I have been blessed with many women and men I can look up to in life. I would like to express my thanks to three of them.
Sister Clark (now passed)
My Daddy
and my sister-in-law Ria.
Sister Clark was the first women that I had to stop and realize I wanted to model my life after. No offense to my own mother intended. We simply have different wants in life. Sister Clark seemed to me the kind of woman I would love to emulate, and also had a chance of actually becoming.
Sister Clark was the mother of many boys. And I mean a lot - we are LDS, after all. Most of them were around my age, so the activities we went on was the reason I was able to learn a bit more about their mother. They were all very nice boys, (I was the weird kid, so there was no chance of romance with them, just to get that out of your heads right now.) so it stood to reason they had strong examples. Their father was strong and moral and a hard worker. Their mother was a stay-at-home-mom that while helping her family in every way she could and dedicating an amazing amount of time to each and every one of them, never lost herself and her inner strength.
I have always wanted to be a mother and wife. But I was terrified of becoming less of myself and losing my own strength in the face of those roles. I grew up in an age of girl-power. I remember vividly my peers at rather young ages tell anyone who would listen that they didn't want to have kids because they wanted to work, not be "just a mom". I'm pretty sure, looking back, they just didn't want to be like their mothers. Which is a very common fear among teenage girls that feel misunderstood by parents. But there was also a drive that we could all feel to be just as good as men, just as strong, and never give up anything to be put into a box. The awakening of feminism in my peer group, you could say. I listened to this. I didn't add much to those conversations (okay, I wasn't invited into them. I eavesdropped like the creepy little child I was) but I took in a lot of what they were saying.
I didn't want to lose myself. I didn't want to be "just a" anything. I didn't have any particular dreams to strive for yet, but I was under the impression I could be anything I wanted to be, and the idea that being a wife and mother would take that away from me was terrifying.
And it didn't look to me like Moms had very much fun.
Then I noticed Sister Clark. She loved all her boys and her husband and was dedicated to them. I saw and respected that. But I also saw that she didn't give up any of her interests. She learned to enjoy a lot of what her sons did. Then she also went and did the things she loved.
In particular, there was one day I remember very well that I understood how good of a woman Sister Clark was. We all had gone for a hike. (It was a church activity. I hated exercise and tried to get out of it, to be clear.) I was dreading the day. While it was everyone my age and the adult leaders, I was very aware that I would have no friends there. I was the weird one that the kids my age didn't like as I made them uncomfortable. And the leaders were going to push about Personal Progress goals (A whole other story) and/or lecture me about fitting in and trying harder. I was prepared for an unfortunate day.
The hike was much more difficult that anticipated by anyone. Which is what you get when you ask a man-child newly returned from boot camp to pick an easy hike. It was longer and much steeper than nearly anyone was used to hiking. Many people, young and old alike, started to get fatigued quickly.
I was not in shape by any regard. I was about 110 lbs at the time, awkward, and didn't even like climbing the staircase in my own home because I got winded so easily.
I started to lag behind the others. My sibling was on the hike as well, and he had a backpack with our water bottles in it to stay hydrated. A great idea. Except for the fact that when around other young men he became very competitive. He was at the head of the pack with the most fit of the young men, striving to be the first to the lookout point. (They argued about it, but I'm telling you this was a freaking mountain. The made me climb a small ish mountain!) So I didn't have water, couldn't catch my breath, and was overheating quickly.
Sister Clark didn't know me in particular. She was not a leader for the young women. She was just a mom that was helping out with an activity and saw that I was not doing well.
Sister Clark was used to hiking. All her boys liked that sort of outdoor shenanigans. In fact, that man-child I mentioned that picked the hiking trail of torture was one of her older boys. She was up to the task. But she noticed a skinny unhappy girl falling behind and about to cry. Sister Clark immediately slowed her pace and started to walk beside me. This is a kindness that still gets me.
She started to talk to me as a friend would. She wanted to know my interests and goals. She shared funny stories of her life that made her more approachable. When I asked how it was to have a house of all boys, she was very frank. She had had to keep up with young energetic boys. She had to be willing to do strenuous things that they wanted to do. She had had to learn a lot of different sports in order to cheer them on in what they were doing. None of which were things she had known before. And she was clearly happy she had learned. Sister Clark told me she had at first appreciated those kind of things. Then she came to enjoy them herself. But she also said that she hadn't given up her own things she liked to do for fun.
I honestly can't remember what all of her hobbies were. She had a lot. And this was nearly two decades ago. What I do remember is thinking that she hadn't given up anything at all to be a wife and mom. She kept herself. She was herself all the way, but she added new things on top of that. She didn't let some of her drop to pick up "guy things". She did those things happily as well as what she wanted to do. She made time for her boys and husband, but also herself.
And she was nice.
A child of any age can easily tell when an adult is humoring them. It is painfully obvious when someone doesn't want to be hanging out with you, but it doing it because they think it is the right thing to do. Or they pity you.
Sister Clark didn't have to walk with me. She didn't have to make me laugh. She didn't have to try to relate to grumpy little me. But she did, and she seemed honestly interested in me as a person.
