Category: Faith

For me, finding fulfillment in motherhood is often tied to my faith, which promotes families and mothers.

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Random Faith

Freedom

This week, Ryan and I attended an awards gala for four Americans who have “fought for freedom with words or ideas.”

Mona Kashani Heern was born in Iran. After the 1979 revolution, she and her sister were expelled from school because of their Bahá’í beliefs. Their father was later jailed for the same reason. After months of waiting in the snow for hours to spend ten minutes with him once a month, they found out he’d been executed. Eventually, her mother smuggled their family into Pakistan, where they lived in jail until they gained refugee status. They later emigrated to Germany, where Mona and her sister had to learn German, English and French in order to graduate high school. Finally, they moved to the US.

Despite the persecution and hardship she’d endured, a prevailing theme in Mrs. Heern’s acceptance speech was the love and kindness that she’d experienced even in the worst, most oppressive circumstances. As a junior high English teacher, she has a passion for sharing her story with her students so that we Americans understand the privileges of freedom that we enjoy (and take for granted).

Sgt. Merlin German, another recipient, served our country in Iraq, participating in over 150 successful missions. When an IED exploded and knocked him from his Humvee turret, he was burned over 97% of his body and given no chance of survival. He defied doctors and not only survived, but relearned to breathe on his own, talk and even walk.

Concerned about burn victims who couldn’t afford the costly treatments, Sgt. German started Merlin’s Miracles. The foundation has helped thousands of burn victims pay for surgeries, compression garments and hospital stays. During a routine surgery last spring, Sgt. German passed away. His legacy lives on through the hundreds of doctors and patients he personally touched and his charitable foundation.

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President Boyd K. Packer was the final honoree. He longed to become a pilot like his older brother. He promised God that he would devote his life to His service if he could live that dream. President Packer spent forty months in the Air Force during World War II.

Less than two decades after the end of the war, the Lord called President Packer’s promise due. Packer was called to be an assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, then to a member of the Quorum. Since then, he has devoted nearly forty years of his life in the full-time employment as an Apostle in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. His ministry has included service all over the world. He is now the President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, the second most senior apostle.

The first award recipient, Neil Holbrook, was one of the original eight Navy “Frogmen,” the predecessor of the SEALs. In his acceptance speech, he told of a friend who was standing next to him on deck when his friend was shot. They both fell to the deck and his friend struggled to say something, but died before he could speak. Holbrook has spent six decades wondering what his friend would have said.

I’m passing the torch to the future generations. Please take care of that Constitution that I can’t enjoy. … I don’t have the liberty to go home.

When we thanked him for his service afterward, Mr. Holbrook said he would do it again tomorrow for people like us.

To honor the sacrifice of so many people this independence day, we have to remember what they were fighting for. We have to remember that the freedoms we enjoy in this country are privileges that not everyone has. We cannot forget those founding freedoms, and sometimes we have to fight with words or with weapons to keep them, at home and abroad.

Please remember this today as you celebrate Independence Day—and tomorrow, and afterward.

Newspaper coverage of the award ceremony with brief bios

Photo by Benjamin Earwicker

Categories
Fulfillment Faith

You are true nobility

knightly_helmetAs I pondered a title for this post, I thought I should come up with a definition of nobility—and the first thing that popped into my head was that nobility is the opposite of playing the martyr.

I think if any of us had to draw a picture of nobility, we would show someone with their head held high. We think of knights and soldiers in acts of bravery; we think of true martyrs who sacrificed all that they had, even their lives, for their faith; we think of true saints who dedicated their living hours to those around them.

We don’t think of mothers. (Remember? Most moms are the bad kind of martyrs.)

This is especially interesting in light of the quotation that inspired this post:

The noblest calling in the world is motherhood. True motherhood is the most beautiful of all arts, the greatest of all professions. She who can paint a masterpiece, or who can write a book that will influence millions, deserves the admiration and plaudits of mankind; but she who rears successfully a family of healthy, beautiful sons and daughters, whose immortal souls will exert an influence throughout the ages long after paintings shall have faded, and books and statues shall have decayed or have been destroyed, deserves the highest honor that man can give, and the choicest blessings of God.

