Cheryl Ann Hawker Foster

Cheryl and I have shared the name Foster (it is a great last name, one that I will be reluctant to hopefully give up one day ;-) since I was 14 years old. However... we share more than that last name. We share an eternally perfect love for my brother, Ross, and her children: Quade (Mandy), Tate, McCray, Shad, and Delanie.  Sharing this kind of love strengthens and emboldens a relationship like nothing earthly can; no matter the personal differences. I think that is why building a relationship with a sister-in-law is different from a friend because you have a common purpose in mind...your family. This kind of love becomes a trump card to all else!

When I was young and naive I did not realize all the effort it takes to be a sister-in-law. I understand now that the blending of families includes blending traditions and ideologies, and sometimes learning to love those that you may not pick for your own, while avoiding compromising your core values. As I become more experienced with building relationships I learned the difficulty of this balancing act.  I am thankful to Cheryl for her acrobatics in this regard.

Cheryl is one of the hardest working women I know. She is a runner. I admire the dedication she puts into being a runner. I have seen the blisters on her feet, heard her sneak out of the house before the sun has risen, smelled the the fear of potentially not reaching her goals, nearly tasted the salt on her skin as sweat drips, and all the while feeling her love for the accomplishment and freedom that, I understand, accompanies the RUN. Her devotion to running blurs into the rest of her life, her friends, her religion, and particularly being a mom.  

I think Cheryl's attributes of hard work and dedication were exemplified by her own mom. If you know her beautiful mother, (Nana) JoAnn, this will not surprise you at all. If you don't her, well... you are missing out... because Nana fills each heart with goodness, sometimes through her food, sometimes with her hugs, and sometimes with her listening ear. All of this goodness makes her busy, which she loves, but more importantly she loves the reason she stays busy these days...her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Cheryl is on her way to being a clone of Nana, which in my opinion is one of the greatest compliments to her. Nana is beloved by all who meet her! Thank you Nana for raising a daughter that mimics the hard working, brave, motherly woman that you are.

The clearest fingerprint Cheryl has left on my soul is how to love your children and be a mom. Like her mother she has raised some amazing hardworking children. Each one of them have unique talents. They are respectful, kind, and confident. This seems to be quite a feat in this this day and age. I have seen the benefits of being a support and building a solid foundation for her children My sister mentioned in her blog Cheryl's ability to be an award winning cheerleader. Cheering her children on in academics, football, rodeo, art, dancing, and the gamete of other activities they have been or will be interested in. She is the great encourager! As a result she has raised children that are easy to love and adore. And...children who love and adore her. She illustrated for her children what it means to love and respect your parents by being an amazing daughter. This built a solid foundation for her children to imitate. She worries about Nana always, and tries to make sure she is taken care of and feels needed. Don't we all love to feel needed and capable?

Cheryl, thank you for loving my brother! You make him a happy man. Thank you for ever being the encourager. Thank you for being a brave, hard working woman. Your children are lucky to have you. Thank you for going on this journey of family with me. Sharing in this love has emboldened our family. Thank you!

Cheryl Lou

Dear Reader,

I have been trying to think of a way to take some pressure off of myself for a while now. Each week I spend time thinking about these beautiful women, but I want to engage my audience a little more. I thought, Reader's, that you might like to hear some other voices similar to my first lady Amy Christensen Malan; she shared with us some of the people that left fingerprints on her soul. And... I loved it! I hope this blog morphs a little as I engage some other voices. If any of you want to be a voice e-mail or Facebook me. I would love to share your fingerprints.

I told my sister, Rana, that my lady this week was going to be my sister-in-law Cheryl and she wanted to share a blurb; below is her voice. Thank you Raner Daner!

Cheryl Lou,

     Cheryl Hawker married my brother Ross and has been in my life since I was 12 yrs. old, more than half of my life. Through the years, we as the Foster Family have experienced heart ache, laughing, and trying times.  I would like to share some funny moments that I have shared with Cheryl, these experiences still make me giggle and bring a smile to my face.  Our family loves to camp. One experience that comes to mind happened two years ago.  Rochelle, Cheryl, Delanie and myself set out to find a hidden camp deep in the woods of Utah, little did we know that we would end up in Wyoming rather than Utah, and to top it off nearly running out of gas. Cheryl was such a good cheerleader, literally.  She continued to rub the dashboard as if sending good juju and willing the car to the nearest gas station.  If you were wondering we did make it to a gas station and we did find the camp site in the woods of Utah. ;)

     Some of you may know Cheryl, but if you don't, she is an avid runner, I mean getting up at the butt crack of dawn runner. :) Although I am not a runner, I admire her will to push herself and enjoy running at the same time.   During the same camping trip as described above, Cheryl woke up early one of the mornings to get that run in.  Needing some band aids on her poor worn out feet, she grabbed what appeared to be band aids.  When she returned back to camp that morning she asked what kind of band aids we used, up further investigation, she had used breathe rights strips.  We laughed thinking that was the funniest thing that had happened.  I am not sure if Cheryl uses them to this day, you will have to ask her. :)

