Mother's Day

   I gritted my teeth and got ready for church on Mother's Day. I really wanted to stay home, but I only get to go to church every other week due to my work schedule. I really didn't want to stay home. I knew it was going to be tough. Listening to talks on happy homes and benevolent,caring mothers was going to be difficult. I decided to wear a large hat. I figured that if I had a serious crying jag I could put my head down and the hat would shield my face. I put extra tissues in my bag with my Scriptures. I was as ready as I could be.
  We got to church and walked toward the chapel. President Campbell was in the outside lobby with his wife Susan. It was good to see both of them. Susan told me that she had read my column on how Mother's Day was not my holiday and it made her a little sad that I felt that way. I knew it wasn't the most cheerful of columns, but I had to be honest. She and her husband were on their way home. Their daughter who is serving a mission in Germany would be calling and they needed time to get things set up so that all the family could participate. They left and C and I went inside.
  I saw two baskets of red roses sitting on either side of the lectern. That was going to be the present this year. That wasn't too bad. I didn't mind accepting a red rose. I sat alone in my pew as C had to sit on the rostrum with the others that would be speaking that morning.
  The service started and it was all right. Once C started speaking I started to tear up and couldn't stop. He talked about his mother a little bit and that made me feel sad. C's parents separated when he was young so he has only a few memories of her. He talked about forgiveness and his beloved grandmother. He mentioned a few mothers of friends who mothered him.  I was able to pull myself together to listen to the children sing a song. The next speaker's talk was not quite so emotional so I was able to pull myself together.
  After Sacrament meeting I really wanted to go home. I just wasn't sure I could handle being around people for two more hours. I didn't have a choice though, we had given someone a ride to church and we couldn't leave until all the meetings were over. I stood up and walked out of the chapel stopping only to accept a rose from a young man who was carrying five of them.
  I stopped to talk to a friend before heading off to second hour Bible study. I wasn't going to have any problem there. I didn't know what the lesson was, but I was sure it would not have to do with Mother's Day. I was late and took a seat in the front corner. Everything was all right until someone started talking about caretakers being spiritually, mentally and physically spent which in turn brought up the subject of mothers. Once again I found myself dabbing at my eyes with an already soaked tissue.
  After class was over I left the room. I needed to figure out what I was going to do. I went into the bathroom and into a stall. I leaned against the door and tried to pull myself together. I could get through this. All I needed to do was get through this one hour and then I could go home. I didn't want to go to Relief Society. I wouldn't be able to keep from tearing up and that would ruin the party I knew was planned.
  I decided to walk away from the Relief Society meeting room and see what opened up. I passed a door going out. It had rained but there was a nice spot on the step that was dry. I thought the fresh air would be nice. I went out and sat on the step. I put my rose and bag next to me and opened up a church magazine to read. Much better. A few minutes later ,Jeanette ,the Stake Relief Society president walked by. She asked if I was teaching. I said no. She went into the building. A few minutes later she came out again. She needed her I Pad. She asked me if I was going to come in. I told her no and started to tear up again. I was fine where I was and was planning to stay outside. She said she wasn't going to pry but wanted me to know that she loved me. I said thank you and buried myself in my magazine to try to stop crying.
  A few minutes later another woman came out. She saw me sitting alone outside and asked me if I wanted to come in.  I told her that Mother's Day was a little rough. I was much better off where I was. She admitted that Mother's Day wasn't her favourite holiday either and she had kids. We talked for a few more minutes. She hugged me and went back into the building.
  I pulled myself together and started to read again. I saw water drops on my magazine. They weren't tears because I wasn't crying. I ignored them hoping they would stop. They didn't. It was obviously  going to rain. Clearly God wanted me inside. I bowed to the inevitable, stood up and gathered my things. I just couldn't bring myself to go into Relief Society, but I needed somewhere quiet to sit. I went inside and turned right. Partway down the hall on the right side was an open door. The room was empty. It was just what I wanted. There were two chairs and a small table. There was light from a window. Perfect. I could read until I heard the bell then I could find C and we could go home.
  I stepped inside and wondered if I should close the door. A closed door might attract more attention. I left the door open. My chair was in a corner and I would not be seen unless someone looked inside.  I would be alone just like I wanted.
   I was a few paragraphs into the talk I was reading when Marta appeared at the door. She was holding a small plate of food from the lunch that was being served to the Relief Society. She felt bad that I was all alone and wanted to bring me a plate. She told me that her daughter had got a hat and said that now she could wear hats like I do. That started both of us crying. She said that she understood and left me to go back.
  I tried to get myself under control again. It was hard. I was so touched that Marta had brought me this plate. We barely knew each other. What made her do that? I wondered how she had even found me. Had she wandered around looking in empty rooms looking for me? Did she somehow know which room I was in? I was mystified. I put my magazine in front of my plate and stated to eat and read again.
  Minutes later someone else came in. It was Bishop Nealy. I decided to try humour, I was tired of tearing up every time someone talked to me. "For crying out loud," I said, "Can't a lady get any peace around here?!" It sounded pretty weak, but it was the best I could do.
  "This is a church, " he said, "There is no peace here. Especially for a Bishop."
  "Don't you have someone you need to counsel?" I answered.
   "I am" he said.  At that moment his wife,Karen, came in to let him know that the he was needed somewhere. I expected her to leave with him, but she sat down instead. Clearly I was not going to be left alone.
  "I'm all right." I said as I started to tear up yet again. 
   "Obviously not, you're crying." she replied. I should have known better. She has a psychology degree. I gave in and explained to her why Mother's Day was so tough. She understood, sometimes it didn't feel like much of a holiday to her either. She said pretty soon she would need to go and help clean up. I told her that if she could wait until I'd finished the rest of the food on my plate, I would come with her to help. So she told me about her oldest daughter's plans for the next few years. I was impressed at what she was planning to do. She is very obviously a very organized young lady.
   We walked back to the kitchen. I left my bag and rose. We went to the Relief Society room to take the food back to the kitchen. I snagged an M&M cookie. (I can't resist them.) I started to feel better. I wished I would have helped out in the kitchen sooner. Having something to do took my mind off of what was bothering me. I was able to be around people without tearing up. Wonderful. We brought the food back to the kitchen. I helped put things back into containers and rinsed out dishes.
  There was nothing left to do so I gathered my things and left. I walked out to the car somewhat bemused. The women in this Church are amazing. I'd never had anyone treat me like that. I had heard of the ministering of angels before, but I had never been on the receiving end of that ministering. Four women had stopped to talk to me when they could have easily gone about their business and ignored me. One of them specifically brought me a plate. None of them knew me that well. All of them cared enough to stop.
  The other thing that occurred to me is that I'm not alone. Mother's Day can be rough even for women who have children and haven't been disowned. It never occurred to me. I learned that I felt better if I had something to do. If I wind up not working on Mother's Day next year, I wonder if anyone would mind me knitting in Relief Society?