Powerful, Purposeful, Nurturing Motherhood

That is my mission.

Several weeks ago God told me my mission was motherhood.  I have been mulling this over, reworking my goals and priorities accordingly, and trying to understand it. The past couple weeks I have been asking for more clarity, for more specific insight into the direction of motherhood God wants me to take.  Tonight as I lay in bed the words came clear and strong:

Powerful, Purposeful, Nurturing Motherhood

I was grateful for the clear revelation, and excited to go to sleep, but the Spirit would not let me. When God speaks to me, I must treasure His words, and for me that means writing them down.

Powerful means that I am firm, vocal, unbending in choosing, defending and teaching that which is good, right, and true.  I refuse, speak against, and fight against - as occasion affords - anything which is bad, wrong, or false.

Purposeful means that I carefully choose the direction I take my family.  I think through the consequences and long term effects of what and how I teach, talk to, interact with and bless my children.  I don't do things because they are normal, easy, or convenient.  Nor do I do them because they are different, hard, or challenging.  I choose how to parent, how to live, how to work, how to teach, how to love, how to play because of guidance from God, and the real long-term outcomes.

Nurturing means that I desire, and work for the growth of my children.  I have charity, gentleness, and meekness as a mother.  I desire their spiritual growth most of all.  I want them to have faith in Jesus Christ, to understand His atonement, and follow His plan of happiness.  I also desire their physical, mental, and emotional growth.  

I am a mother who knows that a slow start does not mean defeat.

I wanted to start this new year off with a bang!  I had my heart set on some really big goals.  Mostly a long list of Crossfit skills and PRs that I want to reach in order to prepare for some local competitions, and dejunking my house in preparation for moving to a smaller one.  I was wanting to work hard at the box, and at home while I had my personal trainer (Jonathan) home to help me.

But New Year's Day, when I was going to start hard, found me on day 3 of miserably sick.  As did January 2nd...and 3rd - My entire week of project time was squandered on tissues, coughing, fevers, sore throats, headaches, no voice (it is barely coming back today, finally:-) children crying and coughing all night, and vascilating emotions between depressed, discouraged, wondering what I am supposed to be learning from this, and hoping that tomorrow I, and my children and husband, would be all better.

Today I am starting to really feel better. But as for my big plans - I am a week and a half behind the schedule I had planned.

As I look at where I am, I am full of hope, still.  I am not out of the race. My goals are still important to me, no less than they were before.  I still have them beating in my heart.  Starting them 10 days later than planned is okay. I am actually surprised at my own hopefulness and excitement.  I feel even more determined to stay dedicated to my path.  And I have had time to ponder and consider my children's needs, and my marriage more.  I gained insights on other areas I need to work to keep balance this year.  I feel good about taking things in stride, one day at a time, just consistently doing a little each day on the things that are important to me.  I feel assured that no matter the challenges that come to throw me off my path, I will be able to continue moving on it.

I thank my Heavenly Father for this feeling of hope and courage!

I am a mother who knows Christ will not leave us comfortless.

Today is Addy Day.  It is the day she returned to our Father in Heaven 13 years ago.   Here is some of what I wrote at the time.


Addy came to our home as a gift from our loving Father in Heaven.  She came to gain a body, and complete a short but important mission in this life.  Our family is greatly blessed to have had her. When I first realized that Addy had died I was scared, hurt, confused.  But very quickly my Father in Heaven blessed me with a sweet peace, and the knowledge that Addy's life on earth was complete, that he had called her home to do his work on the others side of the veil.  I know that Addy is with her Savior, and is happy.  I feel that she misses us with the same sweetness that we miss her, but her spirit will always be near to our family, And Kate will have a sister on the other side watching out for her, as a guardian angel

Addy was beaming, Kate, not so much

My Heavenly Father knew how quickly my heart would break when Addy left us.  he did all he could to prepare things to ease my pain.  The week before she died we had our first ever family picture taken..  Addy beamed for the camera.  The last day that I had my sweet Addy was the day before we had planned to go home for Christmas.  I wanted to have pictures to take to Grandmas and decided to use up the last of my film in the camera to try and get a current picture of Addy, and of Kate and Addy together.  I took pictures of my sweet , happy girls and took them to be developed.  The roll came back with some wonderful pictures.  We had bought a couple of special stories to give our girls for Christmas.  That day, because everything was going smoothly, I took time to write a letter to Addy inside the front cover of her book.

