When I go to the movies I have this slight paranoia of getting head lice from resting my head on the theater seat. I mean, that’s legitimate, right? I don’t know who sat there before
me. Who knows what manner of
residual nastiness could be festering on that cushy, high back chair! And so goes just one of my many
creeping thoughts of “what if’s”
that goes through my mind on any given day.
This brings me to what my husband calls my
over-protectiveness of our children. When I was 11 years old (the current age
of my oldest child) I rode my bike up and down my street for hours on end like
I owned it. There were never any
thoughts of what scary monsters could be lurking in the shadows ready to pounce
and steal my childhood innocence.
Never once did I consider that any of my neighbors could be a potential
pedophile or sadistic serial murderer on the prowl, waiting for me to ride past
his or her door on my ten speed so that they could snatch me up and carry me
away to some dark room, only feet away from my frantically searching family,
never allowing me to see the natural light of day! But as a mother, these are my fears. And this is why I don’t let my children
go anymore than 30 or so minutes without checking in with me, and I N-E-V-E-R
let them leave our little cul-de-sac, on foot or bike. They are constantly pointing out their
friends who we pass on the street several blocks away from our neighborhood and
saying, “Mom! Look! It’s Jesse or Tony! Wow, they can go this far from their
house?” To which I reply, “Oh my goodness! That’s crazy far!
I wonder if their moms know where they are? But you guys know you guys can’t do this, right?” My fears, which some may say are a bit
irrational, require that I keep my children close to me.
When my husband was a kid he had a circle of cousins and
friends that consisted of about 10 to 12 slightly delinquent boys that walked
up and down several blocks, not just in their own little town but all along
their neighboring cities as well.
He has stories upon stories of all of the mischief they got into on this street corner or in front of that store. He tells them with a warm smile and nostalgic chuckle and I
listen with genuine interest. They
were some crazy kids! My stories
consisted of me spending hours with my best friend who lived down the street
and the most rebellious thing we ever did was ride our bikes down the busy main
road just outside of my block to the local liquor store to buy candy. We both have ridiculously funny stories
of our childhood adventures and sharing them with one another has led to some
really awesome and insightful conversations. I love all the sharing! But what if my method of keeping my
children safe leads them to have uninteresting lives? Am I really keeping them safe or am I robbing them of their own fun stories?
I want them to enjoy their innocent years and to feel the
excitement of having these little adventures. However, I am not 11 years old anymore. I am old enough now to know that the
monsters aren’t under their beds.
They’re not big and hairy with sharp, pointed teeth. They are normal looking, probably
fairly charming people in or around our neighborhood, who can tempt you with
kind words and requests for help with something in their backyard or finding
their lost cat.
Recently, there have been several stories in the news of
adults who were kidnapped children held in captivity for decades who have,
through a series of miracles, found their way back home. These stories, while I am so grateful
for their happy endings, haunt me.
They’re usually so close to their homes, just a few miles away, and yet
they were living nightmares for years. When I hear these stories I clutch my
babies just a little bit closer.
How can I loosen my grip on them and allow them to run the streets the
way their father and I did when we were their age when I have all of this
information about what could actually happen to them?
The funny thing is, other than my potentially crazy fear of
something happening to them, I’m actually a pretty liberal parent. I talk everything out with my children.
There isn’t a topic that I am not willing to address with them. Their goals, dreams, any and all areas
of interest... lets talk about it!
Forensic science, gays and lesbians, movies, where do babies come from,
whatever it is, let’s have a dialogue! If I don’t know the answer we “Google”
it together. But this one thing,
giving them more freedom to do things away from me, I find SO difficult.
The reason why this is on my mind today is because I am a
Mormon. I love God and have a
relationship with my Savior Jesus Christ.
I am also the mother of 4 sons and 1 girl. It is expected as a Mormon mother for me to raise my sons
and daughter to also love the Lord and to want to serve missions when they
become of age and to teach others about Christ and His sacrifice for us. I have always believed this and it is
toward this purpose that I have worked to build my children’s spirituality. It has always been my goal to raise
good, honorable young people who love the Lord and will be productive
contributors to society someday.
Today I heard a story from Jeffrey R Holland at our General Conference about
2 missionaries, sister missionaries, who were walking through a park and saw a
man sitting on a bench eating his lunch and so they started to approach
him. When the man on the bench saw
them walking toward him he started to yell and spit his food at them. They immediately turned around and
walked away. As one of the young
women went to wipe some of this man’s food off of her face she felt something
hit her in the back of the head.
He’d thrown his mashed potatoes at her. She told President Holland that in that moment it was so
hard for her to be a missionary.
She wanted to turn around and say something to the man, confront him,
but she didn’t. She found a way to
humble herself and continued to walk away. I cried like a baby when I heard this story. I mean, I did that ugly cry. My heart ached for that poor girl. How could anyone be so despicable to
these young people who are out there sharing their testimonies about Jesus
Christ? There’s no excuse for such
behavior! In that moment, I became
that nameless sister missionary’s mother and I cried for her and I wanted
nothing more than to protect her.
For the first time in my life, I questioned whether I had
the faith and the strength to send my children out into a world where this
could be a possibility. Where do I find the grit required of mothers to let our
children go out into the great big unknown in order to serve missions? How did my Father in Heaven let his
only begotten son come down here knowing what
awaited him? How did my Heavenly Mother
do this? I think of this enormous
sacrifice and I want to weep. I
can only imagine what she might’ve said to Our Heavenly Father as they discussed
what needed to happen. Her eyes filled with tears, “Is this really necessary? My poor son. They are going to persecute him, call him a liar, beat him,
mock him with a crown made of thorns and then nail him to a cross. My poor, poor son!” In my imagination she would’ve said
these things all knowing that there was no other way. Knowing that the only way to provide a way for the rest of
her children to come back to her would be to sacrifice this one. Billions and billions of souls needed to be saved and it
could only be done through the sacrifice of this one child. There isn’t
a single parent who wouldn’t pause and think on this. To give up any child, even if it was just one, for the sake
of all of the others would be gut
wrenching. Gut wrenching and necessary.
So, I guess that is the answer to my question of whether I
have the faith and the strength to send my children out into a world that could
spit on them, throw food at them, ridicule them, mock them, and treat them with
all manner of cruelty. I will look
to the example of my Father in Heaven and my less spoken of Mother in
Heaven. I will have to remember
there is a greater picture and have faith that this is a necessary sacrifice
for their spiritual brothers and sisters who have not yet heard the gospel and
know that my babies aren’t the first to have gone through this. With that faith I will also have hope
that there will be other merciful mothers out there looking after my children
in my stead. May these other “proxy
mothers” feed and protect my children when the time comes the way I am feeding
their children now and the way I would willingly and gladly protect any one of them
like they were my own.
My dear sisters, if your children are currently serving Our
Heavenly Father today and they out there serving full-time missions spreading
the gospel, know this… I will watch over them where I am. I will feed them and provide whatever I
can for them here in my little corner of the world. And I have the utmost faith that I am not alone in this. I know, the way I know that my Father
in Heaven lives and the way I know that Jesus is the Christ, that there is an
entire network of “proxy moms” out there serving and protecting your children,
too. =)
And even with all of this faith and hope… I still won't let them leave our block. lol. At least for a little while longer. ;)
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