—David O. McKay in Pathways to Happiness

Being a mother is the most important thing we can do. On this note, I do want to note that most of us are doing well at the most beautiful of all arts, the greatest of all professions. This doesn’t mean we have our families on home-grown organic raw-food vegetarian diets that we spend six hours a day planning, preparing and tending (the garden). It doesn’t mean we have our children in every single conceivable extracurricular from archery to zoobotany club. It doesn’t mean we subjugate our every desire to every whim of our children’s.

It means, as Jane put it so well today, that:

being a good mother takes two things: 1) the desire to be a good mother. . . . And 2) the will to do those things that she determines to be important for the well-being of her children. Even those that require sacrifice, change of habit, or a lot of w-o-r-k.

And that work—as deeply challenging as it sometimes feels—is a beautiful art that, no matter what else I write or do or say, will be my magnum opus.

What do you think? Will your profession as a mother be your magnum opus? How do you strive to perfect your motherly art? Are you a “good” mother?

Photo by salssa

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Faith

Happy Easter

Enjoy the holiday today. We’re trying to focus on the real reason for this Easter season (though, don’t worry, we have candy). This message was shared by an apostle last Sunday in the semi-annual worldwide conference of the church and I simply cannot say it better than this special witness of Christ.

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Fulfillment Faith

Being a mother is important

Okay, I know, it’s kind of a “duh.” I mean, without our mothers, where would any of us be? Not here, I’ll tell you that 😉 .

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My mother on Rebecca’s birthday

But other than that whole biological necessity thing, mothers are important—and not just to make sure that everyone is fed, rested, at school on time, and not without clean underwear.

In a couple minutes, I found a number of scientific studies confirming just how influential mothers are:

It’s easy to look around at the mountain of laundry, the mound of dirty dishes, the teenager’s filthy room we told her to clean fifteen times, the full plate of food the toddler refused to eat, and the grade schooler’s last-minute order of three dozen cupcakes for a class party tomorrow and feel like we’re not important—as if we don’t matter. Yes, being a mother does involve a lot—a lot—of grunt work.

stepping_stonesBut every once in a while, at least, we need to remember that motherhood is more than chores.

Motherhood is eternally important.

Motherhood is important because being a mother means teaching and guiding future generations. We do make a difference—they do understand and internalize the principles we try so hard to teach them—and they will be better for our efforts.

Why do you think being a mother is important?

Categories
Fulfillment Faith

The bitter and the sweet

The Write-Away Contest hosted by ScribbitThe stereotypical image of the forbidden fruit of the Garden of Eden is an apple. I must respectfully dissent from popular opinion here—if I had to choose a modern fruit to grow on the tree of knowledge of good and evil, I’d have to go with the plum.

It’s nothing personal against the fruit; I love plums. I love them so much that I buy them and eat them and enjoy them despite what I’ve long viewed as the fruit’s inherent flaw: the skin. Aubergine or carmine or ultramarine, smooth and cool, the skin of the plum holds the promise of its sweet flesh—but with a price.

When I eat a plum, the first bite follows a silent crescendo of anxious anticipation. As my teeth break that skin, I know that I will soon be enjoying the sweet buff- or burgundy-colored flesh of the plum, one of my favorite fruits. But as that sweet juice hits my tongue, it is immediately mingled with the tart tang of the plum’s skin.

Sometimes, I think of motherhood like a plum. I look at where I am in life, and I know that motherhood is my calling—and I couldn’t imagine giving up my sweet children. But at the same time, I have won that love for my children with a price that at the time felt bitter.

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I recently visited a friend, a first-time mom with a seven-week-old. I try to be cautious when talking to new moms; I can never tell if they’re one of the breed of mothers alien to me—they take to that newborn stage with glee, seeming to revel in the sleepless nights, the endless cycle of feedings, the near-loss of self.