     One of Cheryl's many hobbies is documenting life's adventures with photograph.  She is a picture taking fool. One adventure that our family was able to participate in was visiting family in Hawaii.  Imagine if you will flying all day, getting into a hot humid air port running on about 4 hours sleep, the only thing I wanted was to sleep.  Our uncle wanting up to see Hawaii at it's finest moment got us up early in the morning. I HATE MORNINGS, but I wanted to participate and wouldn't you know it, Cheryl captured the moment I happened to wake up.   Although I am not sure where picture is, I am sure if you ask Cheryl she is more than willing to share in my dislike for mornings. 

     Cheryl,  thank you for loving and adoring my nephews and niece, this very apparent in your documenting there every move, attending football games and rodeo's, and anything else they are involved in.   I know you have spent endless hours at hospitals and doctors offices loving and caring for your family. I  might add that you make delicious dessert, Texas sheet cake and Oreo salad.  Cheryl, thank you for your documenting abilities and for the giggles and snorts. Love you, Ranalee.

Amanda

Happy Birthday, Tomorrow M'dear Friend!!

Amanda came to work at the same salon that I worked at as a sales person the summer before she went away to University of Idaho. She was 18; I... was older. ;-) We always tell people that it was love at first sight. That we are soul-mates. The kind of friend you know you were destined to meet and somehow you knew them before you knew them. However, we did not actually become the type of friends who hang out, call regularly, and completely rely on, you know... BFF's, until much later. Initially, I talked to her at work or while I was doing her hair about life and all of her fun teenage/sorority/college experiences. We shared anecdotes and quips and thoughts about religion (We belonged to different religions and that always made the conversations interesting and full of passion. Luckily we were both respectful of on another understanding that God is not a respecter of persons.) and politics until before we knew it we were "BFF's".

The development of our friendship reminds me of the making of a bird nest. Several years ago I was walking down a street in Oswego, New York in late spring; trees lined the streets. On this particular day I was not in a hurry; I was just lolly gagging and taking time to smell the roses. ;-) I saw a bird nest that, apparently, fell out of the tree. The small nest was still intact, so I picked it up and carried it home. While I walked home I was studying the nest. I thought it was so interesting that a bird had built this intricate little home.
 Later that week, I was volunteering at the library and decided to look up how this process happened. I discovered that they find sticks, leaves, grass, string, and weave these items together with their beaks and feet. Then they find spider webs and other light vegetation and residual dirt which they spit on to make a glue. My mind began to draw all sorts of analogies from my experiences at the time to this process of providing a place of shelter and safety for a love one. And...again, as I thought of my friendship with Amanda my mind wandered to this day when I found a little treasure in nature. We built our friendship with the small things by sharing bits and pieces of our lives as we weaved these together we began to develop trust which became the spit or glue that built a nest of security. Our friendship became a place of refuge.

One of the things that drew me to Amanda was that I felt she was a lot like me. I saw myself in her choices and journey that she traveled from teenager to adult. We are both, I believe, innately good, but mischievous similarly. There is a line in a song by the Indigo Girls called "Closer to Fine" that I always think of when I am trying to describe the conundrum I feel in my soul, and that Amanda and I have talked about. They sing, "The darkness has a hunger that's insatiable and the lightness has a call that's hard to hear." The desire to follow our heart and intuition seems so much quieter then the mischievous flesh that calls us away from our authentic selves. I am delighted to have found a co-heart in my struggle; someone who understands and shares in my plight. Amanda taught me how to reconcile both attributes through communicating and reasoning in each situation. She taught me how to focus. I remember talking about this struggle especially during my prayers. She suggested that I write my prayers in a journal. I did this for three months and during those three months I felt my prayers were being answered. I had NOT felt that before or since.

Amanda taught me that age is arbitrary. We are several years apart and it does not matter. I think that I feel and seem so much younger to others because she does not treat me like I am any older then her. My favorite summer of all time was the summer of 2006. I loved it! It was the perfect storm. I worked only three days a week, it was the summer before my last year of college, and I was absolutely in love with a boy I was convinced I would marry (who would later shatter my heart). Early in the summer Amanda and I found a beach, which we called "noodle beach" because of the pool noodles that accompanied us each time, above Lucky Peak in Boise, Idaho. We would drive to our relatively hidden spot swim, lay out, and solve the worlds problems as well as our own. We talked about anything and everything from God, to science, to love, to sociology. We had a no agenda, agenda that allowed us to encounter each experience, however trite or frivolous, with maximum appreciation and absorption. I knew each day that I needed to savor every hour of that summer... and... Amanda helped me do just that.