I put two happy girls to bed that night, and finished wrapping a few last gifts and put the last of our clothes in suitcases to go hoe.  I finished at 11 and just then Addy started to wake up.  This was not usual for her. and if I had followed our "rules" I would have let her cry it out to keep her sleeping through the night, but instead, because I was still awake, I got her up.  She was happy and seemed playful so we sat on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, and played.  She crawled across the floor to me a few times and gazed at the Christmas lights.  She sat on my lap, and played with my hand, patting it, and waving her hands.  Then I went and nursed her.

 After eating well she still was not sleepy, so I took her in her room and rocked her and sang to her all my favorite carols. I started with Silent Night, then God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, O Holy Night, Away in a Manger, We Three Kings, many others I don't recall.  I ended with Hush Thee My Baby, and one more time of Silent Night.  She snuggled in my arms and after a while, settled down.  I laid her in her crib, covered her up, and kissed her goodnight.  This sweet little baby knew she was leaving and said her good-byes to ease her mother's pain.  I did not know it was good-bye then, but I am so grateful for such a sweet last memory.


Years later I can say that I still miss my little girl.  I know she watches over our family, I feel her near when I am at the temple.  She is a tangible anchor that keeps me striving to return to Heaven myself.

Most of all I can say that God knew what I needed to experience in order to make me really change and learn and grow.  He gave me the sweet and bitter experience then, to prepare me for other experiences later on, and so that I can have empathy for others.

Each time I turn to God for comfort, with real faith, and purpose of heart, He does give me solace. He lets me choose to turn to Him for peace or to try and fight through on my own.  I have tried both options at different times.  I can definitively say I prefer the peace and comfort that He offers to the pain and loneliness and despair that I find on my own.  He has shown me his working in my life, in the little details, like a picture taken on certain day, and in the big over-arching direction of my life.  I have felt His presence, I know He is there.  He has not left me comfortless.

I am a mother who knows peace.

Merry Christmas 2014!

Twas the night before New Years and all through our house,
There was peace and rejoicing, for me and my spouse.

The children were tucked all snug in their beds,
While visions of happiness danced in their heads.

I had thought through this past year and saw good and bad,
Some hard times of sadness, and the miracles we had.

Our measures of progress were scarce to appear,
Our lives looked the same to those we call dear.

But if you could open and see in our hearts
They now are fast made with much stronger parts.

We learned from our garden that God has a plan.
His cycles teach patience to impatient man.

Bright Kate found her dream to teach others truth
through music and stage about Esther (and Ruth?)

Good Cassidy has served her family in love.
Our expectations she exceeds beyond and above.

Boy Wyatt has grown to love working with Dad.
Also reading, eating, and flying are times to be had.

Joy! Mille has taught us to always keep trying,
Though sometimes life's hard and we find ourselves crying.

Estella Jane's walking and smiles remind
that her health is a miracle from a Father, kind.

At Crossfit we're given the chance to grow muscle
that helps us at home and when life is a bustle.

But greatest blessing this year that I can recall
Is Christ's Atonement to lift us each time we fall.

Jesus came into our home through scripture and prayer
Our lives are changed for we felt him there.

May this new year for you bring a blessing so sweet.
Although the joy comes after tears at His feet.

Home-grown watermelon.  Can't we eat it already?

Home crafted costume of Glinda the good witch

Getting violins for first lessons.

Saying Goodbye to Raksaka

 

Airplane ride for 9th Birthday.

  

Hot date to see the lights.

 

I am a mother who knows her child is a blessing.

