When I was young, my family suffered financial difficulties. To make a living for seven children, my mother used to do hard work such as repairing walls, floors, and toilets. Since she could not afford to hire an employee, she had to do it herself. I was the youngest daughter, and I was ashamed of my mother who did rough manual labor.
My mother also used to mend bags, sewing all night, for a small factory in order to buy food. I remember falling asleep, listening to the noise of her old sewing machine. Even though we were in a tight situation where we had to worry about meals, I was immature. “I’ve never received a birthday cake,” I complained with a sulky face on my birthdays. I wasn’t aware at all how much my mother was sacrificing for us.
Time passed. I got married and had a son. I threw a small party on my son’s birthday and invited my mother. She was very pleased and complimented me on the cake I made. I was older and had a child, but I was still immature. I became conceited at her compliment and uttered words that I would regret for the rest of my life.
“Mom, I learned how to bake a cake so that my child doesn’t get sad like I did. You never gave me a cake on my birthday.”
My mother looked very sad, but she didn’t say anything like a sinner.
After that day, my mother, who continued with her labors, became poor in health and lost her sight. Fortunately, she could live on a government pension.
One day, I heard a noise from the gate of my house. I went out to see what it was. My mother was there, holding a big and beautiful cake in her arms. I was surprised because she came unannounced. I was worried—how could she get here when she couldn’t see? But she came in and said to me, “I received my first pension today. My daughter, to this day I could not give you a cake on your birthday because I had no money. It always broke my heart. I got a pension today and I could buy a cake for you. Happy birthday, my dear daughter!”
My mother’s feet were bleeding. I asked her how she could come. She said she walked, recollecting how she had come before she lost her sight. But the bakery where my mom bought the cake was about a mile away from my house. Even for people with good eyesight, it’s not an easy distance. Then I realized what a bad daughter I was; rather than being grateful for giving birth to me and raising me, I only complained to my mother and hurt her feelings.
My mother couldn’t see, but she walked until she got blisters on her feet, just to give her daughter a cake. Her arms were swollen from carrying the heavy cake. I hadn’t understood my mother’s feelings. Doing heavy labor, she had given everything to her children, and yet I only complained to her like a kid. Though I was immature, she never said she didn’t like me, but she rather said she was sorry that she couldn’t do more for me. Seeing my mother smile brightly with the cake in her arms broke my heart.
My mother passed away, and now she isn’t with me. But I will never forget her great love and sacrifice. Whenever I see a cake, it revives the memory of that day. Then I miss my mom and shed tears profusely.
Remembering my mother’s love for me helps me understand Heavenly Mother’s love, even if it’s just a little bit. Heavenly Mother has suffered extreme pain alone to save Her children. Even though Her children are always complaining and asking for more, She looks at them with love, comforts them, and encourages them to enter the kingdom of heaven together without fail. Like my mother who walked a long way to meet her daughter even though she couldn’t see anything, Heavenly Mother has crossed the death line to find Her children. She has come to this earth, putting on the flesh Herself. She is praying for Her immature children to give them eternal life and happiness.
From the bottom of my heart, I ask Heavenly Mother for forgiveness. And I give all my thanks and love to Mother. Mother, thank You so much. I will remember Your great sacrifice all the time and make every effort to find my lost brothers and sisters.