My Mother's Legacy

The last thing I told my mother before her death nearly eight years ago was that I loved her and that as long as we (her children and grandchildren) lived, she would live because she lived in us. I was thinking of DNA at the moment (or was I even thinking at all?), but this morning chromosomes and genes seem inadequate to describe the essence of a person and the legacy she/he leaves.

This past weekend I had the opportunity to get together with my sister, two brothers, their wives, two nephews, and my sweet niece, Sarah Beth. It was Family Day at Gardner-Webb, so the older generation joined the younger crowd to tour the campus, share a tasty brunch, hang out together at my nephews’ house, and spend some time catching up with each other’s lives. My favorite spots on campus were the chapel where we heard a young woman practicing her organ playing and the library where SB bought her aunt a book (more on this later). Our afternoon was sweetened by the pound cake and two pies baked by my sisters-in-law, tasty desserts we sampled around the kitchen table as the “menfolk” watched the Clemson game. The beautiful goldenrod blooming in a ditch outside of John and Chris’ house added just the perfect touch. My mother would have loved and appreciated that.

Why am I blogging about this? Because our day together reinforced the importance and connections of families. It’s been my observation that women are the “kinkeepers,” and I hope the gals in this picture will continue doing their dead level best to keep us connected and in touch. My mother, like “Mother Sarah,” would expect for us to continue in her absence, an absence that’s always present. By the way, it seems appropriate that the six of us were standing in front of a beautiful rose garden at GW because my mother LOVED flowers and had a gift for growing and arranging them.

For starters, I’m going to send my niece Sarah Beth, the youngest of the grandchildren, a card today. Maybe I’ll even slip a picture in it. Or better yet, some $$. That’s what her grandmother would have done.

Modern Day Eves

My daughter Carrie is the consummate wife and mother. She often bakes her own bread, sews pajamas for her little ones, prepares exquisite meals, chauffeurs her children to and from school and a host of other activities, and has a demanding church calling. She’s a gifted photographer, excellent writer, and faithful blogger. And did I mention that her husband is the bishop of their ward? And that she’s a stay-at-home mom? She is. And she’s remarkably good at it too. She has her “finger on the pulse” of everyone’s moods, proclivities, concerns, and needs. Warm and gentle, she can also turn into a strict disciplinarian when needed…and into a tigress if anyone says anything disparaging about her husband or children. In my somewhat biased opinion, she’s the perfect Mormon mom…and wife too.

I, on the other hand, worked full-time throughout the entirety of my children’s youth. Sure, I took time off for their deliveries but returned to work shortly thereafter. I hated leaving them when they were babies, and it still makes my heart hurt. Still, I tried not to think about it too much, for I could see that it was necessary. Time went by, and my little brood got older. Working didn’t seem so odious anymore. In fact, I rather enjoyed it and the “say-do” it gave me in our family’s financial decisions. I once read in a sociology text that women who didn’t work outside of the home were in the same position as unpaid servants. Not too desirable, I thought. I liked not having to ask for money or for permission to buy an occasional bauble. Plus, I know my husband appreciated that I was a helpmeet to him.

At home, I was a loving wife and mother-just like Carrie. I even went through a season of baking bread; I was fascinated with yeast and its powerful properties. Too, I loved the way baking bread made the house smell and the happiness it brought my family to taste the home baked bread. Although I wasn’t a gourmet cook like my daughter, I managed to prepare meals every night, and it was important that we eat together. I also went through a smocking stage, and my little girls were the most adorable ones in church with their little smocked dresses. I even smocked a couple of little outfits for Paul. Cross stitching, crewel, and candle wicking also had their season. As the children got older, I was their chauffeur and their biggest fan at dance recitals, church activities, and sporting events. In church together every Sunday, we were a model family.

Ah, in church. That’s where I got the most flak about being a working mother. I knew in my heart of hearts (whatever in heaven’s name that means) that my children “might” be better off if I’d been in the home 24/7. I knew that our church leaders encouraged moms to stay with their children during their formative years. I KNEW all of that, but it didn’t change our circumstances, and hearing it week after week was guilt producing and hurtful.

Why am I writing this? I think Kristi struck a responsive chord with her post. Hers was funny and made me chuckle. She’s a working mother too…and a good one. There are thousands and thousands of Jaynes and Kristis out there who are just doing the best we can to raise our families and make our way through this life and into the next one with our loved ones. There’s no one right way to do this.

Mary and Martha

I love it when my house is clean and orderly. When the beds are made, the furniture is dusted, and the dust bunnies have been vacuumed, a certain sense of “okayness” dwells within…within me and within my home. Add the fragrant scent of vanilla or cinnamon, and I feel inclined to relax, ponder, meditate, read, and in general, just de-stress. Add the aroma of some scrumptious goodies wafting from the kitchen, and it’s almost like heaven around here On the other hand, if there is clutter and confusion, then that’s how my mind and spirit feel: cluttered and confused. I feel restless, ill-at-ease, and jumpy. Unable to concentrate or find that inner stillness, I find myself jumping up to straighten, putter, and organize. I have a lot of Martha in me.

