When I was asked to give a talk about what it means to be a mother on Mother's Day I asked if it was because of Atira. You see, today is my daughter’s birthday and the day I became a mother for the first time 5 years ago. And boy what a journey this has been. As many of you have been here during the journey I want to just highlight a few of the things that this subject means to me.
First of all, it means that you pray in sacrament with one eye open.
It means you find countless tissues disintegrated in every pocket of every skirt, shirt or pant you put through the washer but never seem to have one when they actually sneeze.
It means that even a face smeared with peanut butter, jelly and what you hope is applesauce is still deemed kissable when requested.
It means you get to try to keep from laughing when they pray feverishly to Heavenly Father for “Mommy to give them some more of their Easter candy” in the Morning Prayer.
It means that as good as it feels to cuddle with them on the couch reading books, eventually I have to let them go and make a hot dinner because they already had cereal for one meal that day.
It means that your son’s heartfelt good job (given with two thumbs up) when you announce that dinner is done is all the praise you need to make your heart soar.
It means that when they fall asleep in the car you willingly burn off an extra $10 in gas driving aimlessly just so they have a good nap.
It means that broccoli is going to be the greatest war we will ever wage against our kids.
It means that a boo boo’s location determines if we kiss it or their fore head.
It means that when the ice cream truck rings its bell 10 minutes before dinner, I turn the volume up on the TV and hope they don’t hear it.
It means that when the entire chapel all giggles at someone’s talk during sacrament I am regretfully too busy mediating whose crayon was whose and missed the funny part.
It means that I am learning to temper my justice with mercy and to pick my battles. Especially during sacrament.
It means that I can no longer turn an indifferent eye or ear to the suffering of the world for I now know somewhere someone is living in fear of loosing their child too early.
It also means that while heavenly father has provided the plan of salvation I have to constantly remember to light the path for them. And that while I am new to the path and still find it a bit rocky at times still I know it is the path to joy.
Recently I was introduced to an internet blog or online journal of a mother who has two children. One of which is currently staying at Primary children’s while he is undergoing chemotherapy in an effort to save his tender young body from leukemia. While she stays there day in and day out her husband and other young son come to visit and play in the common areas of the hospital but because of her youngest son’s delicate immune system the two boys can have little to no contact with each other. You can feel in her words the desperation she feels to have her children together in one place so she can love on them both and the way she constantly struggles to decide if she has been neglectful of the older one because of the immense needs of the baby.
I think about how it is to want to be there for two children in two different places. About how there is so much we try to do for our kids but in times like this we are forced to choose where our efforts will be applied.
And I think about the one who is suffering and know that if it were me I would be in that hospital room too because ultimately, we would not want them to suffer alone. Seems like when our babies are sick or hurting is when a mother feels her full force. We learn that strength is not something you have but something you receive. Strength is our calling. Sometimes our strength is stretched so thin we feel like one more little jab and the whole balloon is going to pop. Yet when we are asked to be just a bit stronger or give more than we know we have left in us we still say yes and miraculously we receive just the right amount of what we need to continue to fight.
You see, through Heavenly Father, we have a never ending supply source of wisdom, strength, knowledge, flexibility and soft shoulders. We also need to remember that Heavenly father did not put us on this earth one at a time to endure to the end alone. He has provided us with an amazing support league who know what we are feeling and can empathize with our every struggle. It has a billion members growing strong and they are there to offer a knowing smile and helpful hints as we journey on the path of motherhood.
Whether you are a mother of children who are young, teenagers, grownups, adopted miracles, foster children, children that returned home early, or you have simply been seen as a mother by someone young in your life, you are a part of this movement and you know the goal; To impart our wisdom and the wisdom of heavenly father in hopes of helping them to find the smoothest surface to walk on and to encourage them to stay on the path.
