Sabbath Day Scribblings - Mothers

  

 Alma 56:47-48

  Now they never had fought, yet they did not fear death; and they did think more upon the liberty of their fathers than they did upon their lives; yea, they had been taught by their mothers, that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them.

 And they rehearsed unto me the words of their mothers, saying: We do not doubt our mothers knew it.

Insignificant

Never think

That what you have to offer

is insignificant.

There will always be

Someone out there

that needs

what you have to give.

Sometimes, it is hard to be a mom.  At least, I have found it so.  Our society today, wants to know what we are, who we are, who we have become.  We get our pride from our accomplishments in life.  We get our sense of self.  Mostly, those accomplishments are based on what the world thinks are good, and bright, and smart and beautiful.  They are not based on what we find within ourselves.  

For a very long time, I thought that motherhood was somehow not living up to my potential.  I always wanted to be a doctor.  I always wanted to help others.  Instead, I married and helped my husband.  I had many children, I worked at pretty mundane jobs.  I have struggled to find the good in myself.  To realize that I am not insignificant to the world.  

I have learned that motherhood is my most important calling on earth.  I have had the experience of touching the souls of God's children.  Of loving them through their trials. Of teaching them that He loves them.  I have learned, that of all my tasks, this one lasts the longest and means the most.  My heart is full as I watch my grandchildren come into this world one at a time.  It is even more full as I watch my children step up and become amazing mothers and fathers.  

I have learned that there are those in life who need exactly what I have to give.  I have never been insignificant.  

“MOTHERS ARE ENDOWED WITH A LOVE THAT IS UNLIKE ANY OTHER LOVE ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH.”  Marjorie Pay Hinckley 

You are a child of God who He entrusted to your mother’s care, her hands substituted for God’s as she bandaged a skinned knee or wiped away your tears. Her words of love and wisdom guided you through rough patches, instilling in you the confidence to succeed. The things she taught you became the lessons you now teach to your own children. 

Being a mother is so much more than a biological process. It’s a heavenly job created by God before this life. In heaven, all of us who live now and all who have ever lived on earth lived with God as His spirit sons and daughters. God has a plan that allows all of us to come to earth, acquire physical bodies, and grow through life’s experiences, eventually returning to Him again after we die.

And I leave with you one of my favorite scriptures in the Book of Mormon.  This is from the story of the 2000 stripling warriors who were taught by their mothers. No matter how much we might think that what we say does not matter, it does. Our children will remember us.  We will never be insignificant.   

Alma 57:21 Yea, and they did obey and observe to perform every word of command with exactness; yea, and even according to their faith it was done unto them; and I did remember the words which they said unto me that their mothers had taught them.

The Perfect Mother

There is no one perfect way

to be a good mother.

Each situation is unique.

Each mother has different challenges,

different skills and abilities,

and certainly, different children....

What matters most is that a mother

loves

her children

deeply.

Elder M. Russel Ballard

For a few days, I want to talk about real mothering.  Not the kind that you think you ought to do, but really, the kind that we all manage to do.  We live in a society that is filled with photoshopped perfection.  Things that seem real but aren't.  Songs that are sung over and over with bits taken here and there until we have what seems like a perfect whole.  

Being a mother is hard.  It is work.  It is joy.  It is rewarding.  It is still so very, very hard.  

There is the fussy times, the whining time, the tantrum times, the teenage times, the moody times, the joyous times, the laughter, the fun, the picnics, the hikes, the playing, the chores, the cleaning, the family.  

Being a perfect mother is a job that lives in our dreams.  We compare ourselves to this woman so much, that we start to believe more and more, how much we are lacking.  The perfect mother is in our heads, and we really need her to step out of there for awhile.  

I am not perfect.  I tried really hard for a long time and failed miserably, but the one area that I think I have succeeded in is that my children know they are loved.  Every single one of them.  They might not understand how much, or what I am willing to go through for them.  They might not know what I have given up and what I have gained because of them.  But every single one of the has no doubt that they have always been loved.  

I remember the moment when they were each put in my arms and I held them and looked into their sweet baby eyes and smelled their hair and counted their fingers and toes.  I remember how much that small little miracle meant to me.  They have grown since them and many have their own miracles.  I love how your heart just opens up to include them right inside.  I love how part of you is always, always with them, even if they don't know it.  

I love my children, in all the amazing, miraculous moments; through all the trials and heartache and the hurt and sad.  We walk together into the love; and that has always been enough for me.  

Crowded in my own mind

The Crowds In My Mind  

by Patricia A. Pitterle

Time does not stand still.

My thoughts crowd with images

Of things past and 

Things to come.

My imagination takes flight

In worry and frustration.

I am exhausted 

And overwhelmed

With yesterday’s to-do list

And today’s need-to get done list.

Everything demands my time

And attention.

Mind racing from one thing

To the next

And round and round again.

Never quite arriving 

at the destination

That I planned on.

Dirty dishes, 

Unswept floors,

Laundry in piles 

Clear ‘till next week

I fight the crowds of "should have's"

inside my brain.

The ones that tell me 

I will never be 

more than this.

I will never be good enough.

I will never become 

Who I should be.

A waking child, 

Her eyes heavy with slumber, 

stumbles into the room 

and pulls herself 

into my lap.

“Grammy, I need to hold you”

I don't need to fight 

the noise anymore.

The crowds will wait 

until another time.

I sweep her tightly

into my arms.

For a moment,

I am exactly 

what I am made to be.

I am a heart to love,

arms to hold

and songs straight from heaven.

To her, I am enough.

She is loved, she is safe,

And we go over the edge,

Blissfully wrapped up together,

Into the oblivion

Of sleep.

