This was originally posted last year for Mother’s Day. I hope you all had a wonderful Mother’s day filled with relaxation and appreciation!

Happy Mother’s Day! I got beautiful flowers, delicious chocolates and breakfast, dinner and dessert made for me.

I hope all of your Mother’s days have been good; feel free to share how your family celebrated!

Here is the talk I’m giving today in church. (Guess how long it took me to say all this, plus a little extra I added as I spoke.)

And to be a mother is hard. I had no idea how hard it would be before I had Hayden. I don’t remember receiving that warning from anyone. On the other hand, I had some idea how difficult it would be to be a mother in today’s society.

Today’s society sends women mixed messages about motherhood. On the one hand, there is a lot of pressure to have children. On the other hand, there is also a lot of pressure to “do more” with your life. We’re told that we should leave our young children at home because the only way for us to feel “fulfilled” is to receive promotions, praise and paychecks in the labor force. We’re told that it’s impossible to live on one income these days by a society that makes more money than ever before—and incurs more debt. One recent book, which I’m told was very well researched, says that it’s actually better for children, specifically daughters, for mothers to go back into the workplace.

Mothers today are told that we can have it all at once, and that we need to have it all right now. In the world of instant gratification, you must be a mom, a career woman, a good wife and your own person all at once. The world of instant gratification offers little gratification at all.

Unfortunately, to our society, motherhood doesn’t offer much gratification, either. Sometimes, it’s very easy to believe the messages that we hear from the world. After all, we don’t get recognition for changing dirty diapers, buckling seat belts and scrubbing dishes. We don’t get pay, appreciation or prizes in the line of duty. If we give up a job or career to become a mother, we may even receive ridicule and derision.

I’m not immune to the pressures of the world. When I first became a mother, I was simultaneously over- and underwhelmed. I felt like I was going to die—literally, I would be physically incapable of making it through the oft-interrupted night. On the other hand, I had a lot of down time. While Hayden woke up several times a night, he also slept several hours a day and I just couldn’t make myself slow down enough to sleep that much. I felt like I should be “doing more” with my life—and not just because I had some free time. (As if being a mother weren’t enough!)

Sheri Dew reminds us who is the author of the messages the world sends us:

It’s no wonder that Satan has declared war on motherhood. He knows that those who rock the cradle can rock his earthly empire. And he knows that without righteous mothers loving and leading the next generation, the kingdom of God will fail. When we understand the magnitude of motherhood, it becomes clear why prophets have been so protective of woman’s most sacred role. (Sept 2001 General Relief Society Meeting)

We can’t let the world dictate our worth. The fullness of the restored gospel teaches us the truth about parenthood: it is central to God’s eternal plan. J. Reuben Clark, then a counselor speaking for the First Presidency, wrote, “Motherhood is near to divinity. It is the highest, holiest service to be assumed by mankind.” The Relief Society Declaration proudly proclaims that “We are beloved spirit daughters of God, and our lives have meaning, purpose, and direction. . . . We are women of faith, virtue, vision, and charity who . . . Find nobility in motherhood.”

I think that not only the importance of the work mothers do but the sacrifices and service that motherhood entails, while challenging, are what makes this calling the highest and holiest service.

President David O. McKay said,

She who rears successfully a family of healthy, beautiful sons and daughters, whose influence will be felt through generations to come, deserves the highest honor that man can give, and the choicest blessings of God. In her high duty and service to humanity . . . , she is co-partner with the Creator himself. (Gospel Ideals, 453-454)

We are co-partners with the Creator himself as we raise up children unto the Lord. Jane Clayson Johnson describes a moment when she received a confirmation of this statement: “The feeling came over me so strongly that as a mother, the Lord needed me” (I Am a Mother, 16). Just as the Lord needs us to serve one another here on the earth, He needs us to raise our children in righteousness.

Motherhood is central to God’s eternal plan for his children. As a new mother, I found reassurance in knowing that, even if I wasn’t always sure of myself and my role as a mother, God was. God wanted me to be doing what I was doing right then. The plan of happiness hinges upon parenthood.

Heavenly Father’s work and His glory is to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man—of us, of His children. Truly, one of the great purposes of this life is for us to take part in a parallel process of bringing to pass the immortality and eternal life of our children, to become like Heavenly Father by teaching our children to become like Him. Motherhood is near to divinity.

A mother’s duty is to bring her children up “in the nurture and admonition of the Lord” (Eph. 6:4). That’s a tall order. The Topical Guide lists more than 30 scriptures under “Family Responsibilities toward Children.” Highlighted in almost every excerpt listed there are the verbs in the phrases—words like chasten, train, teach, exhort, command, and remember. Little wonder, then, that President James E. Faust called good parenting the greatest challenge in the world. He summed up some of parents’ responsibilities:

The scriptures tell us that parents are to teach their children “faith in Christ the Son of the living God, and of baptism and the gift of the Holy Ghost,” and “the doctrine of repentance.” (D&C 68:25.) (October 1990 Conference)

He continues:

In my opinion, the teaching, rearing, and training of children requires more intelligence, intuitive understanding, humility, strength, wisdom, spirituality, perseverance, and hard work than any other challenge we might have in life.

