Giving
Ourselves Credit
One of the best sermons I've ever come across for mothers is based on some Bible verses in Matthew 25. When the Lord says, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me" (vs. 40), most mothers are famous for saying, "Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, and fed thee? Or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? Or naked, and clothed thee? Or when saw we thee sick, . . . and came unto thee?' (Matthew 25: 37-39) Yet who does all those things more consistently than mothers? They patiently give food to their hungry children--many times a day. They give them water when they are thirsty, and clothe them when they are naked--which is much more often than at bath-time for many little ones! They nurse their children through endless nights of illness, and come to them, "visit" them constantly to fill their every need. Yet mothers tend to say, "that doesn't count" and feel they are not doing their part when they have little time left to serve outside the home. All of us as mothers need to give ourselves more credit, allow ourselves to feel the Savior's appreciation for our service to his little ones.
There
is so much to learn from the words, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto
one of the least of these . . .Ye have done it unto me.” No mother can
tenderly nurture her baby, or do her best to comfort an older child
without meriting the Savior’s love for doing what He would do if He
were present. When we care for our children to the very best of our
ability, we are caring for Him.
I,
Too, Am “One of the Least of These”
There
is another application of this scripture I want to talk about. I’ve
often been much better at feeding, comforting, and caring for my children
and others than I have myself. I’ve often been kinder, more forgiving,
more understanding of others than I have myself.
I had to think long and hard about how I treated myself when
I realized one day that I, too, am “one of the least of these.” Inasmuch
as I do it to myself, I do it to the Savior. What a sobering
thought--one that has motivated me to consider a wiser, more loving
approach to myself.
So,
for this Mother’s Day, I’m honoring me, being kinder to me, remembering
how much I have always loved my children and how much I enjoyed each
one, treasuring each day when they were tiny. I’m reminding myself that
all through the years of raising them I did the very best I could with
what I knew and understood at the moment. Not one day did I ever get
up in the morning and say, “I think I will be a terrible mother today
and cause irreparable damage to my children’s psyches.” Not one time
did I on purpose do anything to hurt one of my children. Any
way I failed my children was certainly not intentional, and I would
wager I’m in good company.
A
Gift for Myself
So,
for Mother’s Day this year I bought myself a Thomas Kinkade book called
“The Home You Made for Me: Celebrating a Mother’s Love.”
The book contains many of Kinkade’s beautiful light-filled pictures
along with lovely quotes about childhood and mothers. I’m thinking of
my own mother, and myself in my best moments, and reading every one
of the thoughts with appreciation and love, not guilt and regret. The
book includes pages meant for a grown child to write tributes to his
or her mother. Pages such as One of my happiest memories of you is
. . . or You made our home special because . . . or Special memories of our times together . . .
or These ares some of the things you taught me that I hope to pass
on to my children . . . I’m
writing on these pages for myself.
I’m remembering the good parts of my mother’s example
(she passed away several years ago) and writing tributes to her,
but I’m not forgetting to write tributes to me too.
When it comes right down to it, how I feel about myself is
far more important to my well-being than how anyone else feels about
me.
Accentuating
the Positive
I’m
come to realize that every mother falls short of giving her children
everything they need; after all, only the Savior even knows what that
“everything”is! But we usually fall short only because we don’t know
better, not because we didn’t put our whole hearts into trying. So I’m
writing about the hours I read to my children and sang to them, about
my desire to teach them the gospel, about the scripture story tapes
and songs they heard as they drifted off to sleep night after night.
Instead
of lamenting my failure to accomplish regular family prayer I’m writing
about the tradition I had of putting my arms around each child separately
and praying for them before they went out the door in the morning.
Instead of remembering the vacations we couldn’t afford, I’m
writing about the “special times” when I gave each child in turn an
afternoon with Mom alone--cavorting in the park, going out for hamburgers,
feeding the pigeons and the ducks, doing whatever they wanted to do.
Instead of worrying about all the noisy, disorderly years when
the house was full of growing boys, I’m remembering that the kids felt
free to bring their friends home, that they were the first in the neighborhood
to have a computer, so all the kids “hung out” at our house and I always
knew where my kids were. I’m thinking about the canyon outings I took
them on, and later, the campouts. One time when I was the only adult camping with
all five of my boys and two neighbor boys, the Scoutmaster said he was
about to recruit me!
Instead
of worrying that I didn’t create the “perfect” home for my children
and didn’t show them an example of a “perfect” marriage, I’m remembering
how totally I’ve always loved them, how I would have (and still would)
do anything in the world for their well-being, how I could look in any
son’s eyes and say honestly, “I want you to know that I will always
love you--no matter what!”
This
Mother’s Day I’m going to rejoice over the good memories, and I’m going
to love myself a little better for how very much I always wanted to
do right by my children. By being a little nicer to myself, I hope to
give the Savior more reason to rejoice too.
***
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