Mormon Mothering Moments

In Whom She Has Trusted

2009-04-01T20:46:00.000-07:00

My ten year old daughter, Savannah, has had difficulty staying in her bed at night. "I just don't like being alone," is her best verbal offering, despite the fact she's been in her own room since age two. Why the sudden angst with my most independent child?

At least 20 mornings last month I was waking to find her either cuddled (more like smashed) between me and the nightstand...OR crammed in with little bro in his twin bed. Seven-year-old Sunshine Sawyer was much more of a sport about it than Daddy and I.

Two weeks ago, plagued by kinked neck #10, I decided it was Intervention Time. A sleeping-all-by-herself chart was created -incentives attached- and she seemed determined. After an earnest bedtime prayer and my best "YOU choose to cast out your own fears" motivational speech, I sat on the edge of her bed, held her hand, and looked deeply into her royal blue eyes. "You can do this," I assured her. "You are so much stronger than you think, sweetie." A look of sudden knowing passed over her countenance and she said to me, "'Night, Mommy."

So...I walk away...and I'm thinking to myself...as I strut down the hall, "Hey," (side click of the mouth; one eyebrow raised; head cocked to the side), "I reeeally got through to my kid." Yeah! I'm big. I'm bad. I'm...absolutely clueless.

I was giving her assurances of her own strength, but she knew where it originated. I sauntered into her room at midnight, and with a lump in my throat, beheld the following scene:
My mother gave this picture to Savannah at her baptism and it's always seemed to hold personal significance to her. "Buzzy Boo" (the fave stuffed tiger) is crushed against her, but she walked all the way across her room that night to get this picture of the Savior off her dresser.

So she could hold onto Him.

I praised her the next morning for knowing in whom she has trusted, and thanked her for teaching me about courage. Beaming, she says to me, "Mom, I felt like He was with me last night."

Sleeping by herself hasn't been much of a problem since. We both know she's not reeeeally sleeping alone after all.

Here are some shots I took of Savannie (in her awake state!) today. I caught her exuding pure joy at her reflection in the mirror (When was the last time I did THAT?)

12 Reasons to Learn at the Feet of the Army of Helaman

2008-11-10T20:11:00.000-08:00

My oldest, my #1 son...my firstborn in the wilderness (does 40 hours of labor count as the wilderness?) just turned twelve. Wiped a tear from my eye -heart swelling with pride- as my Noah marched up on the stand and served his bishop the emblems of the sacrament for the first time. And in the next breath I winced as he forgot his "route" and had to hang out at the sacrament table until further notice. (For the record, the wincing and crying has continued in periodic bursts since my little buddy has crossed over)... Too cool for Primary, too geeky for Young Mens. Such is the plight of a deacon in transition.

I hate to admit this, but over the years my "deacon watching" has been a source of entertainment during sacrament time. Those awkward, sweet, bumbling 12 and 13 year-olds... gotta love 'em. As a college student and missionary (and younger mom), I'd think to myself, "When MY son is a deacon his hair will not look like he took the palm of his hand and plastered it from his crown to his brow bone." "When MY son is a deacon, he will not look all clumsy and timid and self-conscious." "MY son will be absolutely brimming with the confidence I've instilled in him and will walk tall and look all composed and Priesthood-ish." Um, yeah. A) Can you say PRIDE? and B) There's this little Eternal Principle that needs to distill upon my child as the dews from heaven called "Line Upon Line," not to mention C) Wasn't I supposed to be concentrating on Christ during the passing of the Sacrament?

Let the humbling begin. My son Noah has always been good at awakening me to my awful situation. I dare say the wisdom he's innately held, from birth on, makes my feeble attempts at "getting it" seem laughable. Like most of his generation, he's not stressing out at the level his mother is, and calmly reminds me (if only by his demeanor) that the time is too short to sweat the small stuff. Truth be told, he DOES walk taller (than me) he does have more composure (than me), and he most definitely is all priesthood-ish. I perceived his childlike submission to be a lack of confidence...when in fact, his is the Godly kind.

A certain scripture comes to mind, as I contemplate how a righteous Priesthood warrior holder really should carry himself:
D&C 121: 36-37
"That the rights of the priesthood are inseparably connected with the powers of heaven, and that the powers of heaven cannot be controlled nor handled only upon the principles of righteousness...when we undertake to cover our sins or to gratify our pride, our vain ambition, or to exercise control or dominion or compulsion upon the souls of the children of men, in any degree of unrighteousness, behold, the heavens withdraw themselves; the Spirit of the Lord is grieved; and when it is withdrawn, Amen to the priesthood or the authority of that man."

...and I might add, Amen to the authority of this woman. There are many lessons to be learned from watching a deacon...those struggling stripling soldiers in our modern-day Army of Helaman. My past moments of amusement with -and judgment of- these little warriors has been replaced with a newfound sense of awe and respect.

And so in honor of my Noah and lessons learned from him continuing to raise me, I have come up with Twelve Reasons to Learn at the Feet of Our Children:
1) Your child (depending on how old you were at his or her birth) has received at least 20 more years of premortal training than you did. In my youngest's case, 32. (Isn't that the equivalent of like 4 PhD's?)

2) Your child's spirit could be older than yours. We only know who the Firstborn was, and beyond that, heavenly birthorder remains one of His mysteries. Quite possibly, we are raising little Ancient Ones.

3) Your child holds unique gifts that weren't as "needed" in your time, and maybe didn't even exist. His or her training was specific to this generation, and to the exponential growth and "speeding up" of the Earth. (Case in point: how long does it take YOU to figure out computer and techno-stuff vs. THEM)?

