In Exodus 2: (5-6), it says: “And the daughter of Pharaoh came down to wash herself at the river; and her maidens walked along by the river's side; and when she saw the ark among the flags, she sent her maid to fetch it.
And when she had opened it, she saw the child: and, behold, the babe wept. And she had compassion on him, and said, ‘This is one of the Hebrews' children.’
I’d like to say that Pharaoh’s daughter is a woman that, despite not having children of her own, looks beyond herself and has a maternal influence over those who need it.
Last year, my friend—who is about my age and has had no prior children before this—got married to a man only four years her senior and became an insta-grandma at the age of 38. This means that not only does she now have stepchildren, but those stepchildren have children. My friend, who had thought that she’d never have any children, now has three stepchildren in high school and she is raising a step-granddaughter and, as of this Saturday, is officially adopting that granddaughter as her own. My friend took this all on with courage and a laid back attitude. There have been many miracles involved in getting her family to where it is now.
To her new family, my friend is like Pharaoh’s daughter.
One day, my sister, Jacqueline (who is also in this ward—there she is over there) was driving a niece and nephew around during a family reunion. This niece and nephew are both children from different siblings and are as different as can be. One is a too-cool-for-school seventeen year-old-girl and the other is a rambunctious, bobble-headed eight-year-old boy who always gets into mischief—remember the crushed garage door? Yeah, that’s him.
My sister, Jacqueline, was in the middle of teasing our niece. I’m sure our niece was probably texting at the time because she’s THAT cool, when Jacqueline said, “Well, since I don’t have kids of my own, I need someone to take care of me in my old age. Hey, if you do, I’ll leave all my money to you.”
Of course, the joke was that Jack doesn’t have ANY money and my sister was going to go on about all the horrible things Samantha would have to do to take care of her. But then my nephew piped up in the back and completely ruined the teasing moment by saying, “You know, Jacqueline. Even though you don’t have kids, it’s like you do. You have more kids than anybody. All of your nieces and nephews are like your kids. We’ll all take care of you when you’re old.”
Our sophisticated niece got really quiet in the car and later, she said, “I couldn’t even talk. I was going to cry.”
I love those kids.
Both this teenage girl and this rambunctious boy have a special bond with Jacqueline. They love and respect her because she cares about them. To them, she’s Pharaoh’s daughter.
In my last ward, I got to work with the young women (strangely enough, all of us leaders working with the young women weren’t married and we had no experience with raising our own children, so we were going at this blind). Some of the beehives that we worked with came from families who were trying to better their lives after leaving the homeless shelter. Their own mothers were in jail, on drugs, or mentally handicapped, so a lot of responsibilities for raising these young women fell into our hands.
I thought then that I could imagine how Pharoah’s Daughter did when she pulled Moses out of the water.
We had good times with these girls, but there were also times of struggle. Some of them were really hurting. There were social media battles and problems with bullies and abuse and self-harm. We filled out food orders and tried to find them clothes; we caught bedbugs. The girls would hug us and tell us that they loved us and then the next time they saw us that they hated us. They were going through a lot!
It was tough. I felt like I was doing everything wrong. I didn’t feel like I was helping them at all. I’m not a mother and I still felt my imperfections with mothering.
And yet . . .
When my own mother came from Washington to visit, she saw me getting ready for Trek with these girls. My mom whisked out my sewing machine that I had never bothered to learn back in the day, (she always warned me that I should), and she decked these girls out as the best dressed pioneers out there with matching pink bonnets and flowing skirts.
My mother was so touched by these girls that when I looked at her Mother’s Day talk from last year, I saw that out of her 10 children (8 of whom are actual parents), that I was the one who got an honorable mention. She said:
“One of the girls had NEVER OWNED a dress, and she just kept whirling around and then watching as the skirts settled around her, like a flower as she sat on the floor. It was an enchanting experience.”
My mom went on to say, “Then came Trek-week, and Stephanie had further ‘mom-experiences’ as her ‘children’ made their wise and unwise choices [my mom always puts everything so nicely]. She said: “They all came through that experience blistered, tired but closer than ever.
My daughter had experienced the ‘best of times, and the worst of times’ in the world of mothering. She understands motherhood more and more each day, as do we all. We learn as mothers AND daughters.”
In this instance, I really couldn’t do it on my own. Pharaoh’s daughter and Jochebed joined forces to help out children in need.
Today, we continue to join forces. It happens for me when my siblings allow me a place in their children’s lives. Jochebed and Pharaoh’s daughter join forces again when I back up my siblings with motherly advice to their teens. We join forces when my siblings gather their kids together and make mother’s day cards for us. [Here’s mine! It might say Happy Birthday on it because my nephews think they’re sooo funny, but I’m taking it].
We join forces when we offer to babysit the younger kids and hold monthly slumber parties with the older ones. And yes, everyone here can join forces when we comfort a child of a stranger or shout out “good job” to a wobbly kid on a bike [but not too loud or he’ll fall over—guilty], or smile and wave at a friendly toddler at a grocery store.
In his “Forget me Knot” talk in a Relief Society general conference, President Uchdorft talks about an elementary school teacher who was so bitter that she didn’t have her own children that she failed to help the children all around her. He said, “The lesson here is that if we spend our days waiting for fabulous roses, we could miss the beauty and wonder of the tiny forget-me-nots that are all around us.”
And I would add, instead of getting caught up in how dirty the water was, Pharaoh’s daughter looked around the stream and saw a child who needed help.
And I would also add, instead of giving up in the face of impossible odds, Jochebed put her faith in Heavenly Father and placed her son in the stream.
Motherhood is a calling—be we Jochebed or Pharaoh’s daughter. And as with every calling, we struggle with our imperfections, but each of us brings our different skills and talents to the table. We offer what we are in the service of our fellow beings and in the service of our God. And in turn, we learn what we need to grow and to fulfill our mission in this life, and we are blessed as we bless others.
I’m grateful for my mother and for all the mothers, who are the sung and unsung heroes of our day. May we all hold onto each other with sweet embraces, lift each other up, and appreciate our differences and similarities. We must love each other as our Heavenly Father loves us, even as he blesses our efforts to be the daughters, sisters, and mothers that we are all meant to be.
