Mother’s Day

Note from Lynette:  While I really debated on whether or not to put up just parts of this letter, I decided to put up the whole thing as it really is Haley’s testimony of the greatness of motherhood.  I am humbled by her words and know that actions like mine are repeated in many, many homes in the world by women who value their divine roles as mothers just as I do.  Man, I love my Haley.

Dear Family,

Man it was so so good to you all! I love you so much 😀
Ok, so since sending things to America is really expensive, for mother’s day, I am going to write my feeling out for you, Mommy. I know its not much, but all of the words in this email come from the bottom of my heart. Also from the top and the middle, because I love you with my WHOLE heart 😉
The best day of the year for church has got to be Mother’s day when the primary is in charge. Yesterday in church there was maybe 20 little Chinese, Filipino, and Indian munchkins running up and down the stage, occasionally getting to where they need to be. The kids all got up in pair or trios with their brother and sisters also in Primary and gave talks about how and why they love their mothers. The Z kids talked about how their mom made them good rice fish and eggs, while the Bishop’s sons said how their mom taught them how to be ‘good boys.’ I couldn’t help but think of MY mother and everything she taught me. 
My earliest memory of my mom was when I was three or four. We were still living in Canada and Summer was just a toddler. I had a horrible dream one night that had something to with Summer being eaten by a vampire midget in a room made out of pink insulation. At the time we were living in an unfinished basement and mom said not to touch the insulation to you wouldn’t get ichy, so you can see how this was a valid fear. Anyway, I woke up screaming in terror that my baby sister was being eaten by such a vampire midget. Mom rushed in to see why I screaming, like any light sleeping mother. After what must have been a rushed four year old version in gibberish of my dream, she held me in her arms and asked if I wanted to say a prayer. I was too distraught to speak anything close to discernible, so mom held me tight there and asked heavenly father to calm my heart and bring peace to my mind so I could sleep. To this day, I learned the importance of prayer. Just last night I prayed sitting next to our washing machine, begging heavenly father to let it work so I could wash my clothes for today. I’m happy to report that I have clean clothes that were washed last night 🙂 Prayer works, and my mother taught me that. 
Through out my life, my mom has been an exemplary homemaker. Every morning before school, we ate a breakfast my mom woke up at 5 to prepare. Whether it was pancakes or french toast or even muffins, We were always fed in the morning. She also packed us brown sack lunches every day. Only twice did I ever have to make my own because I left late for school and she wasn’t home, or something like that. Even when I was in university, and working, I always had a lunch packed with a sweet message on the bag, written next to the ‘H’ in black sharpie. She always kept our stomachs fed, but she also fed us with the good word of God. Every morning over those pancakes or french toast she read to us from the Book of Mormon. She always carefully explained the verses and tried to engage our sleep swept minds. I can’t tell you now what she read all those mornings, but I CAN tell you that she read them to us and she has a testimony of the Book of Mormon. That was some of the best mission prep I could have had. I can testify that the Book of Mormon is the word of God and I echo Joseph Smith’s words when I say that a man can grow closer to God by reading the Book and abiding by its precepts. 
My last memory to share illustrating only a few of my mother’s numerous qualities is from when I was 19…which is now. Every week I get to hear of her incredible faith in the emails she sends me. Her faith is what has kept me safe from speeding cars and from weird people here on my mission. Because of the faith of my mother, I don’t need to doubt. She has raised four stripling warrior children who are firm in the faith of the gospel because of her righteous example. I am forever thankful for my mother.
In addition to my birth mother, I have adopted mothers across the world! On my mission and in every area, I have a mother or grandmother. In KL it was Padmah and Alice, Sister Woodford and Delynne. In Penang it was Iswari and Poh Im, Karen Perkins and Sister Angus. And lets give a hand to my Missionary Mother, Sister Elisa Guzman, the woman who taught me how to be a missionary. She took me from the greenest of greenies that I was and turned me in the lean mean missionary machine that I try to be. She is the example of a work horse, even thought she is 5’2″ only. To all of these mothers, I also wish a Happy Mother’s Day. Thank you for being the hands of my biological mother when I didn’t have those with me. 
There is no greater calling than motherhood, and I am excited for the day I get to join your ranks. Happy Mother’s Day to all!
Sister Romney




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