Amanda, there are thousands of scenarios, zingers, esoteric jokes, and thought provoking ecclesiastical and sophical/secular moments that would show the world the enormity of my gratefulness for the fingerprints that line my soul because you are in my life, but what I want the world and you to know is that this earth would be a flat existence without Amanda Coonts. Thank you for being a woman who is a survivor, who is unique, and who takes the initiative to empower herself with knowledge.  

I echo my words from my introduction: "So often I hear women putting down other women; pointing out their faults and generally being negative. I keep wishing there was a way for many people to see what I have experienced with the women that I have had the opportunity to cross paths with. These women are kind, focused, generous, determined, loyal, beautiful, smart, sincere, and loving!" Amanda, thank you for being such a woman in my life. Thank you for NEVER putting me down, in fact for ALWAYS encouraging me to take care of myself, love myself, and be kind to myself. You did this by taking care of me, loving me and being kind to me. Thank you for embracing and finding entertainment in my contradictions like: sophisticated and crass; clever and silly; smart and flighty; ...and philosophical and absent minded. I am more comfortable in my contradictions because of you. I love you dear friend!

Amy Payne (AKA: Amanda Ann Hand)

This month many years ago I was sent away to live with my cousin/aunt in California for the summer. I was 11 years old: scared, feeling completely alone. I thought I was a burden on everyone and that no one knew what to do with me. My friends were changing and I was not quite sure where I belonged. I became determined that I belonged only to myself. I am certain if it were not for my introduction to Amy I would have completely withdrawn from life and been a different person altogether. She saved me from myself. I met her within the first week. Amy's family and my cousins' family were friends. At our first meeting we went water skiing and became fast friends while we soaked up the sun, fun, and water; just kicking back on the boat pretending to be teenagers. As the dog days of summer strolled by the pathway between our houses became a routine hike, and I barely remember a day that we didn't see or talk to each other. Toward the end of the summer I remember sitting on the floor, in my cousin's sunken living room, in front of the piano, with Amy. She had brought over a little box of letter writing equipment: pens, pencils, stationary, and I believe "hello kitty" post-its. We decided that we would be pen pals and write each other often. She had already written on the post-its fun things that we had done like coming up with nicknames for each other and boys in the neighborhood, (i.e. BBQ) boating, girls camp, and especially our shared  responsibility in babysitting. She had written all our adventures, so that I could go home and show my friends what an amazing time I had in California. My heart still swells thinking about those cute little post-its that made me sound important and loved; I needed that. Amy's friendship changed the direction my life path was taking.

She could have not followed through with our plan to be pen pals and that would have been ok... we were just kids... but she did follow through. We wrote about once a month at first and then the letters were sometimes sparse and sometimes plentiful; it depended on what was going on in our lives. (Mine were more sparse than plentiful; she was much more faithful.) She always found quotes or stories that she put in her letters that were thought provoking or inspiring. I loved going to the mail box and finding a long thick envelope colorfully decorated with drawings and stickers. I was giddy every time because I knew each letter would be just as colorfully written. They made me laugh because no matter what she was going through, Amy always had a witty clever anecdote to go with the challenge. She did not mean for them to, but sometimes they made me cry because she would include a poem like this, and I would think about death, and if anyone would notice that I died, and what would people say when I died, and etc.:

So let me live that when I die,

A tear will come to every eye.
In every heart there'll be a spot,
An empty place where I am not.
So let me live that when I'm gone,
Kind thoughts of me will linger on.
And folks will say, with grief inside,
I sort of wish she hadn't died.

Her letters kept me grounded, though, and brought me out of my funk, eventually. They made me feel real because I existed outside of my bubble, my world. I existed in her world. I thought sometimes that I would disappear, and then there would be this colorful letter in MY mailbox with MY name, telling me that I was important enough for someone to sit down and write to me about their life; each letter making me less invisible.

As the years ticked by we continued to write and sometimes call, and see each other when I would visit California with my family for vacation. On one of those visits she decided that she would come back with me to Idaho to visit, and eventually live. We had some really amazing times and poor Rana, my sister, was the source of much of our entertainment and laughter. But...as many of you know living with someone is quite different from hanging out, and well...she got to see my truly pessimistic nature. She was normally awesome at turning my frown upside down. Babar the elephant comes to mind, but that is another story for another day. During one of my negative rants, Amy said something to me that again changed the direction my life path, she said, "Rochelle, no one wants to be around negative people, and I know how much you love people and having them around. So...you need to figure out how to be more positive." This raw, authentic, conversation changed my life. The change did NOT happen over night; this statement still takes a bench in the back of my mind, so that when, intuitively, my negative Nelly shows her face, it jumps up and calls me back. And... now I can not say that my personality is intrinsically positive, but I have made decisive efforts to look at life more optimistically. One thing that I would like to mention, though, is that Amy would not have been able to make this sort of fingerprint on my soul without the framework she laid in her safekeeping and care for my soul in the years leading up to this moment. I am a firm believer that criticism can only be productive when there is love and concern to back it up.