The Lord has directed, “Bring up your children in light and truth.” (D&C 93:40.) To me, there is no more important human effort.

We scarcely need to be reminded of how important that effort is. We know that, as Neal A. Maxwell said, “When the real history of mankind is fully disclosed, . . . what happened in cradles and kitchens [may] prove to be more controlling than what happened in congresses” (April 1978 Conference). I know that there are so many forces working on our children today and I’m often afraid that I won’t succeed at instilling the values which are most important into the heart of my son. I’m afraid I won’t sufficiently train him up in the way that he should go, and that he may depart from it.

As I was preparing this talk, I was thinking about the standard of perfection that the world requires of women and mothers, and I suddenly remembered that one most difficult commandment—be ye therefore perfect.

I am not perfect. Had I waited until I was, I would have never become a parent. But I try, just like every mother here tries, to be a good mother. But I still worry that my trying will not be enough, that I will fall short—that I cannot be a perfect parent.

As soon as I remembered the words “Be ye therefore perfect,” another phrase from scripture came into my mind—”Come unto Christ and be perfected in him.”

I know that motherhood is the most important calling on earth. I also know that I cannot be a perfect parent all by myself. When motherhood is its hardest, I realize that I have been trying to do it all, all by myself. I am constantly reminded that I am a joint heir and CO-partner with Christ. I can turn to the One who has offered to take upon Him my burdens, my sorrows and my sins. He will justify and sanctify me and my efforts as an individual and a mother.

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland came to the same conclusion in General Conference, April 1996:

When you have come to the Lord in meekness and lowliness of heart and, as one mother said, “pounded on the doors of heaven to ask for, to plead for, to demand guidance and wisdom and help for this wondrous task,” that door is thrown open to provide you the influence and the help of all eternity. Claim the promises of the Savior of the world. Ask for the healing balm of the Atonement for whatever may be troubling you or your children. Know that in faith things will be made right in spite of you, or more correctly, because of you.

You can’t possibly do this alone, but you do have help. The Master of Heaven and Earth is there to bless you—He who resolutely goes after the lost sheep, sweeps thoroughly to find the lost coin, waits everlastingly for the return of the prodigal son. Yours is the work of salvation, and therefore you will be magnified, compensated, made more than you are and better than you have ever been as you try to make honest effort, however feeble you may sometimes feel that to be.

Remember, remember all the days of your motherhood: “Ye have not come thus far save it were by the word of Christ with unshaken faith in him, relying wholly upon the merits of him who is mighty to save” (2 Ne 31:19).

Rely on Him. Rely on Him heavily. Rely on Him forever. And “press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope” (2 Ne 31:20). You are doing God’s work. You are doing it wonderfully well. He is blessing you and He will bless you, even—no, especially—when your days and your nights may be the most challenging. Like the woman who anonymously, meekly, perhaps even with hesitation and some embarrassment, fought her way through the crowd just to touch the hem of the Master’s garment, so Christ will say to the women who worry and wonder and sometimes weep over their responsibility as mothers, “Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole” (Matt 9:22). And it will make your children whole as well.

I know that I still have to try, and work very hard to teach my children that which they must do, but I testify that after all that we can do, it is by grace that we are saved. I believe that this applies not just to our eternal salvation, but to our efforts as parents in this life. I will always fall short of the standard of perfection by myself, but if I can rely upon the Lord and trust in Him in faith, I believe that He will justify me—He will compensate for my shortcomings. He will make up the difference. And if we have been true and faithful, He will sanctify me and my family to bring to pass our immortality and eternal life.

Three times last night, I heard the hosts on various shows bid all the mothers a happy Mother’s Day. More than once, they assured me, “We appreciate all that you do.” Only one of the people who expressed Mother’s Day wishes was a mother herself, though many, if not all of the men were fathers.

And each time, it grated on my nerves more and more. Finally, the third time, I’d had it (it was also after midnight…). I turned to the television and shouted, “No you don’t! You don’t have any idea what we do!”

If you’re still pondering what special things to say to your mother or wife (or baby mama) for Mother’s Day, here’s a little hint: don’t say that you’re grateful for all that we do. Even if you really, truly are grateful for absolutely everything that we do, leaving it at that makes us (or me, at least) feel as though you have no concept of what we do, and no real desire to find out.

Instead, pick a few specific things to mention. They could be thankless tasks that you know your wife/mother/babymama does (diapers, dishes, maintaining a well-run house, enforcing the rules, etc.); it could be a favorite family memory (especially effective if you know that your wife/mother/babymama put a lot of time and effort into creating that memory, but it works either way).

By speaking in specifics, the underlying message is that you notice what we do. Generalities are nice, but they’re just that—general. By mentioning a couple things to focus on, hopefully your wife/mother/babymama will understand that you see the hard, thankless work that is part and parcel with motherhood—and that you appreciate that.