When I got too tired to continue, she stopped with me to take a break, though it meant she was going to miss seeing her boys reach the lookout point and take pictures. She pulled out her water and offered me some.
I refused. Because I had some, just not with me, and she should have her own water. She was the one who had prepared.
In total mom fashion, she didn't let me get away with that.
"Open up!" She said, and tipped the bottle over me. I had to open my mouth or waste the water for both of us. I appreciated this kindness bullying.
When we finally got to the top and I hobbled my way to the lookout point, she not only took pictures of her boys, who were refreshed, having resting while waiting for the rest of us and now goofing off way too close to the edge of the drop off, but made sure to take pictures of me and my brother too. She included us.
I have never seen those photos. I don't even know if they turned out. But I like to think she kept them and remembered me and that day.
Sadly, Sister Clark is no longer on this earth. She has passed into the eternities after a long battle with cancer.
Even after the hike, she took notice of me at church. She spoke to me in the hallways, which seems like a little thing but made all the difference to me.
During her battle with cancer, she was always kind and cheerful. Even when she knew for a fact that she was going to die. She sent a son on a mission while knowing there was a good likelihood she would never see him again. She came to church every week, even when she needed help walking and standing. She took the sacrament every week until the end. I always admired the strength of character and love for the gospel that kept her coming. Though she was for sure hurting, she never let it make her mean or preoccupied.
Hers was the first funeral I ever remember attending. I didn't go look at her in the casket. I refused to remember her as anything but living and vibrant.
She is still a standard for me to live up to.
My Daddy and I didn't always get along.
I was a difficult and unhappy child and teenager. Daddy is a hard man to understand.
I'm aware that he did his very best. Now. At the time I took things personally and wasn't willing to put aside my hurting to see things from his side.
It wasn't until I had the realization that Daddy prioritizes actions considerably more than words that I began to understand him.
My Daddy doesn't say "I love you" unless you push for it. He doesn't give a lot of hugs and isn't going to read anyone a bedtime story or tuck them into bed.
I had a long time of disliking my father before I understood how he said I love you.
He was always willing to give us a ride or pick us up if we really needed it.
He taught us how to do simple things with less effort.
He never yelled except in jest.
He tried to get us in on his (really strange) jokes.
He was always willing to be the bad guy if we needed a way out of something.
He never gave up on us, even when we were being awful to him (and we were, all of us)
He showed us respect for women by the example he set for always putting our mother in his highest regards.
He taught us respect by never allowing us to disrespect our mother.
He was willing to take any question by any of his kids seriously. Even the hypothetical silliness that sometimes arose at the dinner table.
He made sure there was always enough food for us and Momma, even if that meant he would leave the table not quiet full.
He started traditions with us.
He taught us how to use tools correctly so we could always get a quick fix done.
He never lectured about feminism - but showed my sisters and I we were capable of things even we didn't think we were.
He let us make mistakes and then helped us learn from them.
He took an interest in our lives and goals, even if they weren't what he wanted for us.
He respected our choices even if they hurt him.
He would praise us on those hard decisions we had to make.
He would make us talk our way through our own problems to come up with a solution.
He could get everyone to giggling about nothing.
He had a tendency to show us good food when we didn't want to forgive him yet.
He let us find our own wants and passions and how we would fight for them.
He waited to lecture until he wasn't angry anymore.
He understood when he was wrong and tried his best to not make the same mistakes twice.
He made sure Santa on the fire truck knew our names.
He never ruined the imaginings of any child.
He controlled his fear of stickiness to hold a grandchild in order to give relief to one of his children.
He sits with his children when they are sick and just spends time with them doing what they are doing.
He is willing to watch a chick flick to make someone happy.
He does things that make him uncomfortable or feel ridiculous for someone else to feel good.
He takes my mom to stores he absolutely hates because he knows she likes them.
He doesn't allow any of us to stop learning new things every day.
That was a list. And those are only the things I can think of from the top of my head.
I realized my Daddy was there for me and showing his love when I clicked what was happening with the dinner dates.
I had to go to a chiropractor. I had and still suffer from a bad back. It causes a lot of pain, and during that time it was getting difficult to move around and do my job. So Daddy took my to one of his friends who was a chiropractor, and started me on a treatment plan.
Past the fact that he footed the bill for the treatment, he made a deal with me.
The chiropractor was on the farthest possible side of town away from where we lived. It was quite a drive there and back, and took a lot of time Daddy could be spending elsewhere. So Daddy made me the offer of taking me to the chiropractor twice or three times a week, as needed, if I would treat him to dinner every Monday at a place of his choosing.
I accepted, because I'm no dummy.
First of all, I think the best part of these dinners for Daddy was when they would hand him the check and he would hand it right to me. The faces of the wait staff when I happily paid every time was priceless. Daddy really likes letting people come to their own conclusions about things, even if they are showing by their shock they have reached the wrong one. He likes a silent joke.
During the dinners, however, we usually talked about the same sort of things. What my plans were. My plans for university. My goals for my life in general. He wanted to know how I planned to save and use money. He let me gush on about writing and my stories. What my plans were to use my writing and get published.
