A Dangerous Woman
By Kimberli Pelo Robison

I first saw her waving from a balcony with the royal family. It was the royal wedding of Prince Charles and Lady Diana and there she was, a sweet looking, white haired lady in a pastel dress and hat. I soon found out that she was the Queen Mother, the matriarch of the royal family. What I didn't know until much later was that when she was queen Hitler considered her the most dangerous woman in Europe.

She refused to be intimidated by his threat of invasion and, while other European kings and queens fled their homelands, she declared, “I shall not go down like the others.” Her radio messages brought hope to many living under Nazi occupation, and at home, she took action in whatever way she could. She gathered the palace staff together every week to work for the Red Cross. She had the estates plowed up and planted with food for her people. When London was bombed, she and the King refused to leave, and then daily went to bombsites to comfort and strengthen their people. (The Queen Mother: A Woman of Her Century, History Television International, 2000). She was dangerous to Hitler because she recognized evil for what it was, a plot to destroy her kingdom and enslave her people.

Could I Be?

As I've thought about this strong woman I have wondered if I could be a dangerous woman like her. Do I recognize evil for what it is, a plot to destroy my home and enslave my family? Does the work I do put me in active opposition to that plot? But then, could the work I do so routinely in my home actually be dangerous to the enemy? How could wiping noses and tears, patching knees and playing games, rocking and reading make a difference?

As I walked away from the September 2002 General Relief Society Conference, I wondered how many times I would need to be told that the little things I am doing are the most important things before I really believed it. At that meeting Sister Bonnie Parkin reminded us, "When it comes to families, we cannot afford indifference and distraction. Childhood is a vanishing wonder . . .Sisters, the Lord needs women who will teach children to work and learn and serve and believe. Whether they are our own or another's, we must stand up and state, "Here am I; send me to watch over your little ones, to put them first, to guide and protect them from evil, to love them" (Ensign, November 2002, 105).

Do we really need reminding that mothering is so vital and so dangerous to Satan's plot? I think we do. Somehow with the fast paced, instant gratification mode of our lives, we too often forget that the slow, steady work of mothering is the greatest work we could do. Perhaps it is the extraordinary ordinariness of the work that leads us to believe that anyone could do it as well.

No Star on Your Forehead

It's no wonder we struggle to find significance in these tasks when we have learned so perfectly that what has value and is rewarded is what gets done, and a mother's work is never done. You see, r eceiving rewards for work is how the world is run. At school it is the finished work that gets the praise, the star, the 'A.' No one pats you on the back for the process; it is the product that gets the smiley face.

Jobs for hire have the same kind of system. You don't get stars and grades, but if nothing else you get a paycheck. You can hold in your hand the product of your work. Your work is worth something. For twenty-seven years I lived this system of working, producing and receiving rewards. Then I became a mother.

A little bundle of warmth and love entered my life and took it over completely. I happily entered this job of mothering; it was exactly what I had always wanted. I had hoped and prayed for the day I could stay home and raise a houseful of little children. What I didn't realize was that old ways would be so hard to replace. It was hard for me to give up producing and receiving tangible rewards, for works in progress and rewards of the heart.

Motherhood is full of rewards they are simply not the kind I was accustomed to. My children's laughter, their smiles and sweet voices, the family sitting around the table for dinner, a sleeping babe in my arms at the end of the day, these are rewards that are held in the heart, not in the hand.

There are still times I panic and feel certain that I need to be producing something, having something to show for my work. I start setting goals and rampaging through the lives of my family trying to accomplish things. My children, my constant barometers, quickly show me that they will have none of it and call me back to enjoying the process with them. It is loving the process of life that takes some relearning. Children instinctively understand that process is more important than product. The stacking of blocks is more important than the tower. The smooshing and squooshing of finger paint on paper is more important than the painting. The singing is more important than the song.

Doing Exactly the Right Things

Still, I struggle with this concept all the time. I wish I knew that I was doing exactly the right things for my children. If only they had little meter readings on their bellies. I could go in at night after they had gone to sleep and see how I've done. "Well, look how many synapse connections were made today! Looks like her love bucket is full. She got all the nutrients she needs to grow." I could have daily peeks at how I am doing. Yet, that is not the nature of the job. It is a work of patience and faith.

Nature has something to teach us about this patience with the process. Anyone who has been to Arches National Monument can't help but be awestruck by the beauty of the place. It is a wonder how the wind and water carved and molded their way through the soft sandstone, creating amazing arches and canyons. These were not produced in a moment, by a mighty blast of wind or one torrential rainstorm. It was day by day, year by year, a drop here and a breeze there. The wind and rain may have only taken a few grains of sand from the stone, but little by little their work was accomplished. Now generations of people can look with wonder upon their work

The Wind and Rain

I like to think that I am like the wind and rain upon the soft souls of my children. My work is done day by day, year by year, a touch here, and a gentle word there. I may not see the effects of my efforts for years to come, and yet my heart whispers that I am doing something of great importance.

Not only does my heart whisper this truth to me, but also the scriptures reaffirm that belief. I love the scripture in Doctrine and Covenants 64:33 that states, "Be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great." Believe me, I get weary often and wonder if I am doing anything great. But I take the Lord at his word that out of small things, like my little ones, will precede something great.

Something Elder Henry B. Eyring said gives me hope. “I never see a mother juggling three little children who are crying while she is smiling, as she shepherds them gently, without seeing in my mind's eye her day of honor in the presence of the only Judge whose praise will finally matter" (Ensign, October 2002, 19).

So perhaps the work I do in my home really is the most dangerous to the enemy of our souls. For I, a mother in a remote corner of this world, do a work of true significance. I nurse a baby, play in the snow with my children, read them stories, hold them, hug them, sing lullabies, teach and train them.

Like the work of nature, my work may also seem insignificant. However, I am not working to produce something for today. My work is to build something that will last beyond time. I touch the soul of a child and that will make all the difference in the world. Though my work is never done, the results of my work never end either. They extend through time and eternity for generations to come. And when the day comes that I meet the Judge whose praise I most treasure I hope he will say, "You were a most dangerous woman in my cause."