Becoming a Matriarch

As I evolve in this earthly journey of womanhood, I find that I enjoy reading other women’s stories of child birth. We’re all very familiar with the story of Jesus’ birth in Luke chapter 2:6-7:

“And so it was, that while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.”

Of course, the story progresses with the witness of the angels to the shepherds and eventually through the city of Bethlehem that the Son of God has been born. We finally read something personal about how Mary perceived these events in a mere twelve words in verse 19: But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart.

Someday, most certainly in another part of this eternal experience, I would like to attend an epic devotional—where all of the great Matriarchs of scripture share their birth experiences. Birth is an essential part of our mortal existence—the gateway to our Second Estate, the proving ground for deliberate and covenant-making and keeping disciples of Christ. We know that we qualified for this opportunity because we have these bodies created in the image of our Heavenly Parents. Our spirits are the children of a Heavenly Father and a Heavenly Mother in the most literal sense possible.

I love these words from the author, Sarah Bessey. I love what she teaches us about birth and becoming a mother.

“If more mothers were pastors or preachers, perhaps the nativity stories of Christmas wouldn’t be quite so immaculate. We wouldn’t sing songs of babies who don’t cry. And maybe we wouldn’t mistake quiet for peace….The whole story of birth—this creating out of passion and love, the carrying of an ever-increasing beloved burden, the seemingly never-ending waiting, the knitting together of wonder in secret places, the under-the-surface fear, the pain, the labor, the blurring of that line between joy and “someone please make it stop,” the “I can’t do it” even while locked in the midst of the doing, the delivery of a new life in blood and hope and humanity—this is the stuff of God. There is something godly in the waiting, in the mystery, in the fact that we are a part of it—a partner with it but not the authors of it. You know there is a new life coming, and the anticipation is sometimes exciting, other times exhausting and never ending. There is a price to pay for the privilege of life. I can assure you: there isn’t anything very dignified about giving birth. And yet, that was the moment when I felt my carefully constructed line between the sacred and the secular shatter once and for all. The sacred and holy moments of a life are often our most raw, our most human moments aren’t they? No experience can take away what many mothers the world over know in their heart of hearts, about loss, sacrifice, pain, and birth, raising babies to life, and real transformation: it is Love, and it is sacred in its very messy living out. Is there a story on your lips? Of how you saw the face of God in the midst of fear or pain or joy, and how you understood—really understood—the Mother Mary.”

Yes, I would like to hear Mary’s story. If birth is a metaphor for our earthly experience and Jesus Christ is our Savior, I would like to hear what she pondered in her heart and how it changed her perspective in that very mortal moment.

The scriptures are rich with stories of womanhood. These women whose struggles and life situations are not unlike our own. No two are the same. Some are affluent; others live in poverty. Most are married, but some are single. Some are born in the lineage of prophets, and others come from the cultures of the world. Some have children; others do not. Some make their contributions from within a loving and supportive marriage. Others bring about much good while being married to an absent, abusive or unfaithful husband. All of them have challenges, but each one has a divine potential to contribute to the Lord’s work.

We often refer to these scriptural women as matriarchs. What is a matriarch of the gospel? A matriarch is a female who is central to a family unit. She is known for her leadership, problem solving, and ability to guide and direct those whom she stewards. She is fiercely loyal and protective of those in her care. Generally, she is a mother, but it is not required, for a woman can become a matriarch by using her spiritual gifts to support, defend, and nurture those in her family unit. A matriarch is easy to identify because others are drawn to her goodness; she influences her family more than any other group or individual. A matriarch focuses on nurturing, not competition.

The Latter-day Saint church alone among all the Christianities asserts that just as we have a Father in Heaven, so we also have a Mother in Heaven. We believe that all divinity is both male and female, such that our Heavenly Father could not be a god unless there was an equally yoked Heavenly Mother by his side who was also a god. Both President Harold B. Lee and President Spencer W. Kimball indicated that our Heavenly Mother possesses all the attributes of Godhood. She and Heavenly Father reared and taught us in the pre-earth life. She helped create this earth and formulate the Plan of Salvation. She stands beside the Father, as an equal partner and companion. In addition, these prophets stated that she can guide us here in mortality. President Kimball stated, “knowing how profoundly our mortal mothers have shaped us here, do we suppose her [that is, Heavenly Mother’s] influence on us as individuals to be less if we live so as to return [to heaven]?”

She is the great matriarch of our spirits. When we plead with our Father in Heaven and seek His counsel be assured that She is also there—sending personalized and specific comfort and peace. Sisters, we are here to learn to become like her; to become a matriarch.

Becoming a matriarch isn’t a step-by-step process. There isn’t one right way (yours) and the wrong way (everyone else’s). Our essential birth through the veil of mortality required the Atonement of Jesus Christ as the only way we could meet terms of justice. We will make mistakes; that was the whole idea.

