Exhibit One is a nice pencil drawing by Trenton with exceptional shading and details.
Exhibit Two was drawn by Holden, who used pastels to show the amazing flexibility of my joints and a really nice hair cut.
Exhibit Three is McKay's masterpiece. This creation came on a day when his affection for me was lost in parental guidance. The composition leaves no room for the imagination.
I don't blame McKay though. Sometimes that showpiece is how I feel. Mothering is tiring.
Elder Brian Taylor spoke to diligent moms and said this: "To mothers, especially young mothers, who often feel overwhelmed and underwater while striving to raise “a sin-resistant generation,” never underestimate your central role in God’s plan. In stressful moments...know that God sanctifies your most difficult days." ("Am I A Child of God?", Brian Taylor, GC April 2018)
And here is an oldie but goodie from Elder Holland: "I especially wish to praise and encourage young mothers. The work of a mother is hard, too often unheralded work...Through these years, mothers go longer on less sleep and give more to others with less personal renewal for themselves than any other group I know at any other time in life." ("Because She is a Mother", Elder Holland, April GC 1997)
Well, now I am an old mother, and I am still tired. I must be on the romantic side of the fence with a dim memory because these days I find myself glamorizing spilled boxes of crayons and dissembled Tupperware cupboards. Babies and toddlers bring the physical fatigue of days of chores and nights of newborns and toddlers. An old mom has to be smart, decipher baffling complexity, have the right words, and be patient and loving with tricky situations and interactions. And I still don't get enough sleep. There are some moments, or days, or seasons that require significant self-care, or as I like to say, "Pastry Therapy". You know the kind. For me it looks like a Rick's Bakery chocolate bar, stuffed full of cherries. I'm not saying that that was what Elder Taylor was calling "sanctifying", but it tastes pretty therapeutic. Even temporarily curative.
This fatigue is rightfully earned by persistent effort, and probably deserves a great big trophy and a tiara of diamond gems. We should wear them like a prizefighter boasts his championship belt buckle. Listen to this from a presidential speech by Theodore Roosevelt: "The credit (for the doing of great deeds) belongs to the one who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends themself in a worthy cause..." (" The Man in the Arena", Theodore Roosevelt, Excerpt from the speech "Citizenship In A Republic" delivered at the Sorbonne, in Paris, France on 23 April, 1910)
Applied to mothering, the trench work may leave us a little "marred by dust and sweat and blood"-- feeling kinda beat up. But we champion on with "deeds", "great enthusiasm", and most importantly, "great devotions". We are still in the arena! And that staying-power exposes our maternal superpower-- a mother is the one who stays in the game.
This stamina is important because children need second and third and fourth and fifth chances. They need predictable stability. There may be seasons, sometimes harsh like a long Minnesota winter, where you will feel worn out by the profession. But, heaven is counting on your patient, tenacious persistence. These children are precious and priceless, and you are earning your "tired" like a medal of honor for devotion to the most important cause-- helping others back to our Heavenly Father.
When my intentional mother died at 61 years old, my Dad quoted Doctrine and Covenants 123:13 to describe my mom's consecrated energy for mothering. "Therefore, that we should waste and wear out our lives (in this work)..." That means "to be gradually consumed" and in "a worn out condition", which is the prize my mom earned having raised eight children and weathered much. But seriously, what possibly could be a more important way to spend your years? Nothing compares. Helping each other navigate this life well deserves all that we have, and it is the rallying call of motherhood.
What you bring to the game is everywhere unmatched. Unbound, undivided, unequivocal, unfettered, unconditional love. The unique compassion of a mother swirls around in her heart and soul, and is consuming. It is an unquenchable charity. It is such a powerful force to that woman that, against the odds, she has capacity to forgive and nurture and cheer and try again and again and again. It is so bottomless and deep that she punches in on the clock everyday and never gives up hope. This love is an endowment from the One who loves deepest, perfectly, and best, and it keeps a mother tethered close to the fight. And because He bestowed it, the accountability is to God.
I watch you and YOU are totally, both-feet and whole-body, "in", and I love you for it. On the Mother's Day, let me stand on this mountain and shout well-deserved cheers to the beautiful army of mothers that you are.
So, sketch away boys. You can't scare me with your pictures. I am a mother and I am in the arena to stay.