Some days it seems like an uphill battle with little to no ground gained but every so often during our night time prayer I can get them both to cross their arms reverently and bow their heads without being urged to do so. At this point the well of hope and strength is renewed and I know that one day soon I can close both eyes in prayer at church.
First of all, it means that you pray in sacrament with one eye open.
It means you find countless tissues disintegrated in every pocket of every skirt, shirt or pant you put through the washer but never seem to have one when they actually sneeze.
It means that even a face smeared with peanut butter, jelly and what you hope is applesauce is still deemed kissable when requested.
It means you get to try to keep from laughing when they pray feverishly to Heavenly Father for “Mommy to give them some more of their Easter candy” in the Morning Prayer.
It means that as good as it feels to cuddle with them on the couch reading books, eventually I have to let them go and make a hot dinner because they already had cereal for one meal that day.
It means that your son’s heartfelt good job (given with two thumbs up) when you announce that dinner is done is all the praise you need to make your heart soar.
It means that when they fall asleep in the car you willingly burn off an extra $10 in gas driving aimlessly just so they have a good nap.
It means that broccoli is going to be the greatest war we will ever wage against our kids.
It means that a boo boo’s location determines if we kiss it or their fore head.
It means that when the ice cream truck rings its bell 10 minutes before dinner, I turn the volume up on the TV and hope they don’t hear it.
It means that when the entire chapel all giggles at someone’s talk during sacrament I am regretfully too busy mediating whose crayon was whose and missed the funny part.
It means that I am learning to temper my justice with mercy and to pick my battles. Especially during sacrament.
It means that I can no longer turn an indifferent eye or ear to the suffering of the world for I now know somewhere someone is living in fear of loosing their child too early.
It also means that while heavenly father has provided the plan of salvation I have to constantly remember to light the path for them. And that while I am new to the path and still find it a bit rocky at times still I know it is the path to joy.
Recently I was introduced to an internet blog or online journal of a mother who has two children. One of which is currently staying at Primary children’s while he is undergoing chemotherapy in an effort to save his tender young body from leukemia. While she stays there day in and day out her husband and other young son come to visit and play in the common areas of the hospital but because of her youngest son’s delicate immune system the two boys can have little to no contact with each other. You can feel in her words the desperation she feels to have her children together in one place so she can love on them both and the way she constantly struggles to decide if she has been neglectful of the older one because of the immense needs of the baby.
I think about how it is to want to be there for two children in two different places. About how there is so much we try to do for our kids but in times like this we are forced to choose where our efforts will be applied.
And I think about the one who is suffering and know that if it were me I would be in that hospital room too because ultimately, we would not want them to suffer alone. Seems like when our babies are sick or hurting is when a mother feels her full force. We learn that strength is not something you have but something you receive. Strength is our calling. Sometimes our strength is stretched so thin we feel like one more little jab and the whole balloon is going to pop. Yet when we are asked to be just a bit stronger or give more than we know we have left in us we still say yes and miraculously we receive just the right amount of what we need to continue to fight.
You see, through Heavenly Father, we have a never ending supply source of wisdom, strength, knowledge, flexibility and soft shoulders. We also need to remember that Heavenly father did not put us on this earth one at a time to endure to the end alone. He has provided us with an amazing support league who know what we are feeling and can empathize with our every struggle. It has a billion members growing strong and they are there to offer a knowing smile and helpful hints as we journey on the path of motherhood.
Whether you are a mother of children who are young, teenagers, grownups, adopted miracles, foster children, children that returned home early, or you have simply been seen as a mother by someone young in your life, you are a part of this movement and you know the goal; To impart our wisdom and the wisdom of heavenly father in hopes of helping them to find the smoothest surface to walk on and to encourage them to stay on the path.
Some days it seems like an uphill battle with little to no ground gained but every so often during our night time prayer I can get them both to cross their arms reverently and bow their heads without being urged to do so. At this point the well of hope and strength is renewed and I know that one day soon I can close both eyes in prayer at church.
No comments:
Post a Comment