Sacrament talk given 5/8/16 for Mothers' Day
We moved into this ward in Summer,
1987, bringing with us a three year old boy, Ethan, and a five month old
daughter, Julie. In 1990, another daughter, Meredith, would be born to us.
Every May since 1987, on Mother’s Day, I have sat in this congregation and
listened to speakers describe their angel mothers, or cite General Authorities
talking about their angel mothers. These
mothers were almost always described as choice women who nurtured their
children and exemplified and passed on Christlike
attributes. They relished their callings as homemakers, and made their
households a little bit of heaven. They are remembered fondly for their gentle
demeanor, their compassionate ways and their thorough grounding in the Gospel
of Jesus Christ. If you had a mother such as this or if you are one, I salute
you.
Let me now tell you about my mother, Madeleine Clark.
She was not a member of our church; she was nominally – very
nominally – a Catholic. She was one of eleven children raised by a French-Canadian
father living in New Hampshire;
her mother died when she was only four years old. She was a strong, bold and
passionate woman and you crossed or attempted to thwart her at your peril. My
parents quarreled often, and if it’s true that the wife normally sets the
emotional tone of the home, my home’s emotional tone
featured a lot of volume. During a heated argument with Dad, my mother once
picked up my Mickey Mouse alarm clock and flung it. She missed Dad, but hit the
bathroom door. Whereas Mickey’s head bobbed in time to the balance wheel and
normally went tick-tick-tick in a steady, regular pace, forever afterwards it
went tick. Tick. Tickticktick, tick.
It never occurred to my mother that there were things she
couldn’t do simply because she was a female, and she welcomed hard work,
especially demolition. I have a photograph of her dressed in my father’s
coveralls, gleefully holding a twelve pound sledgehammer, ready to flatten a
stone fish pond that we could not prevent from leaking. Once, Mom and I helped
some friends move into their house, and I had just gotten some big piece of
furniture into the living room when I heard my mother, behind me, breathing
hard and asking for some help. Somehow or another, on her own, she had managed
to move a big refrigerator, without a dolly, a considerable distance to the
door of the home. I knew she was formidable, but this took me by surprise!
Mom worked for decades as a waitress, and hers was the kind
of sassy waitressing personality that would not brook any nonsense from
customers, especially after she took the family savings and opened a business
of her own, a café that sold burgers and beer to the Lockheed aircraft company
crowd. She’d backtalk the men, and argue with them if
it suited her. They loved her. Her party trick was shoving a 70 pound keg of
beer down the ramp with her hip, tapping it, and lifting it into the
refrigerated part of the appliance. Men would offer to do it for her, but she’d
respond with a cheery, “That’s okay – I got it,” and the show would begin.
Honest, I once saw her physically push a mouthy, swearing customer out the
front door. I thought I was there to
act as the bouncer, but on this occasion she beat me to it. He took her advice
and did not return.
I grew up in the time before seat belts were common, and
have memories of Mom’s forearm slamming me in the sternum during occasions of
hard breaking while in the car. When I started playing rugby in my forties, the
scrum brought back memories of being a small child. And living with Mom enabled
me to more easily work with difficult people. When I entered Marine Corps boot
camp there was an occasion when two drill instructors were screaming at me, one
in each ear. You may not believe this, but I distinctly recall thinking, “Meh. This is only yelling. I can deal with that.”
I was an only child, and it was always clear that Mom cared
for me. A lot. She was fiercely protective; Sarah Palin once coined the term “Mama Grizzly.” My mother was
such a person. But you don’t have to take my word for it – ask my wife Cari, who worked out her relationship as Mom’s
daughter-in-law with some difficulty. Mom did not relinquish her role as the
foremost woman in my life easily or quickly.
My mother died in 1995, knowing her three grandchildren. She
was a very devoted grandmother… it was clear that her happiest days were the
ones attempting to spoil them.
I said that I spent years listening to people talk lovingly
about their angel mothers, and wondering why I didn’t have one quite so…
angelic. With maturity, I came to understand that the reason why was because
our Heavenly Father is wise, and He gave me the very mother I needed. I am now
old enough to realize that some of my best traits, be they occasionally
difficult to reconcile with a soft-spoken priesthood holder, came from my
mother. Had I a gentler mother it might be that I would not have achieved the
things that I have, and that I would have merely faded
into the background of any company I was in. She modeled a certain type of
determined behavior, and I have adapted it to my own use. If I had my choice –
if I could select - would I have chosen one of those angel mothers I hear about
so often? Am I wiser than my Heavenly Father? No. My mother was heaven sent
just for me, and as difficult as life could be with her on occasion, I am glad
to be her son. I loved my mother.
