By Sariah, Daughter of the Wilderness, Mother of Nations
I have walked through more wilderness than I ever imagined—both the one of dust and thorns beneath my feet, and the one within my heart.
I am Sariah, wife of Lehi, and mother to sons who have warred against each other since they were young. I bore them, I fed them, I sang to them as they slept—and I wept for them when they no longer listened to their father’s voice.
Laman. Lemuel.
Their names still sit on my tongue with love, even after all they’ve done.
They were never wicked from the beginning. No child begins that way. But the pride of the world grew in them like weeds choking the seed. They were strong, yes—clever, brave at times. But slow to hear the Spirit. Quick to take offense. And quicker still to mock the things of God.
I watched my husband—my dear Lehi—plead with them. He prayed in groves, he cried out in dreams, he bore their scorn with more patience than most men would ever have. And still, he loved them. Oh, how he loved them.
So did I.
And that’s what made it hardest.
To leave Jerusalem was one thing. To walk away from everything we owned, to follow my husband’s visions into a wilderness unknown—that tested me. I won’t pretend it didn’t. I murmured. I doubted. But the Lord confirmed His words to me. I knew then, and I know now, that Lehi was a prophet.
But nothing in the wilderness pierced me like the sight of my sons contending against each other. Against their father. Against God.
More than once, I held my husband as he sobbed for them. And more than once, I lay awake praying that the Lord would spare them, teach them, and turn their hearts.
Sometimes they softened. Sometimes they even believed. But the pull of pride… it is heavy. And my sons—my beloved, stubborn sons—could not see that they were breaking not just commandments, but hearts.
And yet, I never stopped loving them.
A mother cannot.
I also rejoiced in the sons who were faithful. Nephi, that blessed child, born in the strength of the Lord. Sam, steady and true. Jacob and Joseph—my miracle sons born in the desert. God gave me hope through them.
And God gave me Lehi.
He was not perfect—but he was obedient. He taught us with tears and truth. He led our family when everything else had been stripped away. I loved him when he had wealth and influence—and I loved him even more when all he had left was his faith.
I miss him now.
He has gone to his rest, but I remain. Still loving, still hoping, still praying for my sons.
Even for Laman and Lemuel.
Perhaps one day their children—or their children’s children—will remember the God of their fathers. Perhaps my prayers will echo long after I am gone.
And if so, then this wilderness… will have been worth it.
