Today’s guest post is from Chelsey, who has neither hot nor cold feelings for Mothers Day; although, she sometimes wishes that more women spoke in church on that day. She thinks they would be more interesting and less inclined to make it all rainbows and unicorns. She does understand the desire to give women the day off, so it’s a toss up. Chelsey has been a mother for seven, lightening-fast years, and still, apparently, has a lot to learn. She blogs at: http://www.penelopespad.
I am the 1st Counselor in our ward’s Young Women Presidency. Last week I went to a fireside. While I was gone, you broke your arm. Unable to get a hold of me, your Dad prepared to take you, your three younger brothers and your sister to the emergency room.
A couple from our ward walked by as he was getting you all in the car, and offered to watch the other kids. Your Dad was free to take just you, and I relieved them when I got home.
This couple now adores you and your little brothers and sister because of the service they gave to us.
This week, after you go to bed and are sleeping, I will: visit teach three sisters, organize and attend a combined activity for the Young Men and Young Women, and go to a stake leadership meeting.
I hate it because I was gone last week when you were hurt, and now I will be gone again.
I hate it because my most dreaded task in the whole entire world is to make phone calls, and I will need to make many this week.
I hate it because after a long day of caring for you and your brothers and sister, I need some quiet time. Alone.
I hate it because I will have very little time this week to do things that I want to do — just for me.
I hate it because I know that at the end of the week, I will be very tired, and most likely impatient, and probably snappy. The house might not be very clean, and I probably won’t feel like playing.
I hate it because I would like to be able to do those things.
But, I will do it.
I will do it because when I went to my room this afternoon to cry and to pray and to seek counsel, I read President Monson’s talk.
I read about Laman and Lemuel murmuring, saying it was a hard thing that they had been asked to do.
I read about Nephi responding that he would go; he would do.
I read about a mortally wounded soldier, who dragged an even more mortally wounded soldier to safety, while whole men watched.
I read about President Monson, busy as Bishop and father and businessman, writing 23 personal letters every month to soldiers in the field, one of whom did not answer for 17 months.
He didn’t mention the widows this time, but I know about them.
As I read, I remembered that my number one goal is to guide you into righteous womanhood.
I remembered that the Lord is a better parent than I am, and that as I serve him, He will send his angels and servants to protect you and watch over you, like he did last week. He will enrich my relationship with you, and. He will give me the inspiration I need to better parent you.
I’ve chosen to have faith in those promises.
I wish that I could say that I’ll do it because I love the Lord and want to serve Him, but I’m not that far yet.
I’ll do it because I love you, Ruby.