Are You My Mother?

(Sister G. Silva)

My mind tonight is a melancholy violin. The song is sad and hopeful - pensive and grateful.

When you decide to start trying to have a baby, your mind becomes a breeding ground for schizophrenia. You go through a journey of self doubt about whether you're ready for such a responsibility. Some days the thought of swaddling a little infant in your arms makes your eyes well up with joyful tears. And other days you feel beaten down by the horrible realization that things aren't happening as quickly as you'd planned. The self doubt creeps back under your skin and whispers that maybe things will never be as you planned. That swaddled baby may never come.

During a church lesson several weeks ago, a former nurse taught the people here how to properly nourish and care for infant children. The topic was interesting and well prepared, but it was no match for my schizophrenic thoughts pulling me in different directions. As my mind routinely wandered through the mucky waters of doubt and sadness, a single thought brought unimaginable clarity to my mind. The phrase suddenly came to my mind as if I'd memorized every word.

"And Mary said, Behold the handmaid of the Lord. Be it unto me according to thy word."

That last part repeated over and over in my mind. Be it unto me according to thy word. The Holy Ghost quietly whispered to my heart that Mary was a mother long before she conceived of the Son of God. I've never heard that spoken by a soul. That thought had never before crossed my feeble mind. I knew that God was talking to me through the power of the Holy Ghost. I saw in my mind's eye images of nurturing women in my life. Thoughts of motherly acts from people that indeed had no children. God was teaching me that all women can be mothers.

One of the thoughts that came to me in that moment was of my trainer on my mission. Her name was Sister G. Silva. She was an energetic, bubbly Brazilian from Rio. I had been in the missionary training center for two months and I didn't speak a lick of Portuguese. It didn't help that the only English she knew were the words from a few popular pop songs at the time. Her favorite song was "I don't want another pretty face, I don't want just anyone to hold, I want you and your beautiful soul." I can still hear her hilarious accent singing that. Although our communication ability was at a minimum, she learned to communicate with me through her actions. It may sound strange, but she held my hand sometimes as we walked down the street when she could tell I was feeling a bit homesick. She literally tucked me into bed at night. And she was constantly doing goofy things to make me laugh. I felt like a child, lost and helpless. She was my mother.

A few weeks into my time in Brazil, I contracted a horrible illness called ITP. ITP is an auto immune disease where your body attacks your blood platelets. I started to get red bumps and bruises all over my body and then started excreting gushing blood every couple of minutes. They rushed me to to the hospital, where they discovered that my platelet level was at 3,000. Normal levels are between 150,000 and 450,000. Levels less than 5,000 can cause hemorrhaging and death.

I was in the hospital for two weeks. Sister G. Silva, my Brazilian mother, took meticulous notes every time a nurse or doctor came in to give me medication. She bathed my naked body because I was too weak to do it myself. She held my hair back when I threw up from the medications. She brushed my hair, tickled my back, and selflessly served me during those two weeks. She did hilarious things with hospital gowns and masks to make me pee the bed laughing. She was my angel in that horrible moment. She was my mother.

I think Sister G. Silva will forget about me someday. But I will never in all of eternity forget what that wonderful angel did for me. I love her more than I can express. She taught me on my mission what it was to be a nurturing mother. The memory of her kindness is teaching me now how I can be a mother to many.

This morning I found out that Sister G. Silva's fiance died of cancer last night. He suffered much during the past couple of months. I'm sure that her nurturing kindness and love brought him great joy in his last days on earth. My heart breaks for her tonight and I only wish that I could be there to take care of her the way she did for me. I wish I could be her mother tonight.

We are handmaids of the Lord.

We all are mothers.