Yesterday was Cassidy's 11th Birthday.  We celebrated it today, due to family schedules.  She is a great blessing to me.  Cassidy has a strong inner drive, and has chosen on her own to use it for good. She is a girl who sets an early alarm because she wants to wake up.  Get's up and does her morning routine and chores, rarely needing to be asked.  She then helps me with her younger sisters, or breakfast, or jumps into her school work.  She doesn't complain when I ask for her help, just obeys.
We recently have had discussions on the importance of her asking for and communicating her needs and desires, because I fear her giving nature would cause her to not take care of herself, and in the end leave her less able to help others.  The smart girl, seems to have understood it.  She proactively wrote me a list of her desired meals for her birthday, before I asked her.  She also asked if she could have a day of no chores today instead of yesterday.  She used the time to engage in art, cooking, Google sketchup, music, and invited her siblings along as they were interested.  (Helping Mille paint is a labor of love.) I am grateful that she has been able to communicate and acknowledge her needs and desires.

She is my child that has taken up the slack for the times when I am depressed over the last few years. She is fully capable of cooking a meal - eggs, fish, chicken, soup, steamed veges, salads, casseroles - anything with a recipe.  She has dried batches of produce on her own, and helped me with canning. She has used every appliance and tool in our kitchen.  She has made bread, pies, cakes from scratch, and even played at her own recipes occasionally.  She can lead school, do babysitting - truly nurturing and engaging with her siblings, change a diaper, prepare a bottle, bathe children, put a baby to sleep, clean a house, or do laundry - not all at once, but who can?  I often refer to her as my secretary, as she will take care of paperwork, or online purchases for me.  When I am driving or have my hands full, she will send text messages or emails for me.

On her own, she loves to read - classics usually.  She loves writing - lately it has been poetry, drawing and painting, learning about plants and herbs, exploring and building outside, she has taken up violin this year and practices without my asking, and is progressing very well.  She can sew, and I think knows more proper methods and techniques than I do now, thanks to some amazing mentors in her Little Women's group.  I will forever be grateful to Michelle Mullis and Heather Poll for their influence on Cassidy and I.  She spends time designing on Google Sketch-up, or using photo editors, or searching for names on Family Search.  She has completed more than the required number of goals in Faith in God, and should have another year.  She has begun to love dressing up and getting pretty.

She knows she wants to learn a healing art.  It used to be doctor, then midwife, now she is not sure exactly what, but she stills desires to learn about and become better at healing.  She certainly has a gift of compassion and blessing others.

I could go on and on about what I learn from and admire in this child.  I love her, I am blessed to be her mother.  As she is showing so many signs of being ready for scholar phase, I am sad to lose my little girl, and in a selfish way, know I will certainly miss all of her help, but my heart sings, to see her growth and feel the peace that she is so well prepared.  She has a solid love of learning, understanding of right and wrong, good and bad, true and false, is humble enough to be very teachable.  I pray God will show her and us the right mentors and paths, that she can be prepared to be an instrument in his hands, to bring her own children, and others around her unto Christ.

I am a mother who knows what I celebrate. Part 2

... Two Years Later.
In April I gave birth to a second perfect little girl. We named her Addy.  She was a happy baby that slept through the night from only a couple months old.  She reached every milestone- smiling, reaching for toys, sitting up, right on target. By mid-December she was learning to crawl.
The night of December 20, Jonathan was on travel, and I was getting us ready for a trip to Utah for Christmas.  Jonathan would be home in the afternoon and we would start driving.  I had the girls bathed, and in bed.  Suitcases packed and the house clean. The presents were all wrapped and carefully hidden in a large suitcase.  Just as I turned out all the lights - except the Christmas lights -and was going to head to bed, Addy woke up.  I picked her up, and she seemed wide awake, playful.  I was in an excited mood, and so I took her out by the tree and we played on the floor. She crawled back and forth to me.  After a while, I decided I should try to get her back to sleep, so I nursed her.  She was still awake, so I sang to her, nearly every Christmas carol I knew, by then she was still awake, but calm, so I laid her in her bed, and went to mine.  

The next morning 2 year old Kate woke me up.  I fed her breakfast and then went quietly into the girls room to get her clothes.  As I peeked in the crib, I was  --- there are no words for what I was --- my baby was dead.  Even now my body goes numb, and my mind blank, as I try to remember that moment.  

