In some way that only the Lord could have orchestrated, I came across this journaling edition of the Book of Mormon. And I knew immediately it was meant for my mom. Even though it wouldn't arrive until closer to the end of August (it was brand new and the first copies were in the process of being ordered), I felt strongly it was perfect for her and exactly what I should give her for her birthday. I ended up ordering two copies, thinking that we could both read and mark our own, and it would make me happy to know that I was studying the exact same version of the Book of Mormon as my mom. I made a birthday card for my mom and included a page inside, with pictures and a description of what she would be receiving in a few short weeks.
At my mom's birthday celebration, I gave her the card and she seemed sweetly happy about the gift. She said she loved it and was anxious for it to arrive. I felt so grateful I had found something she wanted and could look forward to receiving.
Fast forward many weeks to the end of August/beginning of September. My mom's health had declined rapidly within just a couple of weeks and she was taken to the hospital and put in the ICU for several days. On Tuesday, September 4th, my incredible dad brought her home on hospice for her final days. I don't even have words for the emotion or heartbreak we were all experiencing during that time.
I had seen my mom every day for many days and the morning of September 5th was no different. I was at home getting ready to go see her when a package was delivered. I quickly opened it, in the hopes I could put its contents away and have things tidy and in order when I returned home later in the day. When I pulled the packing paper out of the box, I was stunned into silence.
Both copies of the Book of Mormon, that I had ordered more than two months previous, sat in that box. To be honest, I had completely forgotten about them. They were not even a thought in my mind with everything that had been happening with my mom. I pulled the top one out, saw how beautiful and perfect it was, exactly what my mom would love, and then covered my face and shook with sobs to the deepest part of my heart. My mom would never hold that book, open that book or read a word from its pages. She would never mark it up or share her thoughts on its pages. And I didn't know how to deal with that knowledge. I cried and cried and cried, my heart shattering for the millionth time in the last few days.
As my tears subsided, I realized I had no idea what to do with that book. I felt silly giving it to her when there wasn't anything she could do with it. And to be honest, the thought of presenting that book to her, completely broke my heart. I didn't want to, because I knew I would be a mess doing it. I tried to talk myself into keeping it, as it wouldn't do her any good now, or even giving it to my sweet Annie, to use in her grandma's honor. But my heart knew it wasn't mine to keep or to give to someone else. It was my mom's. It always had been and always would be. It didn't matter if she could use it or not, it belonged to her and I knew I needed to give it to her, like I had planned those weeks previous.
So I sat down, opened up to the first page and wrote a message to my mom. That message is just for my heart and hers, but it was from my heart and it made me incredibly emotional. I could hardly get through it, even though it wasn't very long. I finished and sat for a while until my crying lessened. Then I took a deep breath and walked out to the car with the book, taking it exactly where it belonged.
When I arrived at my parents' house, I walked back into my mom's room. I greeted her as I always did, "Hi, my sweet mom!" and asked her how she was doing. She was fading fast and while she responded, it was soft and reserved. Then I told her I had a gift for her. I held it up, showing it to her and opening to several pages so she could see how beautiful it was in every way. I then asked her if she wanted me to read the inscription. To be honest, I didn't want to, but I worried if I didn't, she wouldn't ever see it. She told me she did and so I read to her. And cried through every word. I couldn't help it. It was such a beautiful, heartbreaking, touching, horrible moment.
My mom passed away eight days later.
Right after her death, I visited my dad at their house. My mom decorated their home and it is truly a thing of beauty. Everything she did was beautiful and their home was at the top of that list. Every room, every space is intentionally decorated in a way that kind of takes your breath away. And so I never in a million years expected that as I walked into their main family area, the book I gave my mom would be sitting on one of her most treasured tables, among many of her beautiful decorations. It doesn't matter if it stays there for ten more minutes or ten more years, just seeing it there healed my heart in a small way that I didn't know was possible.
My parents taught me to love the Book of Mormon with every part of my heart. I initially leaned on their testimony when I was young and first began reading from its pages. But for many years now, my testimony has been my own. It is one of the greatest gifts the Lord has ever given me and I love this book, truly another testament of Jesus Christ, with my whole self. It has changed me as a person, it has made me a better wife and mother and friend, it has taught me to love my Savior in a way nothing else could, its pages tell me every single day that my Heavenly Father loves me and the truth it shares, tells me that I will see my mom again. I don't hope it or think it or want it to be so. I know it. I absolutely know it.
My favorite talk ever given on the Book of Mormon. This is one of those talks where
listening to it makes it even more powerful than reading it. It is worth your time. I promise.
listening to it makes it even more powerful than reading it. It is worth your time. I promise.










