I'll Treasure the Things You Are

I've read a lot of wonderful blog entries lately- specifically, letters and counsel from loving parents to children who can't read yet, children who aren't here yet, children in general. As a result, I've spent a lot of time thinking about what words of wisdom I'd like to leave for my children- what I want them to remember. And I haven't been able to figure it out, until recently I was reminiscing and the answer came in a memory. Let's go back.

Once upon a time, I was in a play. This may shock those of you who know me best- I am a terrible, terrible actress. I just don't do it. I am a behind-the-scenes-or-the-piano kind of girl. Fortunately, I was a cute little six or seven-year-old child at the time, and I played a cute little six or seven-year-old pioneer girl, so it wasn't too much of a stretch. Even so... despite how awesome I thought I was in the moment... I've seen videos. I was cute, but I wasn't good. It's ok- my character, as did many young pioneers, died on the trek. Probably a blessing to Act II. I just am not and was not a thespian. What I WAS good at, however, was memorizing my lines. I totally rocked that business. So much so, in fact, that I still remember the vast majority of them. I especially remember my one solo lyric. It was part of a trio with my stage-sister and stage-stepmom. Honestly, it was mostly a duet between them, but I had one little winning, childlike interjection of my very own:

"I may not remember a thing you say, but I'll treasure the things you are.*" 

What a brilliant and accurate bit of wisdom. I know that my own mother sometimes agonizes over certain moments, certain choices in her childrearing career. Occasionally, she'll recollect things that happened that she felt may have been particularly regretful moments... and the thing is- 98% of the time, I don't have a clue what she's talking about. As I've grown up a little and gotten over angsty teenage resentment and unjust grudges against my parents, and learned to forgive the Moments and dwell instead on the character of Mom, this little solo lyric of mine took on real meaning. My mom is one of the most committed givers I have ever known. She is a woman of great faith. She is a brilliant speaker, who teaches with the Spirit. She is intelligent and wise- qualities that don't always go hand-in-hand. I could go on. 

What I've realized is that I need to focus less on saying all the right things, and more on doing the right things. I can tell my kids how to behave and who they should strive to be until I'm blue in the face, but what they'll remember is who I am. And they'll learn who I am by watching what I do... even, and maybe especially, when I don't realize they're doing it. So here are some things I commit to showing, not just telling, my children:

1. I will be a wise steward over our family's finances. Needs come first. Wants come when we can afford them, and "affording" will never involve "I'll pay for it later."

2. I will respect my body. I will beautify it modestly, as I would a Temple, and maintain it as I would my home (ok, better, hopefully).

3. I will continually increase my education throughout my life, for the rest of my life. Spiritual education, academic education, social education. I firmly trust that "whatever principle of intelligence we attain unto in this life, it will rise with us in the resurrection.**" Personally, I'd like to be well-armed with this life's arsenal of information in the next life so I can start learning the even cooler stuff ASAP.

4. I will be kind to those around me and seek out the good in my fellow man. Life is so much happier when I look for reasons to love, and recognize that as my weaknesses are consistently forgiven, so should I forgive the weaknesses of others. I will audibly build up my fellow man. Heaven knows my strengths could use some extra encouragement so I have something to lean on in moments of weakness.

5. I will treat my marriage as a precious and beloved gift. I will speak to my spouse with kindness, compassion and respect. I will show my children that an equal and eternal partnership is not only a reasonable possibility, but a joy to be sought and worked for. 

6. I will fail. The only thing I've ever done perfectly was standardized testing in elementary school, and judging from the large chunk of my resume consumed by low-paid menial labor, that didn't get me far. When I fail, I will admit it. When I fail with my children, I will apologize and make amends, despite my pride. 

7. I will allow my children to see the healing power of the Atonement in my life. I will never ever allow my children to believe that I believe that I am perfect. I need Jesus to cover my sins and weaknesses, and I won't try to hide that undeniable fact.

My kids are watching, whether I like it or not. It's time I step up and accept that my responsibility is far heavier than simply telling them how to behave. Hypocrisy has got to be one of the greatest enemies of leadership, so it's time I re-evaluate to make sure I'm living as I want them to live. "The prophet Brigham Young said: 'We should never permit ourselves to do anything that we are not willing to see our children do. We should set them an example that we wish them to imitate.'***" 

I would give my children everything, if it were within my means to do so. Security, wealth, education, love, happiness. I hope to say someday that I helped set them on the path to those things, though they will ultimately have to earn them on their own. There are so many things I can't do for them. What I can do is give them a Me they will treasure, because someday they may not remember a thing I say. They'll always remember who I am.

*"The Lesson That I Love Best," by Sally DeFord

**Doctrine and Covenants 130:18

***"Be An Example of the Believers," Mary N Cook, LDS General Conference Oct. 2010