My life was eternally altered.  I was carried by the Lord through the next hours, days, weeks and months.  Eventually, the Lord set me gently back on my own two feet, and I had to really confront all of my emotions, thoughts, fears, and hopes.  I had to know what I really believed, about heaven and eternal families, yes.  But I had to know the details, what was my Addy doing as a Spirit.  What would it be like when I met her again? Would she be grown or back to her infant body? Had she died because of something I had done or was it really God's will and timing?    I began a quest for knowledge.  For Truth.  When my yearning eased, the pain of missing my baby came back - a physical aching in my arms to hold her, and in my chest - my heart.  I learned that to ease the pain I had to return to my quest for understanding.   

Through study, prayer, and personal revelation and more study my questions were answered.  I learned that I had to accept God's will.  Trust that his plan was for my happiness.  I had to forgive myself and God.  I had to get to the place where like our Savior, I could say, "Not my will, but Thine be done."  I cycled in and out of faith and hope, and despair and depression.  But always, a tiny thread at a time, my testimony was growing, and God was teaching me.

Once I learned, and really knew in my heart, that my child was in heaven, and I could have her back so long as I qualified for heaven, my quest changed.  How was I going to be sure and make it to Heaven?  I have so many weaknesses.  Make so many mistakes.  Like Nephi my spirit rejoices, but my flesh is weak.  Why do I wallow in depression when I know the truth of the Gospel?

I had to purge out all iniquity from myself and my home - that was the only way I could get my daughter back, or rather, qualify to go where she is someday.

Along my quest, I began to look at Traditions.  I found that I did have some false traditions.  Some traditions that were not serving to bring me to Christ.  I want everything to bring me to Christ.  As a mortal, I need all the help I can get.    How could I change tradition?  Its very nature and definition mean it is part of our culture, ingrained in us.  I had some more painful learning experiences ahead.

To be continued...

I am a mother who knows what I celebrate. Part 1

I celebrate the birth, life, mission, atonement and Resurrection of Jesus Christ.  I talk of Christ, rejoice in Christ, and write of Christ that my children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins, for healing from pain, for strength beyond their own, for guidance and truth, for happiness and hope.

Several years ago, I started down a road of questioning all of my traditions.  There are many verses throughout the Book of Mormon that talk about the "false traditions of our fathers."  I wondered if I had any false traditions from my childhood, that I was passing on to my children.  I started looking at holidays and the traditions around those holidays.

What I learned took me on a journey and changed how I celebrate Christmas.


My mother made Christmas truly magical.  There were 10 children in our family, so our house was always bustling, and there were always children young enough to get into the magic.  It took 3 full days of hard work to clean the house and put up the decorations, right after Thanksgiving. All the regular wall decor,  and knicknacks were wrapped up into boxes and in there place we put snowmen, Santa Clauses, elves, reindeer, holly boughs, tinsel, ginger bread houses, mistletoe and of course a nativity.  The pink and blue hand towels were replaced with red and green.  There were Christmas lights, in some form or another in every room of the house.  A beautiful, real Christmas tree upstairs, and a fun one the children could decorate downstairs.   Most of December you could hear Mannheim Steamroller and Johnny Mathis' Christmas Album playing, you could smell the sweet spicyness of wasail in the crockpot, ready when you got home from school, or came in from the cold.   And I'm sure there was always a foot of snow ;-)

Every night we would read a different Christmas story.  The first one was The Last Straw.  It was just on plain typed paper, long before the beautiful picture book was published.  Then we would draw names for Pixies.  That was who we got to secretly serve that week.  And each week before Christmas we drew a new name.  I loved this tradition and always liked to make a big deal of doing something for my person every day.  I also would anxiously look on my bed for love notes, and treats from my pixie.  I remember one year there was a week when my pixie didn't come - the first day, nor the second, nor the third.  I was getting very disappointed. Being young, I think I let that disappointment show to my siblings, in hope that my pixie would get on the ball, I also tried all the harder to be an excellent pixie myself, doing a chore and leaving a love note.  Maybe an after school treat, too. 
Finally, on Friday I came home, with the faintest hope.  Before going inside to look though, I went out to the woodshed to check on a new batch of kittens, - our cats always belonged to me, and I loved to play with new kittens.  As I looked in the shed, the first thing I saw was a streak of red on one of the little white and grey fluffballs.  My first thought was "Oh no, somehow she has been hurt."  But as I lifted her out of the shed, I saw that it was a red ribbon tied around her neck. Attached was a piece of paper with "2. Look where you wash clothes."  It was in my oldest, teenage brother's handwriting. (We almost always figured out who our pixie was, but we never let on.)   This was a piece to a treasure hunt.  That was always considered the ultimate gift a pixie could do. It extended the surprise to the maximum.  I was ecstatic, as I ran into the laundry room and searched for the next clue.  I went around gathering the clues one by one, all around the house, until I was led to the microwave where a cup of hot chocolate and some cookies were waiting for me.  I enjoyed it, although I felt bad for having complained about a slacker pixie.  Really I had the best one!  And after I ate my treat, I had the fun of looking for the first clue.  The fun lasted even longer.