Just a thought.

A number of people left insightful, moving comments in response to the reprint of “The Invisible Woman” I ran on Monday. However, a select few decided to make violent and abusive comments on the piece. These comments have been removed, and the comments on that post have been closed.

Here is part of my explanation:

Unfortunately, it appears that a number of people, most of whom are not brave enough to make themselves actually ‘visible’ with a real name, email address or URL, have chosen to make this blog a platform to their own unhappiness and failure to accept the fact that scrubbing floors, changing diapers and making and enforcing rules is thankless work which will almost definitely go unnoticed by anyone but God himself. I’m sorry that so many people missed the point of this poignant essay (which I did not write, thank you).

. . . I actually write on the topic of finding fulfillment in motherhood, finding value in our own lives with or without the validation of outside sources (and yes, your kids and husbands are “outside sources”).

Consider this post an open invitation to discuss that topic, “finding fulfillment in motherhood, finding value in our own lives with or without the validation of outside sources (and yes, your kids and husbands are “outside sources”). Because while we do focus a lot on getting appreciation from our husbands and children on the one day of the year that they are almost required to demonstrate it, the fact remains that we will never be happy with the work of motherhood until we see it as intrinsically valuable and worthwhile in and of itself.

I’m sorry that so many people seem to think that the message of the story was that we should be content to be ignored. It is not. The message is that we have to value what we do ourselves (and recognize the value that God has placed upon this divine calling), because times come when no one else will.

Frankly, the abusive and violent comments which I received on that post simply reinforce my point that motherhood isn’t truly appreciated. When one insightful mother makes an attempt to find value in motherhood for herself, people jump on her to pull her down and tell her that she doesn’t have worth because she’s ignored.

Mothers will be ignored. I look with great skepticism at any person who claims otherwise. My husband has no idea what I do all day long (actually, I don’t have any idea how he passes his days at work either, and I’m pretty well acquainted with what he does). My son is far too young to possess the empathy required to understand that whining for food grates on my nerves, wears on my patience and requires me to get up (reminder: I’m six months pregnant, so this is a bit of a big deal), walk in the kitchen and prepare something for him. And as he gets older, frankly, I don’t anticipate him suddenly becoming self-aware—I know lots of kids of all ages and the maturity required to recognize and minimize the impact of your life on the life of your caregiver is virtually never acquired until adulthood. And sometimes not even then.

But I AM A MOTHER. That is how I proudly define myself. I do things like clean up after my son—heck, I even pick up trash on the street—and nurture my family—and strangers. I take care of the people around me. No one will thank me for changing my son’s diaper (unless I had assigned my husband to do it and did it myself instead), but it’s still gotta be done.

Motherhood isn’t like a regular job. As difficult as it is to continue without recognition, you can’t just quit being a mother because you don’t get a raise or a gold star or a trophy—or even a pat on the back. You can’t quit on the days you don’t think you can get out of bed. You can’t quit when you have the flu. You can try to get the people around you to notice and appreciate everything you do for them, but that won’t give you a sense of self-worth.

We each have to foster our own sense of self-worth as individuals—and as mothers. Because, like I said, we ain’t gettin’ out of that one any time soon.

I wish I could say I wrote this; I didn’t, but I found it moving enough to remember it six months later.

It started to happen gradually.

One day I was walking my son Jake to school. I was holding his hand and we were about to cross the street when the crossing guard said to him, “Who is that with you, young fella?”

“Nobody,” he shrugged.

Nobody? The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only 5, but as we crossed the street I thought, “Oh my goodness, nobody?”

I would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something to my family like, “Turn the TV down, please,” and nothing would happen. Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would stand there for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, “Would someone turn the TV down?” Nothing.

Just the other night my husband and I were out at a party. We’d been there for about three hours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, I whispered, “I’m ready to go when you are.” He just kept right on talking. I’m invisible.

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I’m on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I’m thinking, “Can’t you see I’m on the phone?” Obviously not. No one can see if I’m on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.

I’m invisible.

Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?

Some days I’m not a pair of hands; I’m not even a human being. I’m a clock to ask, “What time is it?” I’m a satellite guide to answer, “What number is the Disney Channel?”

I’m a car to order, “Right around 5:30, please.”

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated sum ma cum laud – but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again.

She’s going¸ she’s going¸ she’s gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well.

It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, “I brought you this.”

It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn’t exactly sure why she’d given it to me until I read her inscription: “To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.”

In the days ahead I would read—no, devour—the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:

No one can say who built the great cathedrals—we have no record of their names.

These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.

They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.

The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, “Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.”

And the workman replied, “Because God sees.”

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, “I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you’ve done, no sequin you’ve sewn on, no cupcake you’ve baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can’t see right now what it will become.”

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don’t want my son to tell the friend he’s bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, “My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.” That would mean I’d built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, “You’re gonna love it there.”

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we’re doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Author Unknown from The Invisible Woman by Nicole Johnson (thanks Jennifer!), though I first saw it at Kasie Sallee’s blog, The Art of Life