If any of this is sounding familiar you might be thinking of a particular movie with Bette Midler. After "Beaches" came out, Amy and I both said to each other, "this is our story." No...I unfortunately did NOT become a famous Broadway Star and Singer and our ending isn't as sad. But...Amy is, as cheesy as this sounds, "the wind beneath my wings."

Amy, there are too many inside jokes to recite, but anytime I see a cartoon elephant, Aladdin, Martin Short, or hear the name Muffy and a plethora of other random things I think of the ways that being introduced to you has changed my life. I am grateful to have had you as an example of a: strong, independent, optimistic, thoughtful, confident, beautiful woman as a partner in crime and friendship. I am blessed to have had you as my pen pal. You instilled a love of words and introduced me to a way of expressing and describing life that I believe enriched my soul. We formed a bond through words on paper. Thank you for bringing that letter box to Karie's and thank you for changing my life path. I will always consider you one of my best friends. Thank you!

Margaret Young

I have, for a long time, said to many people that, if I get the opportunity to have children, a little girl in particular, I would like to name her Margaret. I think your name is important; your name identifies you, and if a person can associate positively with their name I think it can give that person a measure of confidence. I have always thought how wonderful it would be to be able to tell my daughter about the type of person her name sake is. I would be able to tell her that I had never met a more angelic person in my life. It is as though when you are with her you can not help but see the light in others and see all of the goodness in yourself.


Last week I wrote about my mom’s spirituality. Writing about Margaret is an extension of that because she also is a woman that I respect for her devotion to her faith and her desire to live her life authentically. Over the weeks of contemplating my moral compass I also could not help but think about Margaret, her faith, her love, and her ability to help other see divinity in themselves. 

Her unique genuine reflective nature left a profound impact on my soul and my dealings with others. In many of my other blogs I have talked about woman who have either been an example of not judging others or taught me that it is not my place to judge others. These have been important fingerprints for me. But…Margaret taught me something different about judgment that is imperative to those of us women that find ourselves allowing people into our lives that are toxic because we have been taught not to judge. I learned through Margaret that I do NOT need to feel guilty for judging an individual as far as whether they are a positive or negative influence on me and my family and whether or not I want them in my space. These are necessary choices each of us must make for the well-being or ourselves and those around us. She taught me that treating all people kindly and seeing the good in folks is not the same as allowing every person into our lives to potentially use and/or abuse us. I saw her many times treat the most bazaar people with caring respect, I know they must have felt her light and saw their own goodness in the reflection of that light. However, she also did not always let them into her circle, and she treated them with kindness in those instances she was necessarily in their presence. For me this was a great epiphany because, mistakenly, I thought that for me to not to be a respecter of persons I had to allow anyone that wanted in my life into my space or I was being judgmental which in turn made me feel guilty. This epiphany gave my soul freedom; the freedom to let my intuition be my guide. I could be kind, but still take care of myself.

Please do not mistake me, I am not disillusioned to think that she is perfect and flawless, but… because of her genuine reflective nature I felt like all of her flaws as well as my flaws blur into the background scenery, still present, but what is left in focus is a raw, true, version of ourselves, like how a mother or God may see us. Margaret is not only that beautiful window into heaven, she is also mischievous, creative and fun. She made life fun. Like themed weeks: swear word week (you could swear as much as you wanted) or poetry week (we wrote and read poetry) or diary week (you had to make sure you wrote in your journal everyday and go through your past journals sharing experiences). During diary week I remember she told me that her Dad wrote in her journal once a week, things about her and her life during that time, until she was 8 and then he gave them to her to take over. I thought that was the most amazing idea. She turned the most mundane events into a party and a great time. I knew she was going to make a happy home and be an awesome mom.


Shortly after she married I was chatting with her and asked her how it was going being a step-mom. (Aside: The story I am about to tell about Margaret, I hope I get right; I will use a lot of qualifiers because it has been several years since she told me the story, is the perfect incident to exemplify her to those of you who do not know her or what an amazing woman she is. I have heard many horror stories about being a step-mom, but I remember thinking how lucky that little girl would be because I can not imagine another woman loving and caring for a child more like a mom then their actual mother.) She said that it was going well and that she had had the cutest experience with her, (I think) 4 yr. old, step-daughter. They were at church sitting in a pew, and (I believe) her step-daughter asked her where her mommy was and she said she did not live there. She was quiet and then asked where her other mommy was and Margaret told her she only had one mommy. The girl, so sad with tears in her eyes said, “you only have one mommy.” After Margaret told me that I just thought to myself of course she feels that way because as children our reality is everyone else’s reality too, and how sad to realize that everyone in this world does not get to have a Margaret in their life. I am saddened by that thought as well.


