Mother's Day

In the past I never understood why so many women hate Mother's Day that is... until this year.  

Usually the love I feel for my own wonderful mother supersedes and suppresses all feelings of inadequacy in my own mothering, but for some reason it just wasn't enough this year.   This year, the sun was still trying to peek over the mountains and I was already teary-eyed and struggling.  The little people weren't even out of bed yet.  But, I 'd realized we'd kept them up way too late the night before, hadn't properly prepared for the Sabbath, nobody had bathed and the hot water heater was still broken.  I knew it would take a blessed miracle to get my motley crew out the door on time for 9 o'clock church.  And in that moment on Mother's day, it just seemed overwhelmingly heavy.

But I mustered up what determination I could find and decided forgo happy thoughts of breakfast in bed and sweet smelling children. I decided to try and focus on those rare blessed moments that God occasionally gives me, those sacred glimpses of Mothering happiness.  Those moments when I realized I was indeed doing "better than you think" - as Elder Holland put it. 

Moments I hold near and dear to my heart: 

Like the other night when I inadvertently caught a glimpse of my teenage son down on his knees praying.

Or watching out the window as my little handful marched across the street to our recently widowed neighbor to share their artwork and condolences.

I love the fact that when my eight year old's world is dark and troubling she will still let me sit her on my lap and hold her tight.

  And for some reason, the knowledge that my thirteen year old knows how to make homemade bread, on her own, gives me immense joy!

And I won't ever forget that night last Christmas when a complete stranger came up to me to express her gratitude for my son, because while watching him lovingly care and help his struggling and asthmatic, younger brother during a Christmas program she was finally able to understand the love her elder brother and Savior had for her.

And every once in a rare-while, I will find the sweet, skinny arms my five-year baby wrapped tightly around my neck.  He doesn't do it all the time, which makes it all that more special, but when he does, it melts my heart. As he grows older, as all my babies grow older, I need his little hugs, they are such a simple reminder of how much he still loves his Momma.

I have to remember times like these when days get hard, these are a few of my more recent happy mother moments.  Its how I know I have taught them important things, when I know I have had a powerful influence for good in their lives and that they love me in-spite of it all.

But can I tell you? The real miracle is that we made it to church on time Sunday morning, everyone was dressed and feed and in the car by 8:50!   And I can tell you, it wasn't a real miracle, it was because of this man.  My Rock. My anchor. My everything.

He is the glue that keeps me together.  

Ever so grateful he trusted me, that choose me 

to be the mother of his children.