My Dear Angel Mother

This weekend I had the opportunity to spend time with my Mother. This is actually a rather rare thing, as she has lived in Montana (and more recently Idaho) for a little over half a decade, and I live here in Utah.

The last time I saw her was for a few short days when I returned from my mission, in which one-on-one time wasn't really possible due to time constraints and commitments leaving us pulled in several directions.

This weekend we kept things simple. She drove down, picked me up, we visited my sister for a short time, she dropped me off so that I could go to the wedding of a pair of returned missionary friends, then on Sunday she came to church with me and was able to attend most of the meetings we had that day.

Honestly, it was a very short time, but I am very much grateful.

Lately I have been reading about the prophets Mormon and Moroni, from The Book of Mormon. Mormon is a history-prophet who has been compiling the history, religious doctrine, and revelations that his people have received from God.

He does quite a bit of work, start to finish, resulting in, well, The Book of Mormon. The most important aspect of this work being that it is a witness of Jesus Christ coming to the ancient Americas after He was resurrected. He taught, administered ordinances, prayed for them and blessed them.

But Mormon's actual life is roughly four hundred years after that, and the glory days are over.

His people are at war with their enemies, and both sides are so incredibly wicked that Heavenly Father isn't going to help either one of them in their efforts. Not only that, but there's a curse mixed with a blessing that's been hanging over Mormon's people from the beginning, with his ancestor Lehi and their family: if they are righteous and keep the commandments, they will prosper in the land.

If they are wicked, they'll be utterly destroyed.

So they're getting utterly destroyed. And Mormon is there to witness it. Then, the sad but not entirely unexpected thing happens: Mormon is killed in battle. And his son, Moroni, has to finish the record.

Here's his very first entry:

"Behold I, Moroni, do finish the record of my father, Mormon. Behold, I have but few things to write, which things I have been commanded by my father.

And now it came to pass that after the great and tremendous battle at Cumorah, behold, the Nephites who had escaped into the country southward were hunted by the Lamanites, until they were all destroyed.

And my father also was killed by them, and I even remain alone to write the sad tale of the destruction of my people. But behold, they are gone, and I fulfil the commandment of my father. And whether they will slay me, I know not.

Therefore I will write and hide up the records in the earth; and whither I go it mattereth not.

Behold, my father hath made this record, and he hath written the intent thereof. And behold, I would write it also if I had room upon the plates, but I have not; and ore I have none, for I am alone. My father hath been slain in battle, and all my kinsfolk, and I have not friends nor whither to go; and how long the Lord will suffer that I may live I know not.

Behold, four hundred years have passed away since the coming of our Lord and Savior."

(Mormon Chapter 8, verses 1-6, The Book of Mormon) 

This is probably the saddest, most depressing entry in the entire Book of Mormon. And it pretty much breaks my heart every time.

His father, whom he loves dearly, has been killed. He is entirely alone. He has no where to go, and if he did go somewhere it wouldn't matter, because he's just going to be killed as well.

(Also, this is a great defense regarding The Book of Mormon not being solely written by one person, because if you compare writing styles between this father and son duo, they are completely different people.)

With this in mind, as I was reading the passage I had the thought:

How Would I Feel if My Mother was Killed?

The answer being that I would be absolutely heart-broken.

So (another story), when I was serving my mission as a full-time proselyting missionary, there is a time in which you go to a training center in order to learn the language of the place that you are heading for, and to help you learn how to prepare talks and teach people. Given that I went to Japan, I was there for nine weeks. I entered the Missionary Training Center in August of 2014. And not long after I got a note to go to the office and speak to those in leadership there.

I had the feeling that it was something serious, and my companion felt the same way. We'd missed the call to the office a couple of times, so it was a little late, but finally everything worked out where we could talk to someone official (I don't remember--that wasn't my focus at the time).

They broke the news to me that my mother had contracted cancer.

I broke. I simply...broke.

Upon being given a chance to call my mother, I immediately started crying. She, upset that they had broken the news to me rather than allowing her to do so, immediately began reassuring me.

She, who had cancer, was comforting me.

I don't remember everything she said, but what I do remember was certain promises and phrases:

The Lord would help us.

He loves us.

It's only a little bit of cancer.

and

Don't quit my mission because of this. She NEEDED both of her daughters to be serving missions (my younger sister was assigned to Louisiana), so that she could receive the blessings needed to help her survive this trial.

We were having our own trials, but this one was to be hers. And she wasn't alone in experiencing it.

The Lord has and always will be with our family.

There is a story (again) from The Book of Mormon in which a whole community of Lamanites, normally hostile to the Nephites, converted over to the gospel of Jesus Christ. These amazing, amazing converts gave up everything, including the weapons of war, as they covenanted to follow God and Jesus Christ.

But later when the Nephites and (hostile) Lamanites were at war, these Anti-Nephi-Lehites (that's their chosen name) felt so bad about their brethren, the Nephites, dying in the act of protecting them from the (hostile) Lamanites that they were about to take up their weapons again!

But doing so would put their souls in danger!

So their young sons, no older than 12-17 year olds, stepped forward to fight in the place (a la Mulan).

"And now I say unto you, my beloved brother Moroni, that never had I seen so great courage, nay, not amongst all the Nephites.

For as I had ever called them my sons (for they were all of them very young) even so they said unto me: Father, behold our God is with us, and he will not suffer that we should fall; then let us go forth; we would not slay our brethren if they would let us alone; therefore let us go, lest they should overpower the army of Antipus.

Now they never had fought, yet they did not fear death; and they did think more upon the liberty of their fathers than they did upon their lives; yea, they had been taught by their mothers, that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them.

And they rehearsed unto me the words of their mothers, saying: We do not doubt our mothers knew it."

(Alma 56:45-48)

After this battle, and other battles to come, the Lord blessed both these young men because of their faith, and the faith of their fathers and especially their mothers:

"And now it came to pass that when they had surrendered themselves up unto us, behold, I numbered those young men who had fought with me, fearing lest there were many of them slain.

But behold, to my great joy, there had not one soul of them fallen to the earth; yea, and they had fought as if with the strength of God; yea, never were men known to have fought with such miraculous strength; and with such mighty power did they fall upon the Lamanites, that they did frighten them; and for this cause did the Lamanites deliver themselves up as prisoners of war."

(Alma 56:55-56) 

This scripture is what went on my business card when I was in Japan, upon introducing myself to others. This is the scripture that got me through the REALLY hard times.

I love my mom and I am SO grateful for a second chance with her. I'm glad that Heavenly Father gave us more time together, even if it ends up short. I am more thankful than words can say for my dear, brave, angel of a convert mother who taught me that if I trust in God then everything will be okay.

I love her. I love Heavenly Father. I will continue to cherish the little time we have left together in this life.