As I reflect on my life, the single thing that has made the most difference and been most helpful and empowering for me is to be born to Beth Ashton Cutler. Her example of Christlike attributes, modeled for me over the years, is a constant reminder of how to act, how to be happy, and how to handle challenges. I wish each of you could have known her better! Those of you who remember her, knew her as a loving grandmother, and as a hard worker (and a supervisor of your work), but she had so many other great qualities. The most important is love. I always, even when I was being disciplined, knew she loved me. She never withheld or measured her love -- she always believed in me, had confidence in me, and looked for the good in me. Together with my dad, they made our home a place of peace and refuge and taught faith, responsibility and kindness by their actions.
I'm not sure how she turned out to be a great mother when she had no one to model her mothering after. Her memories of her own mother where vague, since she died when she was only six, but she asked her family and extended family about her mom and found out all she could about her, and tried to be like her. And those first six years she had with her mom must have given her a foundation of love, together with the influence of her amazing father over the years. (Also, she read lots of child-rearing books and tried to learn all she could from others.) I'm so thankful Stewart has supported me in being home with our children, especially during those early, formative years.
I guess the thing I am still amazed at is how she never criticized other people. I didn't realize until after "Grandma Ashton," my step-grandmother, died, that my mom was criticized constantly as a child. (I only learned that overhearing Mom's sisters talk to each other while I helped clean Grandpa's house, and I was so surprised!) From the age of seven when Grandpa Ashton remarried, until my mom left home to be married, she seldom had a kind word from her stepmother. She never mentioned this to me, and I'm not sure she would want anyone else to know about it, but I am amazed that she didn't repeat this pattern in her life. She was always complimentary of her step-mother, never complained or said anything negative about her. But in her own life, she didn't criticize others and made certain we didn't either.
We never knew that much of her childhood was unhappy. We heard about how happy she was when her Dad came home from work and how he carried her and her sister around on his feet and hugged them. She told us how she loved playing with her cousins, putting on plays with her sisters, and holding "butterfly funerals," where Aunt Mary (her oldest sister) was always the spokesperson. She loved her sisters. (My Dad recognized Beth as Georgia's sister in high school because they wore each others clothing so much!)
One memory I have is of a woman in our ward standing up to bear her testimony and being very emotional as she recounted how much my mom had helped her. She was poor and with a big family, and her husband and children were less active. She didn't have friends in the ward and was socially awkward. That's what my mom did -- she quietly watched for the people who needed a friend and reached out to them. She wasn't in the popular groups, going to lunch together or playing golf, etc. She looked out for the people newly moved in, the poor immigrant family, the widow, the person no one else talked to. Although she had little spare time with a large family and a very busy husband, she included these women in work projects and reached out to them at church activities and on Sunday. As a teenager I wished she'd been friends with my friends' moms, but now I know that what she did was much more important. She always encouraged us to look for the people who were alone and needed a friend, and to be one.
So today, on her birthday -- or whenever you read this--I challenge you to be kind to someone who needs a friend. And keep your mouth shut when you think of a criticism you could make of someone. That's what I'm going to try to do today.
I'm not sure how she turned out to be a great mother when she had no one to model her mothering after. Her memories of her own mother where vague, since she died when she was only six, but she asked her family and extended family about her mom and found out all she could about her, and tried to be like her. And those first six years she had with her mom must have given her a foundation of love, together with the influence of her amazing father over the years. (Also, she read lots of child-rearing books and tried to learn all she could from others.) I'm so thankful Stewart has supported me in being home with our children, especially during those early, formative years.
I guess the thing I am still amazed at is how she never criticized other people. I didn't realize until after "Grandma Ashton," my step-grandmother, died, that my mom was criticized constantly as a child. (I only learned that overhearing Mom's sisters talk to each other while I helped clean Grandpa's house, and I was so surprised!) From the age of seven when Grandpa Ashton remarried, until my mom left home to be married, she seldom had a kind word from her stepmother. She never mentioned this to me, and I'm not sure she would want anyone else to know about it, but I am amazed that she didn't repeat this pattern in her life. She was always complimentary of her step-mother, never complained or said anything negative about her. But in her own life, she didn't criticize others and made certain we didn't either.
We never knew that much of her childhood was unhappy. We heard about how happy she was when her Dad came home from work and how he carried her and her sister around on his feet and hugged them. She told us how she loved playing with her cousins, putting on plays with her sisters, and holding "butterfly funerals," where Aunt Mary (her oldest sister) was always the spokesperson. She loved her sisters. (My Dad recognized Beth as Georgia's sister in high school because they wore each others clothing so much!)
One memory I have is of a woman in our ward standing up to bear her testimony and being very emotional as she recounted how much my mom had helped her. She was poor and with a big family, and her husband and children were less active. She didn't have friends in the ward and was socially awkward. That's what my mom did -- she quietly watched for the people who needed a friend and reached out to them. She wasn't in the popular groups, going to lunch together or playing golf, etc. She looked out for the people newly moved in, the poor immigrant family, the widow, the person no one else talked to. Although she had little spare time with a large family and a very busy husband, she included these women in work projects and reached out to them at church activities and on Sunday. As a teenager I wished she'd been friends with my friends' moms, but now I know that what she did was much more important. She always encouraged us to look for the people who were alone and needed a friend, and to be one.
So today, on her birthday -- or whenever you read this--I challenge you to be kind to someone who needs a friend. And keep your mouth shut when you think of a criticism you could make of someone. That's what I'm going to try to do today.
