In the Topical Guide uder "Support," there are a few scriptures that really stood out to me. First is Nephi's beautiful exclamation, "My God hath been my support" (2 Nephi 4:20). I can echo that testimony. It is the Lord who has helped me through everything in my entire life, and who has given me the courage to be strong when I want to buckle under pressure.
I also love Mosiah 2:21, where we are reminded that the Lord supports us from one moment to another. He gives us breath, he allows our hearts to beat, and He makes everything we do possible. Even if we serve Him our entire lives, we still are unprofitable servants. Everything we have is His or is because of Him.
Another scripture that stood out to me was Alma 30:60, which reminds us that "the devil will not support his children." He doesn't love us. The adversary wants us to turn away from God, but then he leaves us with nothing. We must never succomb to his lies because what we need is support, and he will never have any support to offer.
I feel so grateful to have a family who supports me. Eric spent the whole day at Big Bear with our children so I could have a quiet house in which to rest and recover. He has vaccumed, cleaned, bathed the children, played games with them, brought me flowers, and made sure that I am okay. I love that man.
My mother is another example of support. She will do anything for me--even stay at the hospital for hours and hours by my side while I sleep. How grateful I am for this beautiful woman in my life.
Here's the post: "I'll Always Need My Mommy."
This past week I finally went in for a surgery that I have been needing (and dreading) for years. My body didn’t respond very well to pregnancy and childbirth, and some varicose veins had made it increasingly difficult to maintain the pace necessary to raise my family. As my health deteriorated to the point that I could barely walk, I knew it was time….
My husband took a couple of days off work to care for our children, clean the house, do the shopping, and balance everything else he needs to do (beautifully, I might say), and my mother came with me to the hospital to check me in to the surgical center, make sure I successfully emerged from the anesthesia, and get me settled into my recovery room. A few hours after the surgery, I sent her home to get some rest—reassuring her that I was totally fine. I was in one of the best hospitals in the nation, I had an excellent doctor, qualified and friendly nurses, and all the books and journals I could fit into my suitcase. I told her I’d call her each day, but I was SURE I wouldn’t need her again.
Unfortunately, my optimism began to wane as quickly as the anesthesia. That entire night I tossed and turned as I pushed my green “medicine light,” fell asleep, and then woke up shortly thereafter to incredible pain. I felt nauseated, strangled by all the cords attached to my body, and frustrated when the nurses (who had nine other patients needing them) didn’t seem too concerned. By 6:45 the next morning, I couldn’t take it any longer. I called my mom and, using fighting back tears, begged her to “Please come and be with me!”
She could sense the urgency in my voice, and as soon as she could make it through the morning traffic, she was right there by my side. For the rest of the day, she stayed in my room, made sure I drank my broth, asked me how I was feeling, and told me I was doing a great job. At one point, she even stood next to me in the hospital rest room and let me sleep on her tummy while I had my sitz bath. I had been crying from all the pain, and the medication made me so drowsy. I didn’t know how I was going to make it through one more minute, but my mom was there to (literally) lean on.
Although I spent most of the day sleeping, it meant the world to me to wake up and see her there every hour or two. I knew that even if the nurses were busy and if my doctor was getting ready for his vacation, at least one person in that big building cared about ME. I took this photo of her with my phone as a way to remember that special time.
As I’ve reflected on this experience, I realized that even though we all grow up and become independent adults, a part of us will always need our mommy. There is no logical reason why my mother needed to be there. I’m 31 years old. I have a house, a mini-van, children, a bunny, a business, a website…I’m responsible. I’m “grown up.” I can be tough, and I can make it through hard situations, and when my mother has not been available, I have made it alone. However, there is a part of me, and there is a part of you, and there is a part in each of our children that will always need Mommy. It is the part that needs some support from a loving parent, the part that wants to be reminded everything will be okay. It is the part that just needs to hear, “There, there.”
My mom is in her seventies, and there will come a day I won’t have her here with me. I know that is coming, and I dread that day like you wouldn’t believe, but it does do some good to remember that I am becoming that source of strength for my children. Someday, I’ll be the one getting that 6:45 a.m. phone call, and if there is any way possible, I will be at their side in a heartbeat. Because I am Mommy. And everybody needs their mommy.
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