My friend was more like me. “How could someone say they love being a mother?” my friend wondered aloud. “How could someone ever find this fulfilling?”

I knew how she felt all too well. When I first became a mother, the initial overwhelming surge of needs, lack of response and feelings of both boredom and inadequacy floored me—motherhood floored me. For weeks, it seemed, the first taste of motherhood, like the first taste of a plum, brought me gall.

I’ve often contemplated peeling a plum before eating it, just to avoid its bitter flavor. But I just know that no matter how sharp my knife, I’ll end up losing a lot of the already-limited sweet flesh if I try to take off that tart outer covering.

It was months before I finally began to taste the sweet of motherhood. It started small—very small—with the first grins. The way his eyes lit up when he saw my face. His laughter. Motherhood was still demanding, and it still is, but the smiles, the giggles, and the spontaneous “I love yous” give glimpses of the sweet dividends I anticipate.

In life, there will always be the bitter. Though I don’t dwell on it as much anymore, adjusting to motherhood will probably always be one of those experiences for me whenever I do look back on it. But, like the plum, there is so much more sweet than the bitter in motherhood—and without that bitter skin, I don’t know if I’d ever really come to value the sweet.

If I had to pick a fruit to make one wise, to know good and evil, it would be the plum. It’s only in seeing the contrast that we really come to know the good and the evil, the bitter and the sweet.

References: Genesis 2 and 3

Part of the March Write-Away Contest at Scribbit

Categories
Fulfillment Faith

Negativity kills

They say that one of the most important things you need in a survival situation is PMA: a positive mental attitude. A self-defeating outlook is, well, self-defeating. If you don’t think you can build a shelter, it’ll only make it harder to build a shelter. On the other hand, if you believe you can build a shelter, even if you don’t really know how, at least you’re not adding more obstacles to your path. Blueprint. Whatever.

I’ve been in a pretty negative mood lately. Rebecca is teething—and this is way harder than it was for Hayden. (Think near-constant holding, squirming, nursing and interrupted sleep just weeks after we finally got her sleeping through the night.) Hayden, meanwhile, has developed a disturbing inability to sleep at night, too, but his waking is without apparent cause. Oh, and have I mentioned how much worse three has been than two so far?

My outlook has grown steadily gloomier. I began feeling my children and my life were completely out of control, mostly because I was obviously an inadequate mother. What else could explain the constant tantrums, child-juggling (and disappointing) and general overwhelmed-ness?

By Monday, I was walking in a no-sleep-constant-screaming-from-one-of-the-three-of-us haze. I was too down to care about needing a shower or the chest-high pile of laundry spilling off the couch (at least it was clean) or dinner or grocery shopping or anything else. I didn’t care if I slept, since I figured I wouldn’t.

And then Tuesday came (AKA today). In my feed reader, I came across an article on negativity and perfectionism. Sometimes the good is the enemy of the best, when we while away our days with good things but not essential things. But sometimes the perfect is the enemy of the good.

As mothers, we don’t have to be perfect all at once. I believe that our lives on Earth are a journey, progressing towards (eventual, heavenly) perfection. God doesn’t ask us to make ourselves perfect overnight, or even all by ourselves. Even if you don’t subscribe to my church, I think everybody is trying a little harder to be a little better.

Sometimes we hold ourselves back from that progress by holding up a “perfect mother” (real or imaginary) as the standard, one that we’ll never measure up to. And because we don’t measure up, we beat ourselves up. But really, that attitude only defeats us before we’ve even begun to try. It doesn’t help anything to put myself down, so this morning, I rubbed the sleep from my bleary eyes and smiled at my (constantly) nursing baby.

Though I didn’t think about this at the time, I see now that this morning, I chose happiness.

Today wasn’t perfect, but it was a heck of a lot better than yesterday. And when it comes down to it, I think that general upward trend is good enough.