At the same time, I manage to find time each day to dip into the scriptures or some other spiritual readings. This morning I read an uplifting article in the Ensign about visiting teaching that gave me pause for thought. Throughout the day, I send up a few of what my friend Carol calls “sparrow prayers” in addition to the morning, evening, and mealtime prayers. I do my best to count my blessings, think charitable thoughts towards even the most trying of people (hard one), and demonstrate kindness and fairness. Do I fall short? As another friend, Shirley, would say, “You betcha.” Still, I try. I have some Mary in me too.

When I think of those two verses in Luke in which Christ is gently chastising Martha for being so busily involved in domestic activities and reminding her of the “better part,” I like to think that He’s reminding women everywhere of their priorities. We are spiritual beings having a physical experience, and He wants us to keep that in mind and to always seek to follow Him. At the same time, we live in the world, and that requires a certain amount of meal preparation, organization, and cleanliness.

I guess the key is in finding balance. Sometimes I’ve found that the very acts involved in “homecaring” can be soulful activities. As I’m putting my house in order, my mind and heart become calmer, more at peace.

Jochabed, Hannah, and Laresa

How must the mothers of Helaman's stripling young warriors have felt when their sons went off to battle? How about Jochabed when she put Moses in a basket in the Nile or Hannah when she took Samuel to Eli? Throughout the scriptures there are stories of mothers who basically turned their sons over to God to use for His purposes, and today I'm thinking of a modern day mother, Laresa, who said good bye to her son this morning. She joins mothers all over the world whose sons and daughters will be reporting to the MTCs in their areas this week to prepare for two-year missions.

Yesterday afternoon I attended a reception for Laresa's son Zachary, and as I watched his parents, especially his mother, I couldn't help but remember the way I felt five years ago when my son left on his mission. All of us were upbeat and happy at his farewell, and there was much laughter, conversation, and great food. Still, not even the sweet, rich, chocolately taste of the brownies could completely distract me from the angst I felt. I knew what was ahead of me (us), and I remember making a supreme effort to be peppy.

Here's my experience that I lifted right from Musings of a Missionary Mom. I hope it helps Laresa and Boyd a little. "Filled with emotions ranging from excitement and anxiety to deep sadness, I remember laughing at the crazy good bye handshakes that he shared with his buddies. Then there was the moment when I took him aside for one last “mom talk” before he left for Utah. Although I thought I was doing fine, a photograph taken by my daughter Elizabeth shows otherwise. What a crumpled up, tear- streaked face. Then came the moment when he walked through the turnstile and had to remove his shoes for security purposes. He smiled as if it say, “Yeah, well, what’s a body to do?”

I gulped. He was gone. Or no, there he was walking up the steps, grinning down at us through the palm trees. His father, more knowledgeable than I about the workings of the Myrtle Beach Airport, walked down a short nearby hallway for one last glance as Elder Crolley hustled toward the plane, turning to wave one last time.
Still reluctant to say good bye, we walked outside and waited for the plane to actually fly westward. There we stood on a small embankment, waving adios.

It was so hard to see him leave, despite the fact that I knew he was doing the Lord’s work and that my son would be in his Heavenly Father’s care. I also knew that EC would be back in SC in two years, and that he’d have left the Torreon Mission a better place. Still, with the hole in my heart and the ache in my chest, I missed him. I missed him and marveled at the love our Heavenly Father had for us, so much love that he sent his only begotten son to die for us."

Elder Campbell will be back in SC in two years, but the influence on the people of Arizona will go on and on. Just like the mothers we read about in the scriptures, Laresa has basically turned her son over to God in faith.

The Virtuous Woman

Anyone who knows me very well knows that one determining factor in my decision to join the LDS faith is the Relief Society, a worldwide women’s organization designed to provide relief for the needy and to bring people to Christ. In the late 1970’s I was on my way home after Sacrament meeting when a friend asked me to go to Relief Society with her. “What’s that?” I asked. Sarah simply said, “Come and see.” I did. Wow! I was “engaged” from the first moment. I’d never been to a meeting in which women from 18 to 100 (or even older) could and did attend. At that time we still had Cultural Refinement meetings, and that day the lesson was on Sri Lanka. HUH? I loved the idea that this was like school and church combined, the main difference being no tests.

Later that same summer, a young woman with a newborn baby came to my house and said that she was my visiting teacher. This seemed strange and wonderful at the same time. Here she was taking time from her busy schedule with her infant in tow to share a spiritual thought with me and see if there was anything I needed or that she could help me with. I knew from her spirit that she was sincere, and again I felt myself being drawn more towards this organization. Before Leann (I still remember her name) left, she shared this thought: A woman sets the emotional tone for the home. I was young, and that was news to me…good news, and news I’ve never forgotten. If Leann Bodine is out there in Blogland, I hope she reads this and knows that she everlastingly affected a sister and her family in Myrtle Beach nearly 30 years ago.

