To My Mom

Even though my Mother's Day has been filled with thoughts and activities with my own children, I have, of course, been thinking of my Mom.

Blackberry pie still warm from the oven. Too tempting to wait until cooled, we eat it with a spoon. 

Morning pancakes. “Go ahead and have a sixth,” she says without judgment. 

Seminary visuals – my Mom’s handmade signs – the smell of black sharpie. 

Goodnight kiss. Mom wears her blue bathrobe and smells like soap. 

Yellow rubber gloves, a bucket of sudsy water, scrubbing walls.   

A walk down Lilac Avenue at the Boston botanical garden.

My Mom is a woman of faith. When I was in second, third, and forth grade and we lived in Port Angles, Washington, I was vaguely aware of my mom often talking on the phone and being extremely busy Sunday mornings. Looking back and knowing now that she served as Relief Society president during that time, I can imagine the demands and challenges she must have faced. Yet she still kept a clean house, prepared hot breakfasts, ran a preschool in our home, and took care of my sisters and I.  The fact that she accepted and served in this calling during this time in her life testifies to me her faithfulness and love of Heavenly Father.

When I was a teenager and we lived in Cape Cod, Massachusetts, my mom served in the YW stake presidency. I served on the stake youth committee at the same time. So together we planned stake activities, firesides, and youth conference. This required many meetings and many hours on the road to get to those meetings. None of the meetings were close – all meetings required at least a 45 minute drive one way. This meant Mom braved Massachusetts traffic, insane round-abouts, and heavy snow. I remember one Sunday afternoon driving through an East Coast blizzard to a stake meeting. Mom drove behind a large SUV and stayed in its tracks on the treacherous highway. There may have been a swear word or two. But there were also many prayers.

I don’t remember any specific conversations we shared during these long drives. But I remember we talked and talked and talked. I felt such love and companionship with my mom during these years of my life.

This shared time also meant my mom attended ALL of my stake activities. I never felt annoyed or embarrassed; quite the contrary, it was comforting and affirming to have her there. My mom was present for some of the most spiritually significant, testimony-building moments of my life. Together, we attended the conference when Kenneth Cope spoke and sang. We ate with, laughed with, and listened to John Bytheway together when he was the guest speaker. And together, we rode the spiritual high in the days following these conferences and grew in faith together. 

When it comes to church service, my mom is a dependable, dedicated woman. When my mom says “Yes.” She comes through…and then some. She taught me the importance of completing assignments and fulfilling responsibilities. There were mornings when she was up early finishing seminary visuals or planning scripture study activities.

I have never doubted my Mother's faith. I can, like the sons of Heleman, say with certainity. I "do not doubt [my] mother knew it." Alma 56:48.

Of course, there have other wonderful moments too. I loved when my Mom came to visit me in England. We watched "Oliver," took a train to Edinburgh, Scotland, toured a castle, and visited the Wallace Monument. I loved when my Mom came to help me when Madilyn was born. We were such amateurs! One evening, as we sat in the living room watching Madilyn sleep, I remember asking my Mom, "Did you really love me this much?" She responded, "I still do."

Oh these are precious moments. So my dear Mom, thank you for your blackberry pies, your chocolate wheat cookies with frosting, your pancakes, our long runs together, and your willingness to follow me around the world.  But mostly, thank you, Mom, for your example of faith and your endless love. 

Happy Mother's Day.