I was asked to speak in my ward on Sunday for Mother’s Day. I actually like pubic speaking and enjoy preparing talks. However, this talk was particularly hard to write. All week I felt the pressure to be perfect and to give a perfect talk or risk offending someone in the ward. Throw in some social media drama (not of my making) and I was on my way to a nervous breakdown by Saturday night. I prayed a lot to try and find some peace and I had a break through on what to talk about and how to say it. “Just testify of the gospel and share your testimony for the uplifting of the sisters in your ward who are struggling with heavy burdens.”
When I was about thirteen years old I was perfectly molded in the opinions of the current society. I had my life all planned out, and was sure that my plans were socially pleasing to all of my friends. I was also sure that my plans would ensure that I wouldn’t turn out like my mother, who at the time was a person I didn’t really care about pleasing that much. You got it, I was a run of the mill, know it all and going to do it better than my parents, teenager. The only problem was, I didn’t really know what better meant because I was only seeing the popular social perspective.
This was the plan. I was going to go to college and get a degree in psychology, go on a mission for my church, get married to a really cute guy, and be a career woman. The picture alloted for a couple of children too, but those weren’t the important thing, the career was. I was pretty sure I knew that being a mom meant being a victim. Moms were weak. They didn’t do anything worth while. No one seemed to care much about mothers. They didn’t get Continue reading →