Yesterday I picked up 7 dozen roses that we (the young men and leaders) distributed today to the women in the ward after Sacrament Meeting. The cashier, when I brought up all those roses asked, “How many mothers do you have?” I replied, “A lot.” I also overheard the woman in line behind me make a comment about the lucky mom getting all those roses. While it would have been great to give my mother 7 dozen roses, most of the women and mothers in our ward only got a single rose.
After the question yesterday – “How many mothers do you have?” – I started wondering, “How many mothers do I have?” The correct answer is “a lot.” Not only do I have my own wonderful mother, I have a mother-in-law, I have older sisters who have been like mothers to me in their own ways, I have generations of mothers on back for thousands of years (see this post for some of my mothers back a few generations).
In addition to specific mothers, there are general and stereotypical mothers. In 1973, then Elder Thomas S. Monson gave an address in General Conference entitled Behold Thy Mother. He tells of four such general mothers:
- Mother forgotten
- Mother remembered
- Mother blessed
- Mother loved
He said, “‘Mother forgotten’ is observed all too frequently. The nursing homes are crowded, the hospital beds are full, the days come and go—often the weeks and months pass—but mother is not visited. Can we not appreciate the pangs of loneliness, the yearnings of mother’s heart when hour after hour, alone in her age, she gazes out the window for the loved one who does not visit, the letter the postman does not bring. She listens for the knock that does not sound, the telephone that does not ring, the voice she does not hear. How does such a mother feel when her neighbor welcomes gladly the smile of a son, the hug of a daughter, the glad exclamation of a child, ‘Hello, Grandmother.’
“There are yet other ways we forget mother. Whenever we fall, whenever we do less than we ought, in a very real way we forget mother.”
May we have no forgotten mothers in our lives! Maybe we don’t forget our own mothers or our grandmothers but do we forget our great-grandmothers on back through the generations? Are there mothers waiting for us to remember them or to find them? Do we have mothers waiting for us to perform the necessary gospel ordinances in the temple? Or, are there mothers around us – neighbors, friends, church members, strangers – who have been forgotten. Do we reach out of our comfort zones and seek out the lonely? Do we seek to remember these forgotten mothers?
Of mother remembered Elder Monson said,
“As a boy, I well remember Sunday School on Mother’s Day. We would hand to each mother present a small potted plant and sit in silent reverie as Melvin Watson, a blind member, would stand by the piano and sing, ‘That Wonderful Mother of Mine.’ This was the first time I saw a blind man cry. Even today, in memory, I can see the moist tears move from those sightless eyes, then form tiny rivulets and course down his cheeks, falling finally upon the lapel of the suit he had never seen. In boyhood puzzlement I wondered why all of the grown men were silent, why so many handkerchiefs came forth. Now I know. You see, mother was remembered. Each boy, every girl, all fathers and husbands seemed to make a silent pledge: ‘I will remember that wonderful mother of mine.’”
Remembering our mothers can bring solace and peace. In dark moments or in times of temptation or in the good and happy times of our lives, remembering our mothers can bring us comfort. There are mothers who are absent, there are mothers who are abusive, there are mothers who might even best be forgotten, but I think most mothers are best remembered. Mothers are not perfect, mothers do make mistakes, but motherhood is a divine calling and blessing that comes with the blessings of the Lord. The Lord can make up for shortcomings. There are hard days and sleepless nights; there are rings around rosies and rings under eyes; there are baths and diapers and vomit and tears; there are hugs and kisses and giggles and tickles; there are songs and swings and dances and strings; there are little hands clasped in steadying mother’s hands; there are skips and jumps and laughs and loves. These are things that build memories in both mother and child. It is that foundation that gives such strength and comfort to those who have their own mother remembered.
I’ll quote at length for the next mother – mother blessed.
Now that we have considered ‘mother remembered,’ let us turn to ‘mother blessed.’ For one of the most beautiful and reverent examples, I refer to the holy scriptures.
In the New Testament of our Lord, perhaps we have no more moving account of ‘mother blessed’ than the tender regard of the Master for the grieving widow at Nain.
‘And it came to pass … that he went into a city called Nain; and many of his disciples went with him, and much people.
‘Now when he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow: and much people of the city was with her.
‘And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not.
‘And he came and touched the bier: and they that bare him stood still. And he said, Young man, I say unto thee, Arise.
‘And he that was dead sat up, and began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother.’ (Luke 7:11–15.)
What power, what tenderness, what compassion did our Master and exemplar thus demonstrate. We, too, can bless if we will but follow his noble example. Opportunities are everywhere. Needed are eyes to see the pitiable plight, ears to hear the silent pleadings of a broken heart. Yes, and a soul filled with compassion that we might communicate not only eye to eye or voice to ear, but in the majestic style of the Savior, even heart to heart. Then every mother everywhere will be ‘mother blessed.’
We have great opportunities to bless the lives of mothers everywhere. We can do it by honoring our own mothers. We can bless others by blessing as mothers would. We can go out of our way to do good to all around us, particularly mothers and particularly widowed mothers. There have been few people I think, who have cared about widows as much as Pres. Monson does.
Now for the final of then Elder Monson’s mothers – mother loved.
The holy scriptures, the pages of history are replete with tender, moving, convincing accounts of ‘mother loved.’ One, however, stands out supreme, above and beyond any other. The place is Jerusalem, the period known as the Meridian of Time. Assembled is a throng of Roman soldiers. Their helmets signify their loyalty to Caesar, their shields bear his emblem, their spears are crowned by Roman eagles. Assembled also are natives to the land of Jerusalem. Faded into the still night, and gone forever are the militant and rowdy cries, ‘Crucify him, crucify him.’
The hour has come. The personal earthly ministry of the Son of God moves swiftly to its dramatic conclusion. A certain loneliness is here. Nowhere to be found are the lame beggars who, because of this man, walk; the deaf who, because of this man, hear; the blind who, because of this man, see; the dead who, because of this man, live.
There remained yet a few faithful followers. From his tortured position on the cruel cross, he sees his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing by. He speaks: ‘… woman, behold thy son! Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother! …’ (John 19:26–27.)
From that awful night when time stood still, when the earth did quake and great mountains were brought down—yes, through the annals of history, over the centuries of years and beyond the span of time, there echoes his simple yet divine words, ‘Behold thy mother!’
I echo Elder Monson’s words as he echos the Savior: “Behold thy mother!” Whether our mothers are living or deceased, may we take more time to behold, to remember, bless, and love our mothers. May we never forget our mothers and may we remember the mothers who have been forgotten. I’m grateful for my own wonderful mother. She is a woman strengthened by her faith in God, a faith she helped pass on to me. This is a legacy of faith that I am striving to pass on to my own children with the help of my beautiful wife, the mother of our children.
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