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.