Years passed, and yet another influential sister moved into our ward. Truthfully, it wasn’t exactly “our” ward since I wasn’t a member, but I thought of it that way. By this time, I had a couple of children, and I could see how the church auxiliaries were blessing their young lives. Frances moved into our neighborhood, and she became my visiting teacher. Come rain or come shine, Frances would visit with a lesson, a laugh, a story, or a helping hand. I recall one hectic afternoon when I had come home from work with two little girls to occupy while I prepared dinner. Seeing that I couldn’t sit and talk, Frances came right into the kitchen and stirred my culinary concoctions on the stove while I tended to Carrie and Elizabeth’s immediate needs. Frances was (and still is) a powerful force for good in many people’s lives. So are Sarah, Dorothea, Cora Lee, Mary, Carol, Terri, Teri, Gail, and too many others to mention.

I hated to leave the beach area, but I did, and here in the midlands, I’ve found another group of sisters with strong testimonies and big hearts. This past Sunday, our Relief Society lesson was on visiting teaching, and to keep us mindful of our commitments, the Presidency gave us all a little souvenir and a reminder of how to live. The souvenir was a pretty to-do list, and we were encouraged to put “Be kind” at the top of our list each day. That might sound like a little thing to some people, but to me (and the people on my row), it’s a grand idea, especially since it goes with our motto, Charity Never Faileth.

One more story. Years ago I read an article in the Ensign that was based on journal entries from someone who lived years and years ago, probably in the 1800’s. When this person was a child, her family had to move away from friends, family, and familiar surroundings and relocate in a remote, cold, lonely, desolate place…or so it seemed to her. Tragedy befell the family in that one of her siblings died. The mother was distraught, and the sadness permeated the family and all of their activities. Nothing seemed right anymore, and they longed for their former associations.

One day, this little girl was looking out the window at the blanket of snow surrounding the modest home for as far as the eye could see. Conditions were brutal. As she stared at the horizon, she saw two figures trudging towards the house. On they came, slowly making their way, and suddenly the child realized who they were. Although she didn’t recognize their faces, she KNEW who they were: her mother’s visiting teachers. I don’t remember much else about this article, but I do remember how it ended. The writer said that even as a child, she had thought to herself, “What a church, what a church!”

It's an honor to be associated with so many women who exemplify the virtuous woman spoken of in Proverbs 31. While we're all far from perfect, it's wonderful to be associated with others who are also striving to be kind, love one another, and bring others unto Christ.

P.S. We have a lot of fun too, but that's a post for another day.

Bathsheba's Charm

I've been thinking about Bathsheba lately. Remember her? She's the woman David spotted while she was bathing on a rooftop and decided that he had to have her for himself. He was the king, and I imagine it would be both hard and foolhardy to deny the king. As a result of their union, Bathsheba conceived a baby. This is where the plot thickens, for you see, she was married to Uriah, one of David's soldiers who was off fighting a war.

To wiggle his way out of the dilemma, David arranged for Uriah to come home, thinking that he would sleep with his wife and thus provide a legitimate reason for her pregnancy. Uriah, however, had too much integrity for that, so the king actually gave orders to send him to the front of the battle hoping Uriah would be killed. The plan worked, and David and Bathsheba were free to marry without shame. No one would be the wiser, right?

But wait, God knew of David's wicked scheme. So did the prophet Nathan. Nathan came to David with a story involving a rich man and a poor man. The rich man had many flocks and herds while the poor man had only one little lamb whom he loved and nourished. The rich man took the poor man's lamb and killed and dressed it for a traveler and spared his own large flock. In telling the story, Nathan made David see that what he had done was the exact same thing. He, the rich king, had taken Uriah's only lamb, Bathsheba. Although David clearly saw his sin and felt sorrow, God was displeased and took the life of his and Bathsheba's child.

I've read this story many times, even studied it in Sunday school classes, but it was only recently that I began to empathize with Bathsheba. Why was she on the rooftop bathing instead of the privacy of her own home? I don’t know the answer to that, but I do know that this wasn’t done in broad daylight. I’m thinking that it was when everyone else was sleeping and that perhaps David was having a bout of insomnia that led him outside to overlook the rooftops of the city.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this except to say that Bathsheba, in my opinion, was not as culpable as the king, and yet she too had to pay a huge price: the death of her husband and of her son. That was somewhat of a revelation to me because previously I had erroneously thought that she and David were “partners in crime.”

My other revelation is that I sense that many, many young women don’t realize the effect they have on men when they dress in provocative ways. They are often simply following the fashion trends of the day and are not deliberately seeking the attention of males. I’m not saying all skimpily dressed women are ignorant of their charms because that’d be false. In fact, many are expert in exhibiting their feminine wiles and attributes to attract male attention.

Still, aren’t there some who are like lambs? Are there some women who are unaware of the sexual interest they attract, those who are sending out signals that they aren’t aware of? Are there times when women are taken advantage of by men who misread their signals?