Daddy wanted to know where I was going in life.
At first, in the mind of a grumpy teen, it felt like he was grilling me. I thought he wanted me to somehow prove myself and show I had a brain and wasn't going to be a burden to the family. The first few dinners I took offense and was hurt by his seeming distrust that I could figure my life out.
Then I realized that he was telling me he loved me every week. He was helping me solidify a detailed plan of what I wanted and how I was going to get it. He was supporting my ideas. He accepted what I wanted to do though he wanted so much more for me. He was trying to show an interest in my life.
Daddy was trying to help me reach all my dreams in the only way he knew how.
That was when I really got it.
Daddy doesn't say I love you all the time, because he wants people to feel it from what he does instead of just hear it over and over. When I asked him about it directly one day he told me that if he has to say it for his family to know he loves them, it means he failed in showing it.
So I thought back to all the times he was silently showing his love instead of saying it.
Daddy likes to buy shoes or purses for me that he think I will like. And he pays attention, because everything he has bought me I have loved. He gets me.
My Daddy has shown he is proud of me when I had to make hard choices to miss out of fun and family in order to be responsible.
He made great efforts to understand and like the man I chose to marry.
The moment I realized he approved of My Lovely I felt like I had finally lived up to his high standards for me.
My Daddy, and yes, I still call him Daddy. I never did stop, even when we weren't on the best of terms. I don't care how old I get. He is my Daddy. My Daddy is all the above. He is a solid intelligent man that wants the best for his family and shows his love through little constant things.
He is my role model in that. And also because he became my standard of a man.
Daddy wasn't always strong in the Church. He had his trials just like anyone else.
While I don't necessarily like the way he worked through some of his trials or agree with how he thinks other things should be handled, I can see how he overcame them. He had to struggle and come to some hard decisions.
Then he decided for himself and on his own what he wanted out of life. He came back to the Church and the countless meetings and activities that comes along with that. He changed what he had to to become a better man. My Daddy became so strong in the Gospel that many people would never believe he ever had a single struggle with it.
I don't think he ever lost his testimony of the Gospel. But there is a serious difference between the doctrine of the church and the people that make up the congregation. People are difficult to always get along with. Socializing is hard.
Daddy took all of that and decided to take the bad with the good in order to become the man he needed to be.
I watched as he turned it all around. (Yes, even eavesdropping. Leave me alone) He started cutting out sleeping time to read the scriptures on his own. He started trying to get the family to read together in the mornings. He bore his testimony in little ways. He shared fun little tidbits of Gospel facts during family meals. He was just around more for us to get to know.
Daddy became the standard of what a priesthood holder should be. He became strong in the Gospel on his own and helped others get there too. He has always been a great teacher and I watched as he took joy is explaining things to anyone, young or old, who had a question. He was very patient with those that were a bit more irksome.
My Daddy went from a man I was fighting, as only a teenager can, to a man I measured my potential dates against. If someone I was interested wouldn't be as spiritual, respectful, and kind as my Daddy, it wasn't going to happen. If my Daddy can bare his testimony with simple clarity, so can any guy that wants my attention. If my Daddy goes to all his meetings and fulfills his callings happily and completely, then you know I expect that from any man I would consider.
My Daddy is my role model of what a man should be.
If you are still reading, I am kind of impressed. Thank you.
The last person I will gush about on this post is my sister-in-law.
Ria does everything that can be taken out of context as that put-upon "just-a-mom" worry, but she does them in the absolute perfect fashion.
I want to be her when I grow up.
Ria has multiple children. She is a stay-at-home-mom. She home schools those kiddos. She makes bread from scratch. She sews clothing for her children and for fun gifts. She makes cards for each person to make them feel special on birthdays and anniversaries. She always has kind things to say about anyone. She makes healthy meals for her family (that are delicious, I'll have you know) nearly every meal. She maintains her weight. She works out every day, and goes on jogs by herself every morning. She makes time to chat with anyone. She is there for anyone in need. She always remembers to thank people.
Ria is just amazing.
Lots of those things, out of context, could make people become worried.
A lot of women try to get back to a certain weight for vain reasons or because of fear or pressure. Ria doesn't. She wants to be a healthy size for herself. She wants to feel good about herself and feel strong and healthy. She isn't doing all the fitness work to be a certain look or fit an expectation. She wants to get back to the place she felt the best, both physically and emotionally. She doesn't get pushed into it, but she wants to do it for herself.
As a result of her doing those good things for the right reasons, she is therefore being a perfect example to her children. Their Momma is doing hard things to be her best self.
She feeds her kids and husband good meals. They get to understand a have an appreciation for foods. They aren't getting all the junk that is in so many foods. And she does so not only for health, but because she genuinely enjoys cooking and providing meals for her loved ones.
Ria is kind. She rarely ever has anything negative to say about anyone. If anything, she takes too much on her own shoulders for others unkindness. She is very considerate and respectful of others choices and opinions. If she is aware someone else has a different preference for something, she does all she can to please them.
She is fun to be around. She wants to learn something from everyone. She listens amazingly well. She is happy to join a