Margaret, I know that I have told you before how endeared I am to you, but I want you to know that knowing you help me to know and love myself and others in a much greater measure. You, for me, are the picture of spirituality, the master photographer of the human spirit. You bring into focus the soul. Thank you. Thank you for being my friend and allowing me into your space. Thank you for focusing my soul. I feel privileged to call you friend. 

Happy Mother's Day, Mom

It is Mother's Day on Sunday, so... of course,  it's appropriate that I spend the week thinking of my own mother. This, I think, will be one of the hardest blogs for me to write because how can I, in a few paragraphs, write the impact of the woman who is one of my best friends and my ultimate inspiration for everything, that taught, encouraged, and molded me into the person I've become. It will be impossible to articulate the impermeable depth in which I love and respect Sheila Anderson Foster. My hope is that she will feel and fathom her importance in the lives of her family because her family is the MOST important thing in her life.

My mom filled our home with books, but they did not just sit on a shelf she brought them to life  by reading to us each night before we went to sleep while we snuggled in our bed. My favorite book she read was "Charlotte's Web" possibly because she read it to us numerous times or maybe the appeal was talking animals and unlikely friendship. Even back then, she was teaching us to love no matter the social norms. When my sister and I were lucky enough to get our own rooms; I remember wondering if she would stop reading to us since we were in separate rooms. Nope...I love my memory of my mom sitting in the hallway between our rooms, so that we could both hear and hearing her raspy voice lulling my mind into another world. Though our tastes in books diverged our love of reading remained.

My mom filled our home with fun. She loves parties, company, and entertaining! We hated the preparation to these events because company meant long hours of extra cleaning and yard work. My mom wanted anyone that came into our home to feel comfortable and loved; for her this meant starting out with a clean home. One time... my cousin came from California and as she was giving me a hug hello, she whispered, "you guys have been cleaning for days haven't you?" I just nodded and smiled because I knew my mom wouldn't want her to know how much she prepared for their arrival.
She smiled and nodded back. However...the pay off was always worth it because our home filled with fun, love, and laughter. She even turned her peacekeeping efforts into fun. One time... I sassed my mom and my dad
slapped me afterword he tried to hug me, but I was not having any of that. I went to my room, slammed my door, turned up my music, and sulked. My dad left. Because she is forever the peacemaker, she came to my room and told me that part of my consequence was that I had to come upstairs and play board games until I was having fun and happy again. It was annoyingly effective. Surprisingly, Sheila's fun is spontaneous. She's completely random in her funniness; she comes across meek and mild, but all of the sudden you think she's asleep, but secretly she is dressing-up crazy and popping out stumbling and talking like an overly inebriated lady or deciding she wants to dress like a clown, and a plethora of other impulsive, carefree, hilarious unsuspecting moments.

My mom filled our home with music. On Saturdays we would clean; my mom would always put on music and generally my dad would either work outside or go run errands and that is when the jamming began. My mom would blast the music and we bellowed with our terrible voices. We always knew when my dad would come home because all of the sudden our music would be turned down. She instilled a love of music and though most of us are not a musically talented family we were taught to be appreciators of music and musical talent.

The thing my mom filled our home with most, and continues to fill our souls with, is love. I have always known how much my mom loves me. She encourages me to do whatever or be whomever I want. I have even, on occasion, been annoyed with how much love and support she gives me. She always says "whatever you decide I will love and support you." Ug...I think to myself just tell me what to do for crying out loud. ;-) How silly is that! One of her mantras is "if you can't say something nice don't say anything at all." Not only did she say it, but she lived by those words. I asked her once why she never talked bad about anyone and she told me that a long time ago a lady in her congregation told her that another man and woman in their congregation were having an affair. She said that she could never look at that man the same and she did not even know for sure that the rumor was true. She said she NEVER wanted to be the person that made another feel like she did that day. She wished she could un-hear the information because she did not want to think badly of this man. I think sometimes that because she is quiet people may mistake her shyness for judging or her meekness for apathy.  She is always thinking about other people and their needs. I wish I could be more like her. Mom, I know you LOVE Celine Dion. I share her sentiments for you!



Finally, my mom filled our home with spirituality. Though I am not an active participant I appreciate the love and faithfulness she has for her religion. She taught us that it is important love above all else. Four or five years ago I was trying to figure out what I wanted my moral compass to be because I did not know what I believed about God, so I decided I needed to think about how I wanted to live my life. I started by thinking about all of the tenets I was either taught or came to believe, and I came up with a philosophy for myself. There are three things that form my moral compass: 1. Love of God; 2. Love of self; 3. Love of others. All of these came from the way my mom tried to live her life. She always talks about being Christ-like; love penetrated each part of her life, from work, to home, to church, and to being part of the community. She is exemplar at being human. There are others that are more religious and more active in church and community, but my mom is extraordinary in her efforts to live by Matthew 22:35-39: 35 Then one of them, which was a lawyer, asked him a question, tempting him, and saying, 36 Master, which is the great commandment in the law? 37 Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. 38 This is the first and great commandment. 39 And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. I know how lucky I am to be her daughter and be given the opportunity to have her as my mentor, guide, and supporter. One of our prophets', President Ezra Taft Benson, daughter wrote a poem that echos my feeling about my mom. Which reads:

You, Mother, are from heaven,

An angel in disguise,

For purposes God sent you down,

For reasons great and wise.

