When my mother was my age, she went through a lot of the same things I have had to go through as a young adult, surprisingly enough. The unfortunate part for her was her mother had already passed away by the time she was my age. So, during those especially difficult times when I called my mother nearly every day, she had no mother to call. Yet, she remained strong in her faith and unshaken in her beliefs. That is strength. That is my mother.
When I lived at home, I became the 'ward babysitter' almost every Friday and/or Saturday night. Every night, when I would walk through the front door, she would still be up, just waiting for me to come home. It didn't matter is it was 10pm or 1:30am, she was always there, sitting at the kitchen table, patiently and lovingly waiting. That is patience. That is my mother.
Whenever I would stay home from school and during the summer months, I would witness my mother's daily scripture study. Every day, without fail, she would sit down and search the scriptures diligently, sometimes watching TV clips of BYU professors discussing doctrine and script, and other times referring to our modern prophets for clarity and guidance. Her scriptures are marked through without cross references, inserts, significant passages, and modern parallels. That is diligence. That is my mother.
When my mother had a calling in church, she magnified it to the fullest. I remember her service in the Relief Society Presidency and helping her to make welcoming gift bags for the young women who turned 18. I remember her service as a visiting teacher and going to visit the sweet sisters which she watched over and cared for. Even now, as the primary chorister, she spends time each week, preparing for the music which she will share with the tender spirits of children and the simple truths she will teach them. That is dedication. That is my mother.
Each week, my mother writes an old fashioned pen-to-paper letter. And each week, she sends it to her brother. She never receives a letter in response, never a phone call, never an email, but she continues to write. She tells him about our family, and their siblings, keeping him updated on all the news and happenings. The last time she saw her brother was when their older brother passed away, almost five years ago. At that visit, she saw that her letters were indeed reaching their destination and they were very much appreciated. She hasn't heard from him since, but she continues to write. Still no responses, and still no confirmation of receipt. That is unconditional love. That is my mother.
When I was born, my grandmother had long since passed away. Growing up, my mother would tell me countless stories about my grandmother; her likes, her personality, her character, her appearance. I feel as if even though I haven't met my grandmother on this Earth I truly do know her and I can't wait to meet her one day. My mother, in anticipation of this day, has helped me to get to know my grandmother and recognize her spirit. That is hope. That is my mother.
A few words about mothers from songs:
"Her plea to the father quiets all my fears"1
"I know a ... glorious name, dearer than any other ... it is the name of mother."2
"Dear mother, all flowers remind me of you"3
"I learn how to love them, dear Mother, from you."3
"Your happy smiling face is such a joy to look at."4
"I'm so glad he gave me you." 4
"We like to help mother 'cause we all love her so."5
Like sunshine in the morning, that wakens day from night,
Like flowers in the springtime, so colorful and bright,
Like happy songs of bluebirds, that fill the air with cheer,
A person bright and lovely is my mother dear.
-- My Mother Dear, Becky-Lee Hill Reynolds
Songs quoted in order: 1-Love is Spoken Here, 2-The Dearest Names, 3-I Often Go Walking, 4-Mother Dear, 5-When We're Helping
