by S. Amanda Dickson
Lately, I find myself wondering if my mother realized all the things that she was teaching me. The list of things my mother has taught me is long: She taught me to clean and care for a home, how to do laundry, prepare meals and bake cookies. She, with my dad, taught me to have a good work ethic, to always try my best, to care for the people around me and to have integrity.

But, the biggest thing my mother taught me though can be summed up in one word: Faith.

My father was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, but did not attend much when he was growing up. He went to church with my mom in the very beginning of their years as husband and wife. I don’t know why he stopped coming or when. He was always supportive, though: helping to get the five of us kids ready for church, attending activities with us, participating in family home evening and prayers at supper time, and coming to church when one of us was speaking.

My mother, though, always took us to church. Always. Five children, by herself. I often wonder if I would have had the strength. Many weeks I find myself struggling to take three children to church and I have my husband by my side each week. Surely, there must have been weeks for my mother, when it seemed like too big a job to take five kids to church each week alone.

In doing so, though, she was silently telling me, “This is important. It is important because I believe in Christ and I want you too as well.” It’s a lesson that has stayed with me and a big part of why I continue to take my kids to church each week, even though there are times when I feel like all
I’ve done is referee the kids and tried to shush them enough that those sitting near us can hear the speakers. I’m hoping that by taking my kids each week, I am telling them the same thing that she was telling me.

I remember when I was young my mother and a friend would go to the temple each month. Those trips taught me that the temple is a place to strive for, and that it brings peace. She would always have conference on when we were kids, and this taught me that she wanted to hear the prophet and the apostles. She believes in the words that they are saying, and she loves them. These days, I take my kids to the temple grounds so they can feel the peace that just being on the grounds brings. We talk about why they should make it a goal to go inside. Now, it is me that turns conference on – for me and for them. I do it for me so that I can hear the words, and for my children so they know that I believe.

My mother did not stand up at the pulpit and bear her testimony often, rather, she showed us her testimony by living. I would often find her studying her scriptures before bed, or reading through lesson manuals in the mornings.
She is always willing to accept a calling, even if she feels inadequate and she readily serves her neighbors. I hope that someday my children will remember me this way as well.

As a teenager, I never dreamed that I would want to be like my mother. Now, though, I would be honored if someone compared me to her. I laugh to myself when I hear myself saying something that she always said. I hope that I am teaching my children in the way that she taught me – quietly, truthfully and by example. She is an inspiration, no doubt, and a gem in my eyes. Truly.

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