He talked with you before this earth,

Your worth he knew was great.

A mission he set up for you,

Beyond the first estate.

How blessed I am that God saw fit

That I should call you Mother,

How blessed it is that he chose me,

Instead of any other.

I want to tell you, Mother dear,

That I feel truly blessed.

Without your light to lead me on,

The end would find no rest.

So here I am, your life my goal,

’tis you who made me upright,

Oh God, I thank you for my Mom,

And for your blessed foresight.

Mom, I love you! You are beautiful inside and out and I am thankful that you were the one to guide me from little person to adult. You are the ultimate molder of my person. Your fingerprints can be detected all over my soul.  

Katrina McBride/Stephanie Page

These ladies were my first roommates. This many years later (hu..uh...20 years) I have some perspective on the amazing women that were introduced in my life, and how they shaped my formidable years; I could not have anticipated how scary it would be to go it on my own. Luckily, these two Banger Sisters, one bridled and the other wild; both were up for escapades, which made my first time in the real world a land mine of anecdotes, anything could happen at any time. And... believe me when I say anything DID happen: scary movies, pierced belly buttons at home with a cube of ice and a protractor, laughing until you sigh and then laughing again until you sigh again and then laughing until you cry, skipping school to lay-out at the park, random parties and meeting strangers, long talks about boys, career, philosophy, and God while walking hills and tracks, willy nilly road trips to Rexburg, Blackfoot, Burley, Salt Lake City, Lake Powell, running out of gas at 1:30 a.m. in the middle of no where, driving all night long to the largest camp-out party I've ever been to, in southern Utah, being bored, and then turning around and driving to Burley Idaho and back to Logan Utah in about 72 hours.  It was the only time in my life when I was so fearless, good? bad? I don't know. I hate to sound like a stoner, but man...that was a stellar time.

Stephanie, for me is the epitome of assertive. She would put together the adventure, organize the details, and then sit back and watch them unfold, watch the rest of us go into crazy mode. Somehow she participated in the adventure, but never looked like a fool with the rest of us. Stephanie, is successful in anything she does, no doubt, because of her intelligence. She encouraged my free spirited nature. No matter my thoughts on a subject she accepted me; I never felt like I had to be something or someone that I wasn't with her. She goaded me to try new things or ways of thinking, to be unafraid, and then if whatever I had tried didn't feel honest she let me change or change my mind without ridicule or judgment. I owe that part of my soul that so often wants to flit away towards something new and exciting to Stephanie's cultivation of my free spirit. Stephanie thank you for your friendship, and shaping and championing my free spirit.

On the other hand, Trina is the person that would be my anchor, so that I stayed close to my roots. Trina is a rock. She is strong and good! She always kept me balanced and coaxed confidence from my unsure soul. I think it is appropriate that Trina became a nurse because she is a nurturer. She was motherly even back then. When we had our insane adventures she always brought thoughtfulness and instinct to the board. She knew what to do in a crisis. I had a melt down once after a long stint of binge drinking; I didn't know what was going on or what to do. She knew. Thank you Trina for your words and deeds that night. Drama aside, she saved my life. She also allowed me to be authentic and did not judge.  Trina, you have been a beautiful friend over these many years. I am grateful that we became roomies, so that I got to experience you. You always made me feel worth and that I could fly or walk and both were good options. You are thoughtful of me and my feelings always whether you were getting married or just randomly running into me. Thank you for your nurturing example.

My Banger Sisters have left fingerprints of wings and anchors both of which I need in my life.  

LAST WEEK

I have been putting off writing my blog for a few reasons. Then last night I laid awake writing the entire thing in my head. It is always in those hours of reverie that I come up with the best one liners or some analogy that completely blows my mind. In the morning though, it is nothing more than a hazy outline or a pile of rubble; I awake confused and discombobulated. ;-) I'm hoping as I write the words will fall back into place and the end result will be clear. I did not write last week. First, I was mourning with some of the people I love the most. I felt they deserved all of the attention I could give them because I was going to get to come home and go on with life per usual while they were left with a hole where their lunch had been, or their service, or their housemate, or all of the many other ways in which my GG impacted their regular everyday lives. Of course, I was mourning for myself and in particular for my Dad, but... certainly the loss of a loved one is different for those that are with them everyday or week, and after all the hubbub is over is when the quiet sets in and the hole is so much more apparent.