Finding Peace

“There is no need to go to India 

or anywhere else 

to find peace. 

You will find that deep place of silence

in your room, 

your garden, 

or even your bathtub.”

~ Elisabeth Kubler-Ross~

I loved this one.  I am finding it to be so true.  A couple of weeks ago, I was privileged to go with two of my daughters to a Time Out For Women event.  It was amazing, inspiring and most of all, fun.  I found peace in a room with 1500 other women.  I found peace in the learning and in my time with my beautiful girls.  

Spending time with adult children is so amazing.  I have been blessed to watch them grow and have children of their own.  I get to see their joys and their trials and their overcoming of the hard parts of life.  

I love being a grandmother to their children, and I love the relationship I have with them now that they are grown.  I have found friendship and advice and love in this opportunity to get to know the adults they have become.

I spent so many years of my life wishing for things to happen.  Wishing that different things would hurry up and come, and that others would hurry up and be over.  I wanted the infant to be older so that I could, at last, get a full nights sleep.  I wanted my first daughter to go to school.  I wanted my son to play football.  I wanted them to hurry through the terrible two's and the treacherous three's.  I wanted them to grow faster, and than to not grow so fast after all.  

Mostly, I wanted them to need me and love me and understand me.  

Now, many years later, I understand the need to enjoy whatever part of life you are in.  Babies do grow, children do change.  The teen years really don't last forever (even though it feels like it!)  When it is over, you look back and it seems to have taken mere moments to pass.  You can't go back and hold your new baby again.  Now they are grown taller than you.  

For me, finding peace is learning to live, forgive, and love right now.  Peace is in knowing if I died today, I would not regret what I did or what I said.  Peace is relying on my Savior in ever single part of my life.  

I am seeking that peace.  Somedays, I even find it.  

Matthew 11:28-3028.  Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.  29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart:  and ye shall find rest unto your souls.30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

Five Minute Friday - What Your Mama Did

Five Minute Friday: What mama did

Today is Five Minute Friday already.  This is where we write just to write and we don't worry about whether it is just right or not.  So, spend five minutes on the topic and than go over to Lisa Jo's and share your link.  You just might find an amazing memory all tucked inside.  In just five minutes. Tell me all about what your mama did that made her yours….

{and don’t forget to spend some time commenting on the post of the person who linked up just before you}

GO:

I wish that I could say that I have millions of memories of my childhood.  But I have shoved them so far into myself that they are nearly impossible to dig up and review.  I have tried because I know that there were many good things about growing up with my family.  I want to share the good with my children so that they could come to understand and appreciate who I am, and who their grandparents are. 
I want them to know a world that was so different than the one they live in today.  A world with Wallace and Ladmo, cartoons on Saturday morning and Dark Shadows each and every day after school.  I want them to know what it was like to play Cowboys and Indians and drink from the mud puddles in the back yard.  We did not have video games or cable TV.  As a matter of fact, the channels turned off at midnight, played the National Anthem and didn't turn back on until six in the morning.   
We grew up in the hot Arizona desert.  The summers could be sweltering, and often were so hot, that if we walked on the pavement in bare feet, we would get blisters.  There was no air conditioning back in our humble apartment.  We only had a swamp cooler that blew air from the ceiling vents throughout the house.  We used to struggle to find the best place in the room where the cool air would blow right on our faces. 
One of my favorite memories of my mom is when she would take out the ironing board every week.  She always ironed her clothes in the summertime with her yellow two piece bathing suit on and her ironing board set up in the sunshine in the middle of the kitchen.  She would sing at the top of her lungs to a tune only she knew.  She used to put her own words to the songs too.  I had to laugh because she never remembered the right words to go with her songs. 
My mom passed away shortly after my last baby was born, but if I close my eyes, I can still go back to that small apartment on a hot summer day and see her there.  Her reddish brown hair curling madly on her head, her tiny body in that bright yellow swim suit, her voice raised in off key tunes and singing the words (according to her memory) right along with Jimmy Dean and Elvis. 
To this day, I can never see a yellow swim suit without remembering that part of my childhood.  The bubbles in the pool outside, climbing the clothesline pole to the roof, having a praying mantis for a pet, running in the gravel across the yard to put callouses on my feet so that they would toughen up and not get burned, and singing with my mom as she made up her own tunes. 

STOP
 

Writer's Workshop - You know you are a mama when.....

Welcome to another fun filled week of writing inspiration!! Pick your poison...
Then, click over to Mama Kat's and post your link.

This Week's Prompts

1. You know you're a mother when...
2. The best gift ever!
3. How has blogging changed for you in the past year? What are your goals for your blog this year?
4. Santa of Christmas Past. Share the previous years Santa photos...what has changed over the years?
5. Put together a holiday outfit you'd love to wear at a holiday party should a holiday party ever be on your list of things to do.

For this workshop, I picked number one.  You know you're a mother when.....

My life has taught me many things, one of the most precious is that of motherhood.  I think that you know you are a mother when... 

You are willing to go without things for yourself, so that your children may have things they need.  

You are willing to go without sleep so that you can rock your little one and calm them in the middle of the night.  

You are drooled on, slobbered on, spit up on, and pooped on and you think that is OK. 

You stop cleaning and sit holding a crying child in your arms until life doesn't hurt quite so much.

You share your drinks, your food, your kisses every single day.  

You forget what it feels like to sleep in a bed all by yourself!

You cook with helpers who spill the flour, break the eggs, and spill the milk all over the kitchen, then they leave you to happily clean up the mess.  

You smile and laugh when you change your baby's dirty diapers.

You realize that every time your child says "mother", they are really saying "I love you".  

You realize that the most important work you will ever do lies within the walls of your own home, and it doesn't matter anymore what anyone else thinks about it.