My mother’s mother – a French-Canadian - was named Delia,
and after Mom died a few old photographs of Delia and her mother came into my
possession. My looks, including my awesome pudgy nose, come from my Mom. Mom’s
looks came from Delia, and Delia’s from her
mother. If you count my daughter Julie, there is a five generation physical
resemblance down my maternal line. (This is the kind of fascinating information
you learn when you do your genealogical research!)
It’s dangerous to judge a person’s character and attributes
by his or her photograph, but the moment I laid eyes on Grandmother Delia I
thought, “There is a woman who was proud and happy to have children. A woman who rejoiced in her posterity.” As I mentioned
earlier, Delia had eleven sons and daughters, and died as a result of the
childbirth of the last one. It must have been so very hard for her to leave her
earthly children, the oldest being only twenty when she died. The family lore
is that my grandfather was bitterly angry with the church upon his wife’s
death, convinced that Catholic teachings about having large
families was to blame. But I think that grandmother Delia believed that
her sons and daughters were more important than she was, and willingly
sacrificed.
I am happy to report, that by the sealing power restored in
these latter days via the temple proxy work I have done, Delia is sealed to her
children and family and they are sealed to her. The last of Grandmother Delia’s
children died as recently as 2003; I know that somewhere there is a large
happy, restored family, and that my mother, now acquainted with her mother, is
a part of it. I look forward to being reunited with my mother, meeting my
grandmother Delia for the first time and rejoicing with them, saying, “See the
wonderful blessings our Heavenly Father has given us!”
Shari L. Dew, in an October 2001 conference talk entitled
“Are We Not All Mothers?” once pondered, Quote “Have you ever wondered why prophets have
taught the doctrine of motherhood—and it is doctrine—again and again? I have. I
have thought long and hard about the work of women of God. And I have wrestled
with what the doctrine of motherhood means for all of us. This issue has driven
me to my knees, to the scriptures, and to the temple—all of which teach an
ennobling doctrine regarding our most crucial role as women. It is a doctrine
about which we must be clear if we hope to stand “steadfast and immovable”
regarding the issues that swirl around our gender. For Satan has declared war
on motherhood. He knows that those who rock the cradle can rock his earthly
empire. And he knows that without righteous mothers loving and leading the next
generation, the
In the
Some
years ago, I prayed for the words to defend motherhood when I received an
anonymous phone call. The caller asked, “Are you Neill Marriott, the mother of
a big family?” I answered happily, “Yes!” expecting to hear her say something
like, “Well, that’s good!” But no! I’ll never forget her reply as her voice
crackled over the phone: “I am highly offended that you would bring children
onto this overcrowded planet!” “Oh,” I sputtered, “I see how you feel.” She
snapped, “No—you don’t!” I then whimpered, “Well, maybe I don’t.” She started
on a rant about my foolish choice to be a mother. As she went on, I began to
pray for help, and a gentle thought came to mind: “What would the Lord say to
her?” I then felt I was standing on solid ground and gained courage at the
thought of Jesus Christ. I replied, “I am glad to be a mother, and I promise
you I will do everything in my power to nurture my children in such a way that
they will make the world a better place.” She replied, “Well, I hope you do!”
and hung up.”
It
wasn’t a big thing—after all, I was standing safely in
my own kitchen! But in my own small way, I was able to speak in defense of
family, mothers, and nurturers because of two things: (1) I understood and
believed God’s doctrine of the family, and (2) I prayed for words to convey
these truths.
Being
distinct and different from the world will draw some criticism, but we must
anchor ourselves to eternal principles and testify of them, no matter the
world’s response.
I am pretty sure that had I received this phone call I would
demand to know what right this woman had to lecture me about how many
children I can bring into the world, but this is why Sister Marriott is giving
talks in General Conference, and I am not.
I used the phrase “Mama Grizzly.” Michelle H. Bagley, in a
June 1999 Ensign article entitled
“Motherhood: A Partnership of Faith,” describes the natural protective desire
every mother and father have for their children, and, more importantly, who can
provide that protection:
“When our first child was born, I immediately
felt the need to protect her against any harm that might befall her. Before she
could crawl, I baby-proofed our home against anything dangerous. I covered
electrical outlets, locked up cleaning supplies, hid everything breakable, and
picked up anything she might put in her mouth. However, as she grew, and as we
added more children to our family, I found that I could only do so much to
ensure my children’s physical safety. My knowledge of the gospel assures me
that there is someone who loves our children even more than I do, and I
ask Him every day to watch over them. I may never know all the instances when
those prayers have been answered, but I have seen them answered enough to know
that my pleas for protection are not in vain.”