4) Your child's spirit realizes there is much to be done in very little time. The urgent sense of mission inherent in their generation manifests itself as hyperactivity, hypersensitivity, and multi-sensory perception. Not necessarily ideal traits in a kid, but once they grow into themselves (even if it isn't until the Millennium)...watch out.

5) Your child cannot understand (nor tolerate) hypocrisy. The Sadducees and Pharisees wouldn't stand a chance - your kid would see through them just as they see through you. (It's not like they expect perfection in their mother, only that she walks her talk).

6) Your child's specific core spirit personality has been sent directly to you as a divine tutorial. Whatever you're weak in, they will magnify it, simply by being who they are. (A beautiful opportunity for you to open the windows of awareness and healing that you've closed in the past).

7) Your child cares less about appearances and more about acceptance. (And how contrary is THAT to how the "natural woman" wants to parent?)

8) Your child will almost always look, think, feel and act differently than you expect. If they were the living embodiment of your dream child, how could the divine mandate of opposition in all things be fulfilled to help each of you grow? (Paralleling that, the Spirit almost always prompts us to do something different than we were setting out to do. Parenting this generation, whose personalities are so foreign to our understanding and comprehension, is a bold walk of sheer faith).

9) Your child is a master at living in the Present. (I believe if you live by the Spirit -in the moment- with a child, you will learn to walk the roads of your highest good).

10) Your child is helping to raise the light levels of this Earth in preparation to receive the Savior. If your child was not here, the light level would decrease that much more. (And to think...the Lord has trusted YOU to help sustain that light as his or her earthly steward)!

11) Your child's love and acceptance of you, and of all people, is pure and holy. There is a simpleness, a tenderness that resides in their little hearts which holds supreme healing powers. (If you look into their eyes long enough and deep enough, you will discover everything that really matters, and every mystery revealed. Divine Order manifests itself plainly every time one gazes upon a child).

12) Your child (to quote Jesus Christ) is "the greatest in the kingdom of heaven."

2008-09-11T20:43:00.000-07:00

I am an anomaly among LDS moms who are approaching the (big?) "four-oh."
Enter sacrament meeting, stage left and ten minutes late: 2 boys, their sis, and parents who quickly steer offspring to the cultural hall fold-up chairs (lamenting we missed our chance for the pews ONCE AGAIN). That's us...the ever-so-late-even-though-we-don't-have-babies-or- toddlers-to-get-ready-for-church Burton family.

NOW..my anomalous status isn't due to being relentlessly late for church (isn't this an understood prerequisite in Mormondom?) or that my 7, 9 and 11 year-olds should have better training at my hands in getting ready, mooey-pronto. It's that I can't even appreciate the cultural hall outer darkness we've been banished to, all ripened in snacks and sippee cup iniquity. You see, I've no toddler who can chuck Cheerios on that ripe domain...and further, I only have three, all of whom feel Cheerios are now beneath them.

There, I said it. Only three. (Standing now, with microphone) "My name is Cherie, and I'm a Mormon Mother of Three." (Hi, Cherie)

Hi. Doesn't 3 represent "incomplete" somewhere in the annals of LDS Parenthood Culturally-Correctness? All I know is at Education Week I learned that 7 symbolizes "complete" in the scriptures. You know, Seven Seals, Seventh Day God Rested...Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (wait...wrong reference). Seriously though, anything less than 4 children for a 39 year-old active LDS stay-at-home mom such as myself seems, well - culturally incorrect. Or at very least incomplete.

After my youngest hit about 4 and #4 was nowhere in sight, I found myself trying to come up with the most spiritually enlightening comeback to the "Wonder why she only has 3..." looks or the ever-so-subtle "So, are you guys done?" probes. I never came up with anything terribly profound, just the run-of-the-mill, "The Lord hasn't blessed us with any more." Then I finally stopped trying to justify, explain or even worry about how our brood was being perceived. After all, He knows my heart - how in its deepest recesses lies a longing to nurture and love more than the three I've been given. How I've grieved over the ones I've lost and yearn for those I see waiting in the wings. Another story.

JUST to debunk any preconceived ideas about equating numbers of children with levels of spirituality:
President Uchtdorf: 2 children
Elder Bednar: 3 children
President Monson: 3 children
Sister Chieko Okazaki: 2 children
Sister Ardeth Kapp: 0 children
Sister Sheri Dew: 0 children

Check out this quote by Brigham Young: "Many of the sisters grieve because they are not blessed with offspring. You will see the time when you will have millions of children around you. If you are faithful to your covenants, you will be the mothers of nations. You will become Eves to earths like this, and when you have assisted in peopling one earth, there are millions of others still in the course of creation. And when they have endured a thousand million times longer than this earth, it is only as it were the beginning of your creation. Be faithful and if you are not blessed with children in this time, you will be hereafter." (Deseret News, Vol. 10, p. 306, October 14, 1860)

Whoa. Guess I need some extra prep time to learn how to handle ka-jillions. For now, I'll stick with my three...and my sister Robin's two...and my sister Taunia's three...and my late sister Shawna's five...and my brother Ryan's two...and the friends of my children...and the children of my friends...and the Primary classes I sub for...and the flag football team my husband coaches...and the 6th grade class I volunteer with...and the 4th grade class...and the 2nd grade class...

Are we not all mothers in Zion, as Sheri Dew reminds us? Are we not all mothers to every child who crosses our paths? I believe we are. Are our lives unfolding with perfect order, the seasons and habitations of our progenitors being managed by the wisest organizers in the cosmos? I believe they are. And this knowledge gives me the confidence I need to wade through the Cheerios into the cultural hall abyss. Late.