For most people, May 14, 1980 was just another day. But for me, it was the day I was born to the best mother in the world. Really, though, I think my mom should have won an award for what it took to get me here. Cue the morning sickness, aversion to smells (including the house she lived in), lots of puking, along with all the other joys of pregnancy. Add to that an almost 3-day labor (literally), followed by a lot of pushing, followed--at long last--by a c-section. Really, now. Where is the fun in that? But my mom did it willingly. And most surprisingly of all, she did it three more times after having me, by then knowing full well what she was getting into. She did all this while finishing her bachelor's degree, working a part-time job for a while, and supporting my dad while he also finished college and began his accounting career.
My mom is the kind of mom who doesn't call attention to herself. She quietly goes about her everyday life, without fanfare and without show. In fact, a lot that she does goes unnoticed because she doesn't call attention to it. She makes mothering seem much easier than it really is.
She instilled in me a love of reading and learning. She read, re-read and then read again the same bedtime stories over and over again. She read to me at night, even when I'm sure she'd have liked nothing more than some peace and quiet after I was asleep. She let me read about as much as I wanted, even though it meant my utter absorption in that book to the exclusion of all else, chores or conversation included. She encouraged me to do my best in school. She let me try almost every extracurricular activity that I wanted to, to see what things I loved and what things I didn't. I took tennis lessons, piano lessons, gymnastics, went to computer camp, band camp and probably a hundred other things here or there. Some of those things I enjoy to this day and others I hated with a passion, but am still grateful for the opportunity she gave me to try them.
And throughout all this, she taught me about who I really am. She taught me about Heavenly Father, about my purpose here on earth, about right from wrong and about the gospel that I hold so dear today. The first memory I have of feeling the Spirit was sitting at her knees. Her dad, my grandfather, had passed away when I was only two, and this particular time she was sharing her testimony of the plan of salvation and how she knew that she would see her Dad again. Then she played the song, "I Feel My Savior's Love", a song that had been sung at his funeral, on an old tape recorder. And I knew that she knew it was true and so did I. She encouraged my growing testimony and helped me choose the right. Even though sometimes I might have rolled my eyes at something she said or did or given a sassy reply to something important she said, I was listening and it helped shape my life then and now.
My mom encouraged my siblings and I to love each other and look out for one another. She created strong family ties and bonds between each of us. I always knew that family was something I could count on. Now that we're getting older, my brothers are my friends and my support system. I always knew my parents loved me and that they were proud of me. I knew that no matter what other people accomplished, they thought what I did was great and wonderful and that I did the most amazing things that had ever been done. I was good enough just the way I was. In fact I was great. :)
My sister-in-law posted this quote on her blog the other day that describes my mom perfectly.
Thank heaven for women of faith in our lives. A woman of faith loves the Lord. She wants Him to know it by the life she lives, by the words she speaks, by the service she renders to His children, by her every action. She knows that He loves her even though she is imperfect and still trying to be better. She knows that when she does her very best, that it is enough, as President Hinckley has told us. ~Margaret D. Nadauld
Only I'm not sure that she knows that what she has done for me and my brothers enough--its better than enough. In fact, its nothing short of miraculous. I know that even more clearly now that I have my own children and try to be a good mother to them. So many times I fall short of where I want to be and I hope and pray that they will be kind and forgiving of the places I don't measure up and know that I'm doing my best and keep trying to be better. I know my mom wasn't perfect, because no mother can be. But she's perfect enough. When I think of all the many things she accomplished in her life, her real legacy is through the lives of her children--the children she sacrificed so much of herself to raise. But it hasn't gone unnoticed--not to us children who benefited from her goodness, and not to the many future generations of children who will be blessed because of who she is and what she stands for.
So Happy Mother's Day, Mama. Even if it is almost a week late. I would have written it sooner, but I was busy being a Mom. I love you!
