For Mother's Day, I asked my kids to let me get a picture of all of them together. It was mid-day and a bit too bright, even in the shade, but I love how these turned out.
I'm blessed to share my life with such great people!
This week, we celebrate what some of my younger children refer to as "Smother's Day." After the way some of them behaved at Church recently, jostling for the prime position on my lap, breaking my necklace, refusing to attend nursery without me there and then writhing on my lap refusing to engage with the other children for the next hour and a half, I felt just a bit smothered.
My great-grandmother was fond of saying, "Your children are your priceless possessions." She said it often throughout her life. In her later years, as her mind got more and more confused and scattered, this one phrase would stay constant. She said it to everyone multiple times a day, and one day when she said it to me, I heard her daughter and primary care-giver mutter under her breathe in exasperation, "I feel possessed."
Smothered and Possessed. That's the way of life when you're the primary care-taker and nurturer full-time. Tied down. Letting your talents lie dormant and losing yourself and your intellect in the stifling stagnant atmosphere of your own home.
Or so many teach in the world today. Success is measured in wealth, power, and prominence, and choosing to stay at home nurturing children brings none of those things. It is a quiet road with few honors and recognitions.
But it has much to offer, this road. The Savior has taught that the worth of one individual soul is great and His ministry was so often to the one. He has taught that when we minister and help the “least of these” we are really serving him. The truth is, my children are not objects to be possessed, they are souls to be nurtured.
As a mother of nine precious souls, I’ve learned what it is to minister. Each child I have is unique and wonderful and it is a privilege to work in partnership with God to create a home that helps them to reach their very best potential. I am a gardener growing the most precious of plants. It’s not an easy job. The work is tiring, the weeds never-ending, the sun and storms unrelenting at times. Sometimes (ok – often) the call of the work comes in the middle of the night. Hardest of all is that my plants take time to cultivate and on a day-to-day basis, it’s hard to see the progress I’m making. Being a mother is not convenient, it’s not easy, and the call of more prominence or prestige could cause me to neglect these tender plants. But the satisfaction of knowing that God’s hand is in my life, directing my labors and helping me meet the needs of his precious children, is the greatest reward of all.
So I’m happy to accept being smothered and possessed at times. It’s part of the package of being given the greatest job in the world, that of Mother.
As you can see by the ages of my children, I am in the midst of what has been dubbed as "the trenches." I am in the midst of the messy, physically demanding years. From dawn to dusk, and even through the night, I am on call. I am nurturing and teaching. I am fighting off evil that would capture and harm my children. I am a soldier of epic proportions! I am in a war against Satan and the world. This is my stage and my season. I am a warrior!And it just gets better from there!
Even now, time is clearly not our natural dimension. Thus it is that we are never really at home in time. Alternately, we find ourselves impatiently wishing to hasten the passage of time or to hold back the dawn. We can do neither, of course. Whereas the bird is at home in the air, we are clearly not at home in time—because we belong to eternity. Time, as much as any one thing, whispers to us that we are strangers here. If time were natural to us, why is it that we have so many clocks and wear wristwatches? (Neal A. Maxwell, Patience)