Okay, take a moment to ooh and aah over the cover, then get back to me and my review. Don’t worry, I’ll wait. I’m just generous like that.
In Heather Moore’s book, Women of the Book of Mormon, we are allowed glimpses into the lives of all the women who were mentioned throughout the entire Book of Mormon. We learn about the twenty-four Lamanite women who were taken captive by Amulon and his band when they were found dancing by the river. We learn of Abish, King Lamoni’s wife, and of our first mother, Eve. Much of what is written in this book is background on the lives of the women from that time period. We learn about the daily work they had to do, the value they had in society, and the importance of the faith they taught to their children.
Heather’s previous books show the possible trials and faith of the women of the scriptures, which has been one of the many reasons I have found myself drawn to her writings. What was fun with this book going over the intimate implications of these women was the comfort women gain from other women. In a very real way, we need each other. We need those examples of faith to carry us through times that are too difficult for us to handle alone.
I found it interesting how Sariah gained comfort going through her trials by leaning on the faith of other women mentioned in the scriptures. I especially liked the reference to that mother we all share, Eve. It never occurred to me to think of the pain she had as mother raising Cain and then losing him to the jealousy and hatred he had for his brother. Heather points out that not all of us grow up with a mother who teaches the belief in Christ, but that we all share our first mother who stands as a supreme example to all of us.
There is an astounding amount of research put into this book and it’s obvious Heather as meticulous at crafting each segment.
A quote from the back cover:
Explore the lives, circumstances, and choices of women in the Book of Mormon in this uplifting and inspiring volume that illustrates the parallel between the lives of the women of the Book of Mormon and LDS women today. With new insights on practically every page, author Heather B. Moore explores the written and unwritten stories of the prominent women in the Book of Mormon—taking familiar material and providing vivid details about family dynamics, domestic practices, and other aspects of daily life. By applying historical and cultural contexts to the situations of women like Sariah, Abish, Eve, Mary and the faithful mothers of the stripling warriors, you will peek beneath the surface of the scriptural accounts to better understand both the righteous women of the Book of Mormon—and the women who didn’t use their agency wisely.
I recommend this book to any who desire a better understanding of what it might have been like to have been a woman throughout the ages of scriptural history. I walked away from reading this book edified and expanded in my knowledge, and appreciate the opportunity to have read it.
Lyrics from If I Only Had Today
If there were no more tomorrows
If I knew I could not stay
I’d know how I’d spend every minute
If I only had one day
I’ll Hold you and listen
I’ll let the dishes sit in the sink
I’ll tell you I love you
over and over
and for once just let that phone ring
I’d remind you of forever
and how our love will never change
If I only had today
I have no idea why this song is so stuck in my head today, but I love the message. So often I let moments pass me by–moments of my children wanting to play, wanting me to stop what I’m doing and really see them–listen to them. They are in front of me almost all the time, and yet I sometimes don’t see. And with my daughter gone, I realize how many moments I’ve lost to the world of ”busyness.”
Today is busy. Taxes, writing, editing, reading, working in my business, cleaning, cooking. It is a day filled with busyness. So was yesterday. And I’m wondering how my children feel when they get lost in all my busyness. My youngest suggested yesterday that I get a stress ball. He’s sure that will somehow help. A stress ball will not help. What I need is an accountant, a maid, a cook, and any other work for hire person to come save me from drowning in my to-do list. What I need is a time out and a hug.
I have mutated from a human being to a human doing. As a human doing, I am completely overwhelmed. But I’m not the only one who suffers. It isn’t like I never spend time with the kids, but that some days I get sidetracked and get suggestions of stress ball purchases. Today is a good day to remember that I brought those little people into the world so I could hold them and listen for a little while. It’s time to mutate back to a human being.
Why is it that whenever I read a book written by one of my friends that is classified as frightening (the book, not the friend), does my power always go off, leaving me in total blackness and terror? Seriously, I am determined to hate both Jeffrey Savage with his Dark Memories, and now Dan Wells with his I am Not a Serial Killer, for providing me with moments of total and complete, mind numbing, scream-your-throat-to-raw-hamburger terror.
I hate being afraid. Seriously. Hate. It. I don’t watch scary movies. I don’t read scary books. And I determined a long time ago that I would never WRITE anything scary.
Which is why yesterday is so baffling to me.
My brother called me with an idea for a book, one that I’d already considered and cast away because it wandered into the realm of scary, and I don’t write scary. I told him I don’t write scary and confirmed it with him several times throughout our conversation because I wanted to make sure he understood I meant it. Then we hung up.
And the idea banged around in my grey matter while I did dishes, while I vacuumed, while I got dressed, and while I sorted laundry. You see I told him that IF I were to write the story, it would have to be different from all the things that have been done before. It would have to be a YA book because I just don’t understand adults, and it would have to start out well enough to snatch the reader immediately. I gave him a long list of rules for such a book and all the things that would have to go into it.
And my mind couldn’t let go of how I could write the story and make it fit into all those rules. I called my brother back an hour later and gave him a brief synopsis of a storyline that would work.
He laughed that it only took me an hour to hammer out the storyline.
I hung up.
And wrote the first chapter.
It’s a great first chapter. It’s a great story.
Curses. I guess I do write scary stories after all.
The bad thing? The REALLY bad thing? Mr. Wright was out of town last night. I put the Wright brothers to bed and reached my hand out to turn out my bedroom light. My hand froze over the switch, hovering and shaking as though I were battling some unseen force (this force I like to call my personal irrational fear).
The personal irrational fear won over common sense. I slept with my stupid light on. I guess I write scary stories pretty well, because my first chapter scared the snot out of me.