Mom Post

Well it's Mother's Day, so I thought I'd put together a few of my most favorite things I thankful for about you, my Mother. (Anyone else who didn't get Mom something for Mother's Day may want to create a post as well.)  Having a child of my own has really opened up my eyes to the many sacrifices and blessings you have provided me.  First off, let me thank you for the hundreds of diapers you changed on my behalf in order to keep my bum fresh and clean.  I can't even imagine doing the clothe diaper thing, though I don't remember if this was still done on me or not.  Next comes the meals.  One of the things I hate most is to spend the time making a meal for Paxton only to have him turn his nose up and seal his lips shut.  I'm sure I did this as a child, but can definitely remember balking at some of the dinners Mom made for us as a kid and teenage.  I now realize how frustrating this can be and thank you Mom for all those meals that I didn't thank you for previously.  Then of course there's the chauffeuring.  I don't know how many times I got after Mom for being even a couple minutes late in picking me up or dropping me off.  As a kid I didn't think to consider that there's responsibilities other than taking care of my every need.  With all that you had to juggle, I thank you Mom for always being there and trying to make each of us feel special.  Having this last week away from Pax and Connie, I've come to realize how exhausting a time consuming a child can be.  And who can forget the relentless piano teaching.  I can remember blasting away over and over that stupid Wigwam song only to try to annoy you into letting me quit.  You endured a lot through those piano years, and though I have yet to thank you for the instruction (and will hold to the claim that I never will), I do thank you for your patience and longsuffering.

One final memory I wanted to share with you Mom is one that you may have forgotten, but still remains very dear to me.  I remember quite vividly a lesson taught in our Primary Class by a very stern and unique individual (I won't mention his name).  He hammered into our heads over and over that, "If you utter the words, 'I don't believe in Jesus Christ,' then you would go to hell."  I even remember him telling a story about a man having a gun pointed to his head and the shooter telling him to deny his belief in Christ or he would be killed.  I went home that day freaked out, but just like a kid being told not to throw rocks into the neighbors pool, I had to see what would happen if I did.  That night I remember being in bed (actually I was on those couch pillows sleeping in front of the fan in the hallway) and saying the words quietly under my breath, "I don't believe in Jesus Christ."  All of a sudden I was balling my eyes out.  I tried to take it back, prayed to say that I didn't mean it, even tried to sing primary songs, but nothing worked.  I thought for sure I was doomed to destruction and I was terrified.  It was at that point when I went and got Mom.  I told you what had happened, and together we knelt down and prayed in the living room.  I remember you told me everything was going to be ok, you told me that Heavenly Father still loved me, it was you who hugged me until I felt safe and loved once again.  Thank you Mom, for always being there.  Happy Mothers Day.