Chieko Okasaki, former first counselor in the RS Presidency gave an excellent example of the great diversity in LDS homes. She held up two distinctly different quilts. She stated, “Both are handmade, beautiful, and delightful to snuggle down in or wrap around a [child]. Now look at this quilt. It’s a Hawaiian quilt with a strong, predictable pattern. We can look at half of the quilt and predict what the other half looks like. Sometimes our lives seem patterned, predictable in happy ways, in order. Now look at this second quilt. This style is called a crazy quilt. Some pieces are the same color, but no two pieces are the same size. They’re odd shapes. They come together at odd angles. This is an unpredictable quilt. Sometimes our lives are unpredictable, unpatterened, not neat or well-ordered. Well, there’s not one right way to be a quilt as long as the pieces are stitched together firmly. Both of these quilts will keep us warm and cozy. Both are beautiful and made with love. There’s not just one right way to be a Morman woman, either, as long as we are firmly grounded in faith in the Savior, make and keep covenants, live the commandments, and work together in charity. All of our homes can be righteous homes where individuals love each other, love the Lord, and strengthen each other.”

There was a period of time after our first failed adoption when I felt as if the hole in my spirit, in my soul would never be filled. I didn’t know how to fill it. I read everything I could on faith because I felt that if I would have had enough faith that I would have been able to move that mountain. I didn’t feel strong enough, or good enough to command a mountain to cast down a stone—let alone cast itself into the sea.

Time and experience create great spaces for mercy and love to reside. I use this story to illustrate how the Lord uses it in our process of “becoming”:

               Pastor Gaetan and his wife, Madame, had a dream for their little family of orphans: a real school. Their compound in Haiti was large enough to accommodate a school, but there was a large rocky hill in the middle, making it unsuitable for development. One day, a skinny Haitian man in his sixties showed up with a pickax and a shovel. With the promise of only lunch as his daily payment, he shouldered into that stone and dismantled an entire rock hillside, shovel by shovel, in the equatorial heat. Later, we asked him why he felt compelled to do this, what motivated this tremendous effort, and he told a story of always longing to go to school; and even though it was too late for him, it was not to late for Haiti. It took months of hard labor, but he leveled that hill with his own wiry arms and strong back, and they set up their tent school: more than 150 kids from the neighborhood showed up in little brown uniforms, many girls among them. Thanks be to God who moves mountains. And thanks be to God for men and women who pick up the stones, one after another, after another, until the mountain moves. Faith can, in fact, move mountains. And this is where I learned that sometimes our most holy mountain-moving faith looks more like spending our whole lives making that mountain move, rock by rock, pebble by pebble, unsexy day after daily day, casting the mountain to the sea stone by stone rather than watching a mountain suddenly rise up and cast itself.

Dear sisters, every time you pick up a rock—in faith, in your process of “becoming”—it matters. The duties and eternal responsibility of being a matriarch are perfected in the monotony of your daily tasks. Our biggest challenge in this world of constant competition is to lift where we stand; to do the work where it is needed. When we lift where we stand we gain confidence in our Heavenly Parents; in their eternal plan for us because we can see that overtime the little stones can make a difference.

Carolyn Custis James writes: The community of God’s people should be the epicenter of human flourishing—where men and women are encouraged and supported in their efforts to develop and use the gifts God has given them wherever he stations them in this world…God never envisioned a world where [his disciples] would do life in low gear or be encouraged to hold back, especially when suffering is rampant, people are lost, and there is so much Kingdom work to do. He wants his daughters to thrive, mature, gain wisdom, hone their gifts, and contribute to his vast purposes in our world…God created his daughters to be kingdom builders—to pay attention to what is happening around us, to take action and contribute.

We do that best when we focus on nurturing rather than competing. God marks a heroine differently than the world does.

We do that best when we look to the attributes of Christ, who was taught by his mother, Mary:  “You must begin with your own life-giving lives. It’s who you are, not what you say and do, that counts. Your true being brims over into true words and deeds. You cannot be full to the brim with Christ’s love and peace without spilling over into the lives of others. You learn how to love by being loved. You yearn to heal once you are healed. We receive goodness and bread, and then, of course, of course, we want to point every other hungry beggar on the road to the source.”

We do that best when we are confident. Matriarchs are leaders. Teach with confidence and bear your testimony with conviction.

We do that best when we are powerful. Powerful because you are becoming a matriarch through making and keeping sacred covenants in the temple. The power in the priesthood is with you as you lead and guide your family. As you stitch your own type of quilt, the power of the priesthood will keep your stitches tight and firmly in place.

We do it best when we love. Love is the only way.

How grateful I am for your love, for your friendship, for your examples of patience and sacrifice.

I bear testimony of the existence of a Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother. They know us, they love us—infinitely and eternally.

If you’re wondering if there is a place for you in the Kingdom; if you’re wondering if you’re type of quilt will ever qualify as good enough—don’t quit. Keep picking up the stones, even if you only have the strength left to grasp for pebbles. God’s grace will give you the power to keep going. There IS a place for you. Your contributions MATTER. We NEED your love. I know it—and so I testify, in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.