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 kingdom of God will fail.”

In the United States, motherhood was once universally honored, and I grew up in such a society. But, by the false doctrine spread about by Satan, things have since taken a weird direction. In her recent conference talk entitled “What Shall We Do?,” Neill F. Marriott, the Second Counselor in the Young Women General Presidency, described a jaw-droppingly odd telephone conversation. I quote:

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 Bethesda.  Arriving at the entrance, we spotted a young man in a scouting uniform, sitting on a picnic table smoking a cigarette. My wife found this objectionable, and walking up to him, asked him if he was of the proper age to smoke and did he realize that his smoking in that uniform just looked wrong? As it turned out, the young man was of age, and told us that the store allowed employees to smoke while on breaks. My son, however, was acutely embarrassed at his mother’s forward behavior with a stranger, and wanted to disappear down a hole in the ground or hide behind some tree. I laughed and told him that, as outrageous as this might seem to him, he will likely seek out a woman who shares his mother’s attributes for a wife of his own. He looked at me as if I just told him that space aliens had taken up residence in his bedroom. Nevertheless, I can state that his wife Sarah, mother to Gibson and Hudson, is indeed one of those Steel Magnolias you hear about. Like my wife Cari, she may be kind, but do not suppose she will bend in matters of importance. And I will allow Sarah to fill you in about her mother – another formidable woman – in some future mother’s day sacrament talk.

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 Boise, Idaho. She and her husband have two kids, Birdie and Jay. Julie once told us that all she ever wanted to be is a wife and a mother, and we are delighted with that attitude and with the photos and videos she sends by text message or posts on Facebook. Our youngest daughter Meredith is now due with her first child, which could arrive any day. We know it’s a girl, and her name will be Ruby. Meredith, her husband and Ruby make their home in Murray, Utah. So our five collective grandchildren are Gibson, Hudson, Birdie, Jay and Ruby – a fun gaggle of kids! And we think it’s notable that the first grandchild, Gibson, was born on my mother’s birthday, June 18th. We think it’s because she delayed him and arranged for this so she’d be remembered – as if anyone could forget her. We visit our western grandchildren later this month, and after we do I will once again be thankful for the eternal, holy calling of motherhood in the lives of my kids, and grandparenthood in my life and in Cari’s life.

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 kingdom of God.”

Happy Mothers’ Day!

I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.