Mother’s day is always bittersweet for me. The sweet parts for me are having Charlie home and not in meetings, getting breakfast in bed, the wonderful handmade gifts and cards my kids always give me, along with the beautiful dandelions they pick for me, and hearing them sing in sacrament meeting. The bitter part for me is almost always the sacrament meeting talks. No offense to those who have spoken on mother’s day in the past, the talks themselves are full of wonderful thoughts about mothers. The problem is that whenever I hear about how perfect and wonderful other mother’s are, I inevitably feel like a failure and realize that I can never measure up. Then I take my beautiful mother’s day plant home and watch it die, which is further proof of my inadequacy.
I think this quote from a talk given by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland sums up my feelings on this matter, “One young mother wrote to me recently that her anxiety tended to come on three fronts. One was that whenever she heard talks on LDS motherhood, she worried because she felt she didn’t measure up or somehow wasn’t going to be equal to the task. Second, she felt like the world expected her to teach her children reading, writing, interior design, Latin, calculus, and the Internet—all before the baby said something terribly ordinary, like ‘goo goo.’ Third, she often felt people were sometimes patronizing, almost always without meaning to be, because the advice she got or even the compliments she received seemed to reflect nothing of the mental investment, the spiritual and emotional exertion, the long-night, long-day, stretched-to-the-limit demands that sometimes are required in trying to be and wanting to be the mother God hopes she will be.”
So today I hope to give a different kind of mother’s day talk. I plan to completely humiliate my mother, by highlighting some of the mistakes that she made. I only do this to acknowledge that, while we are all trying, no mother is perfect, including mine and including me. However, I do find great comfort in this truth. In fact, sometimes when I’m feeling especially bad about my mothering skills, I think of my mom and some the mistakes she made, and this gives me great comfort.
My father was less active for a while when I was a teenager, and so it was left to my mom to get us all ready for church and out the door. I remember one Sunday where my mom had a particularly hard time getting us all out the door. I’m sure that the teenagers were complaining endlessly, and then taking forever to get ready, while the younger kids were probably running around the house acting like monkeys and getting their church clothes dirty; the clothes my mom probably spent all morning picking out and ironing so that they would look nice. Anyway, at some point my mom reached her limit and yelled, “Ok that’s it! I’m done! I’m not doing this anymore! We are not going to church ever again!” That Sunday morning, my mom wanted to give up. I t must have felt like too much for her that day, and she simply couldn't do it. However, my mom did take us to church that Sunday, and the next, and the next. She may have lost her cool for that one moment in time, and she may have even really wanted to give up, but she didn’t. She endured.
I like to think of that moment when I’m getting my kids ready to go to church on Sunday mornings. When I’ve spent the entire morning ironing clothes only to have my boys scrunch them into tiny balls, throw them on the floor, and stomp on them before getting dressed. When I can’t find socks that match or a missing shoe, or when I’m about to walk out the door and I discover someone’s dumped an entire box of cereal on the floor and one of the dogs has puked all over the carpet. I think of that moment with my mom on the Sunday mornings that I feel like throwing my hands up in the air and yelling “That’s it we’re never going to church again!” And what I remember most about that moment is that my mom took us to church that Sunday. But I don’t feel quite so bad for wanting to give up sometimes, because I know that I’m not alone in having those thoughts and feelings. The fact that my mom wasn’t perfect, comforts me, because despite her weaknesses and mistakes, I think I turned out OK in the end, and no matter what, I always knew my mom loved me. It comforts me because it means that there is room for mistakes and doubts.
This quote from Janene Wolsey Baadsgaard, an LDS author who writes about motherhood, further illustrates what I think all mothers experience, she says, “Feelings of perpetual ineptitude are part of being a mother. They start at birth with feeding and sleeping issues then soon grow into discipline and independence issues. Though the challenges change, the feelings of mother incompetence remain constant. We’ve never been the mother of this child at this stage in their development before—and that cycle will continue until the day we die. Yet even if we don’t have all the answers and don’t know just what to do, we’ve made a commitment to be there for our children and care for them forever.
There will be times when our toddler, teen, or married child will come to us with a skinned knee, consequences of poor choices, or a broken heart, and we will not be able to take the pain away. But we can hug each other and cry together. In the end, knowing someone cares is what our children need most.
Maybe we’ll never become a nutrition expert, understand the current discipline techniques, or get over the empty-nest syndromes, but we will always be vital to our child’s sense of security and well-being because together we move from diapers to driver’s licenses to dorm rooms and back to diapers faster than we could ever imagine. We are the one constant in their lives.”
