Today I was listening to LDS General Conference. I found myself pondering the role of motherhood in today’s world. Across all cultures and ethnicities, is there a universal rule for being a good mother? In the words of inspired seers and revelators, I pondered the following:
The kind of mother I want to be instills in her children a sense of identity and divine destiny, relating to a father in heaven who loves and knows them.
The kind of mother I want to be inspires and leads her children to be spiritually self-reliant.
The kind of mother I want to be leads a home of learning, and is a gospel teacher.
The kind of mother I want to be prays for things of eternal consequence.
The kind of mother I want to be inspires good habits in her children.
The kind of mother I want to be doesn’t reserve the “leftovers” of herself for her family.
I am grateful that my mother has been all of these things to me. I marvel at her strength and her finesse at motherhood. I am grateful that she prepared for this divine role long before she knew me. I’ve observed her faith in my lifetime: watched it grow from something small to something mighty; though her faith in me has never changed, as she has taught and encouraged me to be spiritually self-reliant. As I’ve grown into a woman, her counsel has kept me safe, never doubting her love for me.
I admire my mother’s example as a covenant daughter of God. I love that she is unwavering in her obedience to the commandments. I love that she serves others and loves others with might. I love that she turns to her Father in Heaven in times of heartbreak. I love that whenever I have a lesson to to teach, or a talk to give, the things she has taught me are the first things I refer to when I prepare. I love that she has the most fun when she’s doing things for other people. I love that she rejoices in the success of others and teaches me to do likewise.
Most of all I love that my mother hopes for things that seem impossible. She doesn’t worry about reciprocation or about my own insecurities. Her faith exceeds my conception of “self” as only a mother’s can.