She was old and worn. a stroke had left her immobile and voiceless. As so often it is to those who have lived long and honorably, death was a blessed release.
Among her effects was a one-sheet hand-written letter addressed to her children, outlining the way her few belongings should be distributed. It concluded:"Please don't quarrel and be mad. I don't have anything worth that. i wouldn't rest alive or dead if there were feelings."
How profoundly that simple plea expresses a lesson so much of mankind has yet to learn.
Families quarrel and grow mad over inheritances that, though they may run into the millions of dollars, are never worth that.
Businessmen quarrel and cheat and sue and grow mad over equitites and takeovers and properties that are never worth that.
Politicians quarrel and abuse each other and grow mad in a struggle for power that is never worth that.
Nations quarrel themselves into such madness that armies march and missiles fly and bombs drop and widows and orphans fill the land with mourning. The pieces of real estate or political doctrines over which they quarrel are not worth that.
We can imagine that, like that humble mother, seeing such feelings, the Lord Himself doesn't rest well.
He told us as much. In the vision He gave to Enoch of the destiny of man, we learn that "the God of heaven looked upon the residue of teh people, and he wept . . . (and) said unto Enoch: Behold these thy brethren; they are the workmanship of mine own hands, and I gave unto them their knowledge . . . but behold, they are without affection, and they hate their own blood seeing these shall suffer?" (Moses 7:28, 32-33, 37.)
Love and harmony were major themes throughout the Savior's ministry. His first plea to the Nephite nation, after inviting them to feel of the wounds of the crucifixion and teaching them of baptism, was to shun disputation and contention:
"For verily, verily I say unto you, he that hath the spirit of contention is not of me, but is of the devil, who is the father of contention, and he stirreth up the hearts of men to contend with anger, one with another. Behold, this is not my doctrine, to stir up the hearts of men with anger, one against another; but this is my doctrine, that such things should be done away. (3 Ne. 11:29-30.)
How is that possible, among imperfect human beings? The answer can only be found in the Savior's doctrine of love.
That common man's philosopher, the late Sydney Harris, had a special flash of insight into the causes of contention, and the nature of the true love that cures it:
"The principal difference between love and hate," he wrote in his newspaper column, "is that love is an irradiation, and hate is a concentration. Love makes everything lovely; hate concentrates itself on the object of its hatred.
"All the fearful counterfeits of love - possessiveness, lust, vanity, jealousy - are closer to hate; they concentrate on the object, guard it suck it dry. . . . True love - as rare in reality, I am convinced, as it is popular in fancy - is an irradiation outward from the loved one to the world. It is impossible to love one person and not see that everyone else shares, to some degree, in the qualities that makes this person lovable.
"Love is essentially not a private relationship but a social one. Finding another person's worth is finding the worth that resides, actually or potentially, in all people; giving to one poor, frail fallible mortal is the human counterpart of God's givingness to all creation." (Deseret News 10/20/81.)
That comes close to the kind of love God pleaded with mankind to feel. Love like that leaves no room for the venality or pride or power-lust that makes men quarrel and be angry. To the extent that each of us can feel - and practice - love like that, our mothers and our God can rest easy.