Several years ago I gave a lesson which required me to study Mary, the mother of Jesus. In my studies, I learned some incredible truths about motherhood that always comfort me on mother's day when I start to feel inadequate. Mostly I take comfort in the fact that even the mother of our Savior made mistakes. It briefly mentions one of her mistakes in Luke chapter 2 verses 42-45 where it says, “And when he was twelve years old, they went up to Jerusalem after the custom of the feast. And when they had fulfilled the days, as they returned, the child Jesus tarried behind in Jerusalem; and Joseph and his mother knew not of it. But they, supposing him to have been in the company, went a day’s journey; and they sought him among their kinsfolk and acquaintance. And when they found him not, they turned back again to Jerusalem, seeking him." Mary, probably the most perfect mother who has ever been, left her 12 year old son behind!
This story of Mary reminds me of a time my mom left my younger brother behind when he was about 7 or 8 years old. She had come to pick me up from gymnastics with all of my younger siblings in tow, and when we were all getting in the van she noticed one of my younger brothers had left his jacket inside, so she sent him back in to get it. She must have gotten distracted trying to herd us all into the van and make sure we were all buckled up, because she left before my brother got back. We got all the way back home and were getting ready for bed when my mom noticed that my brother’s chore wasn’t done. She was yelling for him to come finish his chore, when she realized that she had left him at the gym. She quickly drove back to the gym and found him sitting on the curb waiting for her. When she pulled up and apologized to my younger brother, he simply said, “It’s OK, I knew you’d come back for me mommy.” Even though my mom made a mistake by leaving him behind, just like Mary, her love and constancy reassured my brother that she would come back for him. And she did. She always does. I’m pretty sure that Jesus knew Mary would come back for him as well, because the miracle of motherhood is that we don’t have to be perfect. Heavenly Father sent his only begotten Son to a mortal, imperfect mother, so He must have known that imperfect mothering would be enough.
Motherhood is not glamorous or easy. Motherhood is a continual battle with the daily grind of diapers, homework, cleaning, cooking, chauffeuring, cleaning, bickering, teenage angst, curfews, waiting up at night, worrying, and guilt. Motherhood is like riding a rollercoaster and as Janene Baadsgaard puts it, “Once we strap on the belt and that motherhood roller coaster car takes off, we’re in for the whole ride, willing or not. At some point the truth hits: only when we accept, deep down, that we can’t really control everything or anything are we free to embrace the terrifying, wonderful, and exhausting experience. The idea is to hold on tight, take a deep breath, and enjoy the whole wild and unpredictable ride.”
Every day of motherhood may not be the most fulfilling and satisfying, but it is in those every day rushed moments that we learn the most, if we look. As one of my favorite songs about mothers says, “In the meantime she’s a mother, and a daughter, and a wife. Doing all she can to stay above the daily grind. And she wonders when she’ll ever have more meaning in her life. She doesn’t know she’s being molded and refined, in the meantime…And in the meantime she’s an answer and a blessing and a gift, to every empty aching heart that only she can lift. Still she wonders if she’ll ever get to see where heaven is. If she could only see her mansion waiting there. If she could only feel how much her Father cares. She would know she’s being perfectly prepared. In the meantime."
It’s always in the meantime that I learn life’s most important lessons. Like one day when my son Zach was being particularly defiant. He was being particularly argumentative, so in exacerbation I yelled at him. In response Zach said, “Mom, I don’t like you, but I love you” as he stormed off to his room. His simple response reminded me that even though none of us are perfect, we still love each other.
I’d like to end by quoting Janene Baadsgaard again, who said, “Life eventually teaches us what is most meaningful, and what is most meaningful is family. That’s it...The love and service we offer our family is the most important work we will ever do and the best way to find ourselves by losing ourselves. We might get distracted and focus on things that matter less along the way, but ultimately, our greatest joys and sorrows will come from home. So for all of you working hard at the sacred craft of soul care—don’t give up. There is no clear, easy path through the overwhelming and conflicting commitments you have to your husband, children, friends, church, career, and community. Your heartfelt acts of service and small daily efforts do matter. The eyes of God see everything. There is nothing more important to do with our lives than to love someone. Love will never fail us if we keep giving it. Then if we are ever so fortunate to love and be loved—that is heaven.”
I want to thank my mother for being imperfect and making lots of mistakes. I have learned from your mistakes, and I have learned to learn from my mistakes as well. I want to thank you for always loving me even when you didn't like me, and for teaching me to love and be loved. I want to thank you for being the one constant in my life, imperfections and all. I always know you’ll come back for me mommy. I hope that one day my own children will be asked to speak on mother’s day, so that they can stand up at the pulpit and humiliate me by sharing how much they've learned from all my mistakes. And I pray that my own imperfect mothering will be enough for them. Mother's day always reminds me that this task of mothering is stressful, messy, and just plain hard! But when it starts to feel like too much, I get on my knees to pray and cry, and then I get up and go back to the daily grind. May you find comfort on this Mother's days, in the fact that I'm just as imperfect as you.