Second, I did not want to! ;-) I question the purpose of this blog every week. I started out with such excitement and enjoyment in who I was going to write about and what I was going to write. I am not very far into the year and my confidence is waning. I had to go back to the beginning and remind myself of some of my reasons. My cousin and I were talking about how people always talk about the wonderful attributes of a person after they are gone and usually do not get around to telling their people what they think of them. I told her that was one of the reasons I wanted to do this blog. I want people to hear what I think of them before they are no longer able to. But... recently, I also have this nagging scripture running through my head. I remember the first time I heard this quoted. I was 21. He was a missionary and one of my leaders as a missionary. Like in the beginning of this project I was excited to tell my story and help the world become a better place with my love for people. I remember talking to him and telling him an experience that was dear to me, he said, "Sister Foster, can I give you some advise?" I said, "sure." He said, "don't cast pearls before swine." I didn't get it. I was confused because I had never heard that before, so I asked him what that was supposed to mean. He told me that our pearls are the things that are important to us and the swine are people that don't care about those things, and that if I continued to share my "important things" with people that don't care I would continually be disappointed  and let down in life because my pearls would get muddy and likely lost.

 

I have started to feel like maybe I should have just wrote each of these women a letter; I am still thinking that would have been a good option. Then I go back to some of the other reasons I wanted to share my thoughts in a blog.  I hope that whomever you are out there, reading this, tell someone who has inspired you how they left a fingerprint on your soul. If you do then my insecurity about "casting my pearls before swine" will not be in vain. If you don't I am betting that you care otherwise why would you take the time to read about women you don't know. I just have to keep giving myself pep talks (you'll forgive me, I hope) and keep my insecurities in check. These women and the life lessons, attributes, and love they taught me are my pearls. Though they may drop in the mud or be rooted out by pigs my hope is that I will be able to clean and display them as the miracles they are, so they can be properly appreciated.  

In the next few days I will post about one of my miracles without the taint of insecurity. Thank you all for your support and patience.  

Mary Jane

My heart has been heavy with thoughts of mortality and how fragile our bodies are, and how we process losing our loved one. This last November I lost a cousin that was dear to me. He lived in California, but his family brought him home to be buried. at his funeral were several elderly folks. They may have known him as a boy from being in their congregation, Sunday school, or scouts, but they didn't know him now. I turned to my cousin and said something about the peculiarity of the situation of why they were there. She said, "remember we are taught to mourn with those that mourn and comfort those that stand in need of comfort."  Her words pricked my heart. I had always thought of funerals as a time to pay your respect to the one that has passed, and I still believe that, but, most certainly, I think, funerals are for those of us left behind. They allow the mourners to be comforted and allow the loved ones of the mourners to comfort. There is something really powerful that connects souls on a deep level when you can give comfort or be a recipient of comfort. I echo the words of Peggy Haynes, she says: "Contrary to what a lot of people believe (or hope) comfort doesn't take the pain away. Comfort slides in beside the pain pulling up a chair so that we have something more than sorrow in our hearts. Comfort gently expands our spirits so that we can breathe again. Comfort opens our eyes so that we can see possibility again. And on those days, whether it is the next day or five years removed, on that day when grief rears its dark head again, comfort helps us remember that pain is not all there is.

There are different types of love that one feels for their family, one type comes from familiarity with a person. The fact that they are around in your space and you are a better person for it. However, there is another type of love that has nothing to do with being in some one's space. This is the type I feel for my grandma Mary Jane and, I believe... her for me. It transcends miles and age. Sure maybe it has something to do with DNA memory, but I believe it is bigger then that; love that connects our souls. It is an everlasting, eternal love. I am grateful that though life decisions took my dad, ultimately to Idaho. He and my mom made sure that we stayed in contact with his family because the opportunities that I would have had to spend time and learn from my Grandma would have been lost. What a tragedy that would have been! I would not have: heard that gregarious laugh again, those inappropriate, yet hilarious jokes, I would not have felt the loving wack of her cane on my rear, and I would not have been able to sit on the edge of her bed listening to her crazy antics and loving words of wisdom.

MARY JANE YOU WILL BE MISSED!

She is the perfect balance: of fierceness and tenderness; of gumption and layed-backness; of strictness and generosity.

Words are inadequate to describe the tapestries woven by family. You love them so deeply though you can't exactly pick out the  particular threads that are the design of your life. This is especially the case of those family member that you do not get to experience often enough. Like the sprinkling of color in a black and white tapestry. Grandma thank you for being my bit of red.

My favorite bit of red is Mary Jane's reaction to my dad telling her I had gotten a tattoo. It is on my hip and when I showed her my tattoo. She jumped up out of her chair and nearly toppled over, and while she was jumping out of her chair she was telling me that she had a tattoo of a mouse on her butt. She pulled down her pants and showed me her butt. I said, "Grandma you don't have a tattoo!" and she said, "Oh...the pussy must'a ate it." And then she laughed until she cried and I laughed until I nearly peed my pants.