I remember writing Santa letters and giving them to Mom.  One year, I got to wondering, though. I remember writing a different letter to Santa, putting it in an envelope and mailing it off.  However, I never was sure if I had the right address, and therefore, I always believed my test had not really been valid.  Just because I got what I had put on the list I handed to Mom, didn't mean Santa wasn't real.  It just meant she had the right way of getting it to Santa, and I didn't.  I have often been told I am a little too trusting!  

I remember Christmas Eve driving home from our cousins house, and watching the sky, hoping I might see Santa's sleigh.  I had a very real belief.  I remember my Grandma Wood telling me a story of seeing Santa one Christmas Eve night when she was a little girl.

My mom had a little bendable rubber elf.  He moved around our house to random places on a shelf, or end table, or the bathroom counter.  He was Santa's special messenger.  He was always watching to see "who was naughty or nice."  My mom was way ahead of the now popular "Elf on the Shelf"  My mother could have written the book on how to make Christmas magical.

Now jump ahead several years to my first Christmas with my husband.  You will probably laugh at this.  But I actually, was very sad and disappointed that I had to acknowledge that Santa wasn't real, and the only presents I would get from him would have to be put under the tree myself. I believe they call this the disease of Entitlement, that my spoiled generation is so prone to.  I had been taught well enough to not act on those emotions of selfishness, but I cannot deny that I grappled with them.

The next year, I had a baby.  Oh excitement!  I could start trying to be the amazing mother, I had been shown.  I delved into the world of making Christmas magical.  We were on a college student budget mind you, and I had a husband wise enough to have taught me about interest - that we want to earn it, and not pay it, and therefore we must not spend that which we did not have.  So I had to be creative and resourceful, but Christmas would be celebrated and magical nonetheless.

Then, two years later, my life changed forever.  Something happened that made me start to question everything in my life.  I had to know what was real, what was truth.  I had to start living more completely according to that truth.

Continued tomorrow...

I am a mother who knows my role is Glorious.

There is no more influential role in all of mortality than that of a mother.  We have a glorious position of importance and power, as we join with God to bring a new life to this earth.  Then we nurture and guide and help to shape him, so that he might grow safely and strongly into his own role and mission. There is no other role that has more influence on another person's life.
In this world of mortals, with Satan trying to be the God, there is often a feeling that because it is such a hard role - much toil, and labor, and day after day of working at the seemingly same tasks, and because there are no accolades in it, that it is a poor choice, a drudge job, for one who is less qualified for some other more exciting vocation.  This is not true.

Motherhood is a job that requires of, and builds in the woman more skill, knowledge, character, and virtue than any other choice she has.  It is not easy. It does not bring fame or fortune.  It involves pain and hardship from the beginning of pregnancy, throughout life as we watch and feel their heartaches, mistakes, and struggles.  It is a mostly thankless job, if you are looking for cheering crowds, you will be disappointed.

But it is Glorious.

It is how you get to use every ounce of your capacity and talent and wisdom, as you creatively seek for ways to teach, love, heal, help, guide, inspire, feed, educate, build, praise, counsel, correct, nurture, discipline, and grow your child.  There is much joy and satisfaction to be found, despite the toil, as we ask God what he needs us to do for our child each day.  There is always a new challenge to engage our minds and hearts as we strive to teach the next principle our child must learn, to find his own happiness in life.

