Happy Mother’s day! It’s good to be back in the ward for a Sunday. I have the pleasure today of talking about motherhood as it relates to the Savior, who is our greatest example in all things including maternal love and sacrifice.
Anne
Campbell wrote: “You are the trip I did not take; You are the pearls I cannot
buy; You are my blue Italian lake; You are my piece of foreign sky. You are my Honolulu moon, you are the book I did not write, you are my heart's unuttered tune, you are a candle in my night.” Without knowing the title of the poem, “To my
child,” it is not difficult to guess who the author is referring to, for whom
she sacrifices trips and pearls. These
sacrifices are not uncommon to mothers. Not
every woman is blessed with the time I’ve had to enjoy foreign skies and
Italian lakes before becoming a mother.
As the
oldest child in my family, I have always been cognizant of many of the
sacrifices my mother made for me. I knew that even without studying much for
it, she excelled on the LSAT and could have done well in law school. She is an excellent writer, and as a nearly
empty nester, is finally finding the time to complete Helga’s
autobiography. For many years, I was for
my mother “the book she did not write.”
Even
though I knew many of the sacrifices my mother made for me, it was only when I
became a mother that I understood more fully.
During one challenging period with my baby Aaron, I recently pondered,
“There is nothing he could do to repay me, regardless of anything he may do for
me in the future. The many sleepless
nights, the financial sacrifice to stay home and provide the material things he
needs, and the care I give him every hour would forever be beyond his reach to
repay. And yet these are sacrifices that
Micah and I are happy to make. What do I
hope for then, as a mother that I will receive in return for all I give to
Aaron? I realized that what I hope for most in return is his happiness. His happiness is my greatest recompense, and
more rewarding than any pearls I could otherwise buy or return trips to Italian
lakes.
These thoughts
turned my mind to the Savior’s sacrifice for us. Like our mothers, He gave us new life, and we
could never present Him with the same gift or afford the infinite price tag on
His infinite atonement which made eternal life possible. We cannot imagine His sufferings, which He
tells us were “sore—how sore you know not, how exquisite you know not, yea,
how hard to bear you know not.” And for His
sufferings, the only recompense He hopes for is our happiness, and His only
request is that we repent and remain obedient to the laws of heaven because
that is the only way for us to receive a fullness of joy.
When I
view commandments or difficult experiences with the lens of motherhood, I am
able to feel the Savior’s love even through challenging things. Aaron doesn’t always appreciate elements of
the care I give him. When he cries as I
change his diaper or take something sharp away from him, I constantly explain
to him, although he won’t fully understand for a long time, that my love and
desire for his happiness are always my only motive. I love him enough to take
away something he wants or subject him to temporary discomfort in order to provide
him with longer term comfort and happiness.
As he grows older, I will ask him to always look both ways before he
crosses the street and other rules for his safety, development, and happiness
that he might not always welcome.
While
studying the scriptures last year, I began to notice further parallels between
the Savior’s love and sacrifice for us and motherhood. I recognized that the Lord often uses the
sacrifice unique to mothers, that of carrying a baby to term and giving birth,
as a metaphor for the atonement. Three
words in particular: pain, labor, and travail, are sometimes used as a trio together,
or in other places two out of three of the words, to describe birthing pains. They are used as a metaphor for the Savior laboring
for our salvation or for His servants aiding Him in this effort. Here is one example in 2 Nephi which refers
to the Jews bringing salvation to the Gentiles through the Bible: “Yea, what do
the Gentiles mean? Do they remember the travails,
and the labors, and the pains
of the Jews, and their diligence unto me, in bringing forth salvation unto the
Gentiles?”
The word
“bear” is also commonly used in the birth metaphor for the labor of
salvation. Isaiah 53: Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our
sorrows:… He shall see the travail of
his soul and shall be satisfied: by his knowledge shall my righteous servant
justify many; for he shall bear their
iniquities.”
The book
Beloved Bridegroom recently enhanced my understanding of this birth metaphor. It notes that the Jews believed it would take
“Chevlai shel Mashiach” or the “Birth pangs of the Messiah” to bring to pass
redemption. Quote, “Just as birth is
preceded and accompanied by birth pangs, there are likewise “pangs of Messiah”
in the generation in which the Son of David will appear.”
And like a
mother’s sacrifice to bear a child through pregnancy and give birth is only the
beginning of the love she will demonstrate to her child throughout her life, so
the Savior’s love continues to bless us throughout eternity. The Lord demonstrates His watchful care
through other maternal metaphors, such as the comparison of Himself to a mother
hen, who desires to gather her chickens, the House of Israel, under her wings.
Isaiah 46 provides further insight into the enduring maternal like love of
the Savior: ¶Hearken unto me, O house of Jacob, and all the aremnant of the house of Israel, which are borne by me from the belly, which are carried from the
womb: 4 And even
to your aold age I am he; and even to bhoar hairs (grey
hairs) will I carry you: I have made, and I
will bear; even I will ccarry, and will ddeliver you.”
As I know the
Lord will always carry me, even as an adult, my own mother continues to
demonstrate this love. I recently
unpacked a box of kitchen utensils, and there was a sticky note inside taped to
some wrapped knives that says, “SHARP KNIVES (in caps!). P.s. Hi from Mom.” I’m sorry to admit that I don’t remember my
mother helping me pack my kitchen utensils when we moved from Indiana two years
ago, but her love continues with me, making sure that I don’t get cut by future
knives.
I felt other
effects of my mother’s long distance love while on my mission. I credit my lack of homesickness to my
mother’s poetic weekly letters describing the flowers growing in the garden,
what the family enjoyed for Sunday dinner, the activities of my sisters, and
thoughts she was pondering about. Home
seemed so close that I never missed it!
One area, however, was particularly challenging for me on my mission. I remember sitting in a sacrament meeting
when I was new in the branch feeling overwhelmed and wondering how I could
dredge up the enthusiasm to get to know the members after church. Suddenly I felt a deep warmth run through me,
bringing renewed hope and the strength to do difficult things. I recognized this as a love letter relayed
through the Spirit from my mother, who had been praying in particular that I
might feel her love. This brought to my
mind a prompting my mother had mentioned to me earlier; when she was feeling
sad about my absence: she said excitedly, “The Spirit told me you’re coming
home!” I knew that no matter what
challenges I would face on my mission, that I would be given the strength to
overcome them, and yes, one day I would go home.
I imagined
that, Ammon, the arm slaying son of Mosiah, felt similar comfort as he
confronted the men who had lead away the king’s sheep. The scriptures attribute his success in
cutting off arms not to his immense physical strength or even his
righteousness, but to the prayers of his father. Alma
17 reports that the sheep thieves did not fear Ammon, for they
supposed that one of their men could slay him according to their pleasure, for
they knew not that the Lord had promised Mosiah that he would adeliver his sons out of their hands. The love and prayers of Ammon’s father directed
through the spirit made him invincible, as my mother’s love blessed and
protected me.
The Savior’s promise
to us is the same. We leave His physical
presence for a brief time, analogous to a mission, during which He grants us
grace to overcome any obstacle we face including death and sin. Then His love
brings us home to Him. The Spirit whispers to us here as it did to my mother, “There
is no need to fear. Abide now in my love, and in a short time, you’re coming
home!”
My mother’s
love teaches me to rely on the promise “Even to my old age and grey hairs it is
the Savior who carries me; it is He who will deliver me back home with Him.” I’m grateful for my mother and her love that
points me to Christ. I endeavor to be that
kind of a mother, and hope that through my love, Aaron will come to know his
Savior and rely on His love until the time he returns home to be encircled in
the Savior’ arms.