A grandmother's relationship is different for each individual. She could be like a mother, or just someone you see once in a while, but...regardless they hold an irreplaceable spot on our hearts.

Daisy Dog

A week from today will mark one year since my darling Daisy died. She was my soul-mate and friend. Some will find it strange that I call a dog my friend and soul-mate, and some will understand exactly what I am talking about because they have experienced this unique bond between dog and human; "a boy's best friend," phhhhhsh, the saying should be "a girl's best friend." She could not have been better suited for me. I don't know if it was luck, fate, destiny, or something else, but luckily we found each other.

I had lived all by myself for a little over two years. I was happy to be on my own. I could do what I wanted, when I wanted, ironically... this also reminded me of how totally alone I was; sometimes the loneliness consumed me swallowing up, even, my time with others. My friend Mindy suggested I get a dog, but I didn't think that would help, so I was not actively looking. Mindy did do something though. (This is her son using Daisy as a pillow, while she willingly lays there wide awake.) She talked about it with her boyfriend, and one day he overheard a co-worker saying he needed to get rid of a 4 month old female black lab because his wife didn't like her. Steve gave me the contact information and I called the fellow. As he started talking about her I knew she was mine and then I asked him her name, he said, "Daisy," and my heart leapt a little. You see... daisies are my favorite flower; a long time ago I even wrote a silly poem, and would when I doodled it was usually a daisy. During that conversation my intuition was screaming at me, "she is yours take her! Take her!" So...I did. I took her home because I knew she was mean to be mine.

When I would come home for lunch or home from work I would regularly find her in this chair or on the back of the couch by the window seemingly waiting for me to come home. When we lived with my parents for a short time my mom said that about 5:00 p.m. each day she would go to the window and wait for me to come home. Always greeting me with a wagging tail and a huge smooch. No matter the day I had, this sweet gesture lifted my spirits. We don't need words or reason to bring happiness in fact I think sometimes those get in the way. I think that's why having a friend just sit with you when you are having a bad day is more helpful then someone trying to solve your problem. John Grogen, the guy who wrote Marley and Me said,“Such short little lives our pets have to spend with us, and they spend most of it waiting for us to come home each day. It is amazing how much love and laughter they bring into our lives and even how much closer we become with each other because of them.” Absolutely! I learned to be a better friend from Daisy's example.

She was the "rock star" of friends during my "dark days." I lost my job and because of that I lost my confidence, my passion, and my self-worth. I was lost! During the time I was unemployed I was made to feel that I could not leave my house unless I was looking for a job, because of some lies and underhanded things my previous employer told the unemployment office. (Long unnecessary story.) Anyway, many mornings the only thing I that got me out of bed was Daisy. She would scratch the door 3 times and if i still didn't get up she would lay her head next to mine so her wet nose would touch my cheek, and if that didn't work she would put her nose under my hand and flip it up. She always knew if I was having a bad day and would just lay on me and comfort me. Sometimes I would feel like staying in bed and somehow she knew that was bad news and would go to the front door and wait; like she wanted to go somewhere, a walk, or a drive. I would give in because her needs were more important then my depression. She loved riding in the car, and once I purchase a doggy harness for to seat-belt her in, I loved taking her. (She was a little out of control without one.) It always made me laugh when I would drive with her because I could help thinking,  

"I'm driving Miss Daisy." Truly though, I do NOT know what would have became of me if I would not of had her to take care of, and her to comfort me. I had some people that were supportive and kind during those "dark days," but Daisy was my lighthouse beaconing me back. I think one of the reasons she was able to do this is because she never said the wrong thing she just loved me and I could feel whatever I wanted when I was with her, and I did not have to explain myself or make excuses why I was in a certain mood. I was always grateful that there was not any judgement. There is a quote by Dean Koontz that I love he says,  "No matter how close we are to another person, few human relationships are as free from strife, disagreement, and frustration as is the relationship you have with a good dog. Few human beings give of themselves to another as a dog gives of itself. I also suspect that we cherish dogs because their unblemished souls make us wish -consciously or unconsciously- that we were as innocent as they are, and make us yearn for a place where innocence is universal and where the meanness, the betrayals, and the cruelties of this world are unknown." Oh how I wish this was the world that surrounded us. It is not. But...maybe if each of us took a page out of a dog's life we could get a little closer to that place.

I miss her still. I miss her thinking she was a lap dog. I miss her thinking she was a cat sitting in the window seal. I miss her smooches. I miss her spotted tongue. I miss her energy. I miss her devotion. I miss her weight when she would sit or lay on me because it made me feel safe. I miss her clever Houdini tricks. I miss her warmth. And, most of all I miss her love! She left an undeniable fingerprint on my soul. I am certainly a different person because she was in my life. Her death broke my heart and still breaks my heart. I felt that she was an extension of me and by default I was all of the wonderful things that she was. I grasp at some of those things now. 

This is to all of you that have loved an animal. There souls touch our lives and change us forever.