That phrase “there is someone who loves our children even
more than I do,” jumped out at me. It’s true. Our Heavenly Father knows each of
us, and has infinite compassion for us. He loves us more than we can
understand. We should not be fooled by the fact that we now work out our
salvation in this world of trial, suffering, injustice and hardship. A few
months ago Jim Dart introduced me to the phrase “Telestial
mugging,” and that’s what we are getting here, in a world far from Celestial
glory. But we’re really here out of an act of love. We are not earthly beings
here at church to get a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings here to
get an earthly experience. And one of the heaven-sent things to help us to
endure the worst of what we have to endure are
mothers, who possess a special compassion.
When I used to teach Sunday School classes to ward
teenagers, I told them that, as a response to nearly any question posed to them
in our Christ-centered church, if they could somehow work in our Savior Jesus
Christ in the answer, they wouldn’t be far wrong. So if the question is asked
on this Mother’s Day, (1) How are mothers important in
the church? (2) How are mothers important in society? (3) Why is motherhood so
important generally? It all comes down to service. Mothers serve – and
sacrifice. They are available to their children 24 X 7, and give up their time,
their hobbies, their careers, their trim, youthful figure and, sometimes, in
the case of my grandmother Delia, their lives. There is no service or sacrifice
more Christlike than that. Being a mother means
playing an active role as a creator of life and experiencing celestial attributes
here on earth.
In a talk entitled “Motherhood: An Eternal Partnership With God,” Jeffrey R. Holland said,
The work
of a mother is hard, too often unheralded work. Please know that it is worth it
then, now, and forever. One young mother wrote to me recently that she felt
like the world expected her to teach her children reading, writing, interior
design, Latin, calculus, and the internet all before the baby said something
terribly ordinary like goo goo. She worried because
she felt she didn't measure up or somehow wasn't going to be able to be equal
to the task: the mental investment, the spiritual and emotional exertion, the
long night/long day stretch to the limit, and demands that sometimes are
required in trying to be and wanting to be the mother God hopes she will be.
But one
thing, she said, keeps her going. I quote, "Through the thick and the thin
of this and through the occasional tears of it all, I know deep down inside I
am doing God's work. I know that my motherhood is an eternal partnership with
Him." Mothers, cherish that role that is so uniquely yours and for which
Heaven itself sends angels to watch over you and your little ones.
Yours
is the work of salvation, and therefore you will be magnified, compensated,
made more than you are, better than you are, better than you've ever been. … We
thank all of you and tell you there is nothing more important in this world
than participating so directly in the work and glory of God. May I say to
mothers collectively, in the name of the Lord, you are magnificent.
You are doing terrifically well. The very fact that you've been given such
responsibility is everlasting evidence of the trust your Father in Heaven has
in you.”
I cannot go without mentioning two mothers I am very
familiar with on a day-to-day basis: my wife Cari and
my daughter-in-law Sarah. Both have modeled and do model Christlike
behavior and standards, and both are excellent mothers. I am indeed fortunate
to have had Cari as my children’s mother.
Many years ago, when my son Ethan was a teen, we had to pick
up some things at the Scouting store in
I want to introduce you to my other grandchildren, because
you cannot have a conversation with a person my age without also hearing about
the grandchildren.
My daughter Julie – whom some of you remember – is an
enthusiastic Mom living in
Family is so important! Here’s a quote from Ben Stein, a man
who is not a General Authority, but nevertheless makes a wise observation. It’s
about fatherhood, but applies equally to motherhood: Quote - "Being a
Daddy is priority number one. When you are old and facing oblivion in a nursing
home or a hospital or on a golf course in winter, you are not going to wish you
had spent more time at the office or making a sales call or watching a show.
You will wish you had spent more time with your family." Unquote. This is so true!
Happy Mother’s Day, to all of you, whether
you had a heavenly angel mother or some other kind. And if
you are not a mother now, reflect that our Heavenly Father wants all of his
children to have all of the blessings they are entitled to – and this life is but
a very small segment of a far larger line of pre-existence and post-mortal
eternity. The best is yet to come!
Consider also these words of Neill F. Marriott, whom I
quoted earlier: “Mothers literally make
room in their bodies to nurture an unborn baby—and hopefully a place in their
hearts as they raise them—but nurturing is not limited to bearing children. Eve
was called a “mother” before she had children. I believe that “to mother” means
“to give life.” Think of the many ways you give life. It could mean giving
emotional life to the hopeless or spiritual life to the doubter. With the help
of the Holy Ghost, we can create an emotionally healing place for the
discriminated against, the rejected, and the stranger. In these tender yet
powerful ways, we build the
Happy Mothers’ Day!
I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.