Happy Mothers Day!

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!

Moms are in a unique position to affect the future, through their influence with children.

Dads do mean a lot as well, and parents should work together, but mom sets the stage for future years.

So it was with me and my mom. I grew up in a home with six sisters, two brothers, a a gang of assorted others from time to time.

Family units, with mother and dad are integral to the foundation of the Church. In fact some pertinent counsel is formally declared in Church Doctrine – The Proclamation on the Family

HUSBAND AND WIFE have a solemn responsibility to love and care for each other and for their children.  Parents have a sacred duty to rear their children in love and righteousness, to provide for their physical and spiritual needs, and to teach them to love and serve one another, observe the commandments of God, and be law-abiding citizens wherever they live….
Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children. In these sacred responsibilities, fathers and mothers are obligated to help one another as equal partners….
THE FIRST COMMANDMENT that God gave to Adam and Eve pertained to their potential for parenthood as husband and wife...

My mom fulfilled this responsibility as fully as any mother could. 

I’m thinking of all the things for which moms are an example for us…

She created my life…

She gave me her love…

She is my teacher…

She is my therapist when I am troubled…

She ministers when I am in need…

She cares for me when I am sick…

She gives me hope that I can survive through life’s hardships…

She taught me about spirituality…

She taught me reverence for sacred things...

She taught me to pray...

She is my mom. All these things and many more…

Mothers inherit the grand tradition of Eve, the mother of all the human family, the one who understood that she and Adam had to fall in order that “men [and women] might be” and that there would be joy. Yours is the grand tradition of Sarah and Rebekah and Rachel, without whom there could not have been those magnificent patriarchal promises to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob which bless us all. Yours is the grand tradition of mothers and grandmothers, and the mothers of the 2,000 stripling warriors. Yours is the grand tradition of Mary, chosen and foreordained from before this world was, to conceive, carry, and bear the Son of God Himself. We thank all of you, including our own mothers, and tell you there is nothing more important in this world than participating so directly in the work and glory of God, in bringing to pass the mortality and earthly life of His daughters and sons, so that immortality and eternal life can come in those celestial realms on high. (Elder Holland)

When I was growing up, we had a big house with plenty of room for our growing family.

When we were very little, she would come and read stories to us at bed time.

We had closet doors in our bedrooms that were chalkboards, and way before any schoolteachers taught me to read and write, my mother taught me at home.

In fact, when I started first grade in elementary school, this was the source of all kinds of misunderstanding and unhappiness. The teacher could not believe I already knew the first-grade basics. He insisted that I should participate in group activities with the other children.  Before I could understand that different people have different talents at different stages, I was impatient with those who made so laborious things that came so easy to me.  I suspected that some of the kids in our group activities were playing dumb, just to irritate me. 

As I learned to pay better attention, I noticed that my mother had limitless patience with guests in our home, she set a good example for us.

Among so many other things, my mom had an exceptional musical talent. I didn’t inherit any particular talent myself, but I came to appreciate good music, after so much exposure to it.  I recall many musical performances in which she was featured or took part, in groups like the Southern California Mormon Choir, in places like the Hollywood Bowl, and the Chandler Pavilion for Performing Arts in  Los Angeles.

Not to say I was a perfect little boy that never had any conflicts at home.  I have a snapshot of myself from 1956, at our brand new home in Manhattan Beach.  It was not yet landscaped, and it featured a large and deep mud puddle in the back yard. The photo shows me proudly standing in the middle, wearing yellow fuzzy footy pajamas, padding trough the muddy swamp.  I thought it was a fine swimming pool, those antics perhaps in part responsible for my later enthusiasm for swimming. I could not understand why she was so upset about the mud and mess...

But as I said, I was not always involved in such trivial incidents, notwithstanding my mothers teaching.  I remember one particularly acrimonious exchange.. around twelve years old, after which I decided I must run away from home. I grabbed a few provisions, wrote a heartfelt note announcing my intention - it  featured  a bleeding heart that was pierced by a couple of arrows - and I pedaled away on my bike, resolved to never return. I ended up at the playground of the local grade school, riding my bike with some friends. Subsequently I had a disastrous crashing of my bike while climbing up some dirt hills, and tearfully marched home to display my pitiful wounds - to my mother, of course. Who else would wash away the blood and tears, and put on band aids?

One of the occasions that stands out in my memory involved my taking some things that were my mothers property, to sell them.  I used my ill-gotten gains to buy cheap toys.  When she found out about my misdeeds, she let me know she was really disappointed.  It made such a deep impression on me that I was never again tempted to steal.

On many other occasions I was better-behaved, and we had many fun times together.  We took lots of “field trips” with my mom,  exploring places like the nearby tidal pools, several museums and garden areas around Los Angeles and San Diego.  She encouraged us to participate in planting and keeping a backyard garden. We became well acquainted with the local nursery grower, and my mom always gave the birthday gift of one tree to plant.  Our yard was a showplace for flowers and fruit trees.  I’ve never had better peaches than those from our back yard.

We also had a collection of farmyard pets to learn to take care of – ducks and chickens, pigeons, and rabbits, dogs and cats.

Well, I do recognize that some of us, for one reason or another, grow up without our mother’s guiding care. I am sure that throughout our lives we frequently borrow from other moms, because like my mom, many seem to have the capacity to spread out their love inclusively, to a  circle with more than the local family.

My mom is like that. Though my family made a pretty substantial group, we always had more – sometimes many more - that were welcomed around our dinner table.  She hosted a Cub Scout den for a number of years.  And served in numerous other Church callings.

Well, my mom is eighty six now, and we seldom have the excitement and misadventures I so enjoyed growing up.  But she still makes an effort to express love for everyone. And is still my most effective therapist.

On one recent occasion, she was sitting in the foyer during church.  She noticed one very little boy acting out, so she captured him with a big hug and held  quiet him on her lap.  He was suddenly still,  gazing up into her grandma smile, and he asked her, “How did you get those cracks in your face?”  She really DID crack up over that!

I send roses to her on Mothers Day as a token of my love, recognizing I can never repay all that I have enjoyed or been blessed with, because of her.