I remember years ago when my father left our home for good. It was one of the saddest days of my life. I don’t think there was a more broken heart in the entire world than my mom’s at that time. She was spent emotionally and spiritually and appeared to have the weight of the world on her shoulders. Truly, she was without hope. She was alone now to raise her children without a husband and father and without financial help.

My mother had five children at home and one in college. My father had hidden all the money; we had very little, and we were struggling to survive financially. Before leaving, my father had moved us to a new area away from our home for the previous eight years. My mother had a job, but she did not make enough to raise a family of six children.

Two of the kids were somewhat self-sustaining as they were older and very helpful, but we were all reeling with the news and the situation. We were broke financially, broken in spirit, and we felt broken as a family. Our situation was dire and we were on the verge of losing the most important battle we would ever face, the battle to hold our precious little band together.

At this critical juncture when our family needed a little hope to survive, a “Captain Moroni” of sorts rose up to lead us. She didn’t dress in armor, and she didn’t ride from city to city, but she knelt in prayer and pleaded for her little precious family. Despite her deep personal losses and emotional devastation at losing her husband, my mother rose up.

She gathered the family together and we prayed and worked and in many ways she created a title of liberty. She said, “we can do this.” She rallied her children. We believed in her leadership. She led and we helped.  She remained faithful to God. At night between tears, there were fervent prayers for her children and family.

She was committed to church attendance and family night. She was committed to raising her children in the church. She said as Moroni did in many ways, “In memory of our God, our religion, our goals, our future and our family.” This little standard we had wasn’t fastened on a pole, but it was plastered to our hearts for the next few years as we attempted to not succumb and surrender to the adversary who attempted to defeat and destroy our family.

For the next few years I was amazed as I watched my mother work night and day. Like Moroni she “did not stop making preparations” (Alma 50:1). She worked full-time and attended school nearly full-time, and parented full-time. She had been a licensed practical nurse (LPN), and she went back and got a Bachelors degree in nursing.

She then continued on to get her Masters degree in Education. Finally, she received a Doctorate degree in Education. She became a principal and she was terrific in her job and what she did.  This took years of diligence and perseverance and a determined resolve.

Looking back, I don’t know how my mother accomplished what she did. I know we lost some of the battles, but we won the war. She never surrendered and so we never surrendered. How could one person do so much? How could she raise her children, obtain an education and keep pressing forward with faith like she did? 

She did it because in many instances a loving God carried her. She was able to see three of her children serve missions. I will always be grateful for a mother who returned home one day to find disaster brewing, but who decided to fight rather than surrender. Like Moroni she rose up and “put on the armor of God” and fought a good fight.