outsider, looking in, there are just so many strange beliefs that make people scratch their heads--aspiring to godhood, wearing sacred underwear, believing in a planet called Kolob. How can anyone believe this stuff? It just seems incomprehensible. I mean, Richard Dawkins has been calling Romney an idiot for weeks just because he believes this stuff, and Richard Dawkins is an intelligent man. At least, I thought he was an intelligent man . . .

Does Dawkins not realize that if every important person in a child's life tells him that purple is actually green from birth until death, the child will have no reason to believe otherwise? Does Dawkins not realize that if you send that child on a mission, make him knock on doors for two years with limited contact from his family in an effort to convince the world that purple is actually green, that he will become more entrenched in that idea? Does Dawkins not realize that any belief, no matter how bizarre it is to the mainstream, can seem perfectly reasonable if it's embraced by nearly every significant influence around you?



Sophia L. Stone is the author of Mormon Diaries. She's a seeker, learner, reader, and nature Lover. If you're on twitter, you can ask her any question about Mormonism @ask_a_mormon