I do not remember having much time with my mother when I was little, though I know that at that early age before memories become intact that she would have been mine, all mine. Here are a few of the things I do remember:
1. I remember a summer night lying on a blanket on the back lawn of our Lakewood Dr. home watching the stars together. I don't remember what we discussed, but I saw the heavens for the first time that night.
2. I remember when I was about seven or eight, Mother was trying to get breakfast on the table. I didn't have a chair at the table--no room--but had a chair next to a counter. I don't remember what my problem was, but I was up and causing some commotion. Mother pushed me back into my chair and told me to stay in my seat. The back of my head hit the edge of the counter and split open. Mother had to rush me to the hospital for stitches. My mother was never abusive, but had to endure questioning at the hospital about the injury.
3. I remember her cooking. She made venison pot roast that would rival dishes set before a king. She made fish fillets that rival anything from the fanciest restaurants. She would take Dad's catch and that of the children (a lot of fish, in other words) and fillet them, batter, and fry them. The kitchen table would have a steaming heap of fried fish, and huge pot of rice, and another of string beans. I would melt a large hunk of butter on my rice and string beans, squeeze lemon on the fish, and squirt La Choi on the rice. So, so good.
4. I do not remember being spanked by Mother, but I know that she did it. (Spanking duties usually fell to Dad.) She had a long handled brass candle snuffer that we children called the magic wand, because when mother waved her magic wand, we did whatever she asked.
5. I remember Mother reading chapter books to us when I was young. Her father used to bring a 100 lb bag of walnuts from California when he would visit. We would sit at the kitchen table and shell nuts while Mom read to us. I do not remember any of the books--one was something about tiger eyes, another about a pink motel mystery. We would earn Lifesavers books when we had shelled so many nuts. We worked like demons, and loved every minute of it.
6. Mother would also pay a nickel for me to pick raspberries. We also got a nickel for going through the fields and orchards that surrounded our home and gathering asparagus.
7. When I was about 11 or so, Mother was asked to substitute for my Sunday School class. We were a large class, and unruly. We went through eight teachers in as many months. I didn't think that I was misbehaving--I was unaware of the feelings of others. When I got home from Sunday School that day Dad quite literally threw me across the living room and warned me never to treat my mother that way again. I was confused at the time, but now understand perfectly what was going on. Mother had much more patience than Dad.
8. Some of my memories of Mother involve a lot of regret on my part. One occasion was Friday evening at the end of Scout Camp. The camp held a program and invited families to come. Mine came--something that I wasn't used to because the family was pulled in a lot of different directions. Following the program an announcement was made that refreshments (ice cream bars) would be had at each individual camp site. Of course my friends and I rushed off to the camp. Later I was curious why my family had not come up to the camp site. It never occurred to me that they would not know where it was if I didn't show them the way. Mother went home in tears that I had ignored the family. I was just a clueless boy. Dad, of course, scolded me properly for having made my mother cry.
9. When I was about 15, and coming into my growth, I left the house (without having done my chores) and headed next door to hang out with a friend. Mother caught me at the curb and began to read me the riot act. I was standing on the curb, and she was standing off of the curb, giving me an extra six inches on her. It was the first time that I realized how much bigger than her I was becoming. As she scolded, the thought went through my foolish head that there was no way on earth that she could make me do anything. The temptation to walk off mid-lecture was real. But for the first time, something inside of me knew that a deep and important bond would be broken if I did. I went home and did my chores.
10. Mother used to do her own appliance repairs. We couldn't afford to hire a repair man. Mother would check out a book from the library, tear into the dishwasher or clothes washer, find the problem, remove the worn out of defective part, pick up a new part from the store, install it, and return the appliance to service.
11. Mother received inspiration for her children. When I was about five years old I hooked up with a new best friend. Most of our play was wholesome and innocent, but some of it was not. My friend, I would come to learn over the years, was a victim of sexual abuse by a couple of older cousins (or uncles). My friend would act out with me things that he was learning at the hands of these teenaged boys. One day Mother told me about a dream that she had had. In the dream my friend and I were playing on the edge of a very dangerous cliff. I don't remember anything else about the dream, but even at five, I knew the interpretation of the dream. I was a victim of what we could call "second hand abuse/molestation." My friend would struggle with problems relevant to this throughout his youth. We often say in the Church that Satan cannot tempt little children. This is true, but he can get those in his service to mess with little children in terrible ways. My mother's dream was a great protection to me.
12. I didn't call my mother as often as I should have. But there has always been a deep and abiding connection between us. When I was working for SILO back in Orem Utah, I got a phone call from my sister, Lillian, telling me that Mother had been diagnosed with colon cancer. Since both of my grandmothers had died of this, I took it as a funeral announcement. I was not good on the sales floor for the rest of the day. Mother had half of her colon removed and survived another thirty plus years. Later she would be diagnosed with a bone cancer--a blood/bone cancer that would destroy her ability to produce red blood cells. She would have periodic transfusions the rest of her life.
13. I have followed in my mother's footsteps all of my life. She went back to college late and graduated with a degree in education. So did I. She taught in the public schools for many years. So have I. She left Utah Valley and moved to South West Missouri. So have I. She faced cancer with a determination to remain cheerful and useful. I am trying to do that too.
14. As a member of the bishopric, I was asked to invite my mother to speak in sacrament meeting. Her response was that if the Lord asked her to do it, He would giver her the strength to do it. We decided to wait until mother had a blood transfusion, since that is when her energy would be the highest. This meant that I would not be able to give family members much advance notice that Mother would be speaking. I got the call that Mother's transfusion was OK'ed and we made room for mother on the program that immediate Sunday. She was to be the "youth speaker." We asked her to take five minutes; she spoke for thirty-five. It was one of the best I've ever heard.
15. My mother had an unwavering testimony of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. I don't remember the words of it, but the sense of it lives in me. I could no sooner deny my testimony of the gospel than I could deny her. I remember as a boy seeing her and my father kneeling in prayer. When I was little she taught me to pray kneeling with me at my bedside every night. This didn't continue much past the age of five because Mother had other little hearts and hands to teach and instruct. Later as a teenager I went through a period of struggle as every teenager does. The habit of daily prayer that Mother taught me was life saving. Evening prayer is a time when the actions of the day come under examination. It is impossible to approach the throne of God without self evaluation--which sometimes makes prayer painful or difficult, or sometimes we may feel like quitting prayer all together. I could not do that, but felt sometimes unworthy to approach our Father in Heaven's throne. The internal conflict was real for me. The pattern of prayer taught by my mother would not give way. I decided that I should pray and ask God if it were right for me to pray when I felt unworthy. (I know that may seem odd, but for a fourteen year old boy, it was a very real concern.) I tried for two weeks to live as I knew that I should. I could not kneel at my bedside any more. Dad and built a triple bunk that my brothers and I shared. Howard and Sam slept together on the bottom, Joe in the middle, and I had the top bunk not any more than three feet from the celling. So I sat up in bed and asked Heavenly Father if it was right for me to pray when I felt unworthy. The answer was the most immediate I have ever had. I heard a voice tell me, "Yes, I love you," and at the same time was washed in the most powerful love I have ever felt.
Ultimately, what I remember about my mother is that her example and her guidance brought me to the Savior. I am sealed to her and to my father, and know that someday I will follow in her footsteps one more time.
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