In the song, Glorious, it talks about everyone playing a part in the symphony of life.  Motherhood is the bass line.  It is the low undertones of the music.  It is hardly noticed compared to the melody.  But it is an essential, powerful, steady part of any symphony.  It is what sets a foundation for melodies and harmonies to ring out on.

I am a mother who knows my child.

This is a story I wrote for Mille, my 5 year old who, since a baby, has struggled with learning and developing skills that come easy to most of us.

Seven Gifts

When Mille was sent from Heaven to Earth, her Heavenly Father gave her several gifts.  He carefully chose these gifts to help her on her journey so that she would be able to return to him.  He loved her very much, but she could only return to live with Him, if she learned how to, and chose to live like Him.  Otherwise she would not be happy and comfortable in His home.

The first two gifts he gave her were given to every child He sent to Earth. 

The first gift was Agency.  This gift would give Mille the freedom to choose everything she did in this life.  She could choose to be kind or to hurt others, to share or to keep things all to herself.  She could choose to obey or to disobey.  She could choose to be honest or to tell a lie.  She could choose to work hard or to just play.  She could choose to try, and try again or to quit when something was hard.  She could choose to learn or to ignore.

The second gift was His son, Jesus.  Jesus showed the path back to Heavenly Father and he Atoned for Mille’s sins and pain and weakness. This means he paid the penalty for her sins, and felt all her sorrow, and hurt.  Because He was perfect and the physical son of Heavenly Father this was His mission, and only He could do it.

The other gifts He gave her were unique to Mille.  Four gifts came in beautiful shining packages.  Mille was thrilled to hold each of them.  They made her warm and joyful and excited as she looked at and explored them.

Three was the gift of a beautiful, healthy body.  Mille had yellow-gold hair, blue eyes that sparkled when she giggled, which she did a lot. A button nose and a tear-drop shaped face.  Her frame was small and dainty. She had perfect posture and amazing flexibility.

The fourth gift was Music.  Mille loved music and dancing.  She learned to sing the song “I am a Child of God” long before she spoke her first sentence.  She often sang and danced as she went about her day.

The fifth gift was Joy.  Mille felt excitement over so many things.  She loved the animals, and flowers.  She loved the flavor and texture of foods.  She would light up and give hugs when she saw people she loved… and to complete strangers.  She loved holidays, especially “Happy Days” as she called birthdays.  On her calendar, time was measured by holidays.

The sixth gift was Love of Family.  Mille loved families, more than most, especially mothers and babies.  She would watch family movies on the computer and look at family pictures in albums.  She would play house to practice being a mother.  She would often ask other people about their children, and she would talk about the husband and children she would have when she grew up. 

Mille’s last gift was different.  It was not bright and shiny like her other gifts.  It was wrapped in ordinary, plain brown paper.  It was very heavy, too heavy for her to carry alone.  Mille wasn’t sure she really wanted this gift.  But Heavenly Father assured her that this gift was her most important gift to help her return to Him.  This was her gift that would teach her how to live as Jesus did.  It would be the gift that would prepare her to live with Him again. 

This seventh gift was a Trial.  It was a different wiring in her brain that made it harder for her to learn things.

When other children crawled at 8 months, it took Mille until 12 months.  When other children walked at 12 months, it took Mille until 20 months.  When other children could talk in sentences at 2 years, it took Mille until she was 3 ¾ years.  She had to be told the names of things like colors, and animals, and food, and toys 20 or 30 or 50 times before her brain could remember them.  It was hard for her to say what she needed and wanted and sometimes this was very frustrating.

When other children played a game, Mille was sometimes lost.  She did not understand how to play, or her body struggled to do the movements and keep up, or her brain could not form the words.  Then she would be left out and her feeling would hurt.

She couldn’t always tell when her body needed to go to the bathroom.  Sometimes that was very embarrassing.

Heavenly Father promised Mille other gifts to come as she needed them.  If she would pray and ask for a gift and work hard for it, He would send her every gift she may need or want that would help her return Home.  He loved her, and wanted to help her return.

Because Mille’s seventh gift was too heavy to carry alone.  Her father and mother and sisters and brother all helped Mille carry it at times.  Other people also came into Mille's life and helped her carry her heavy gift.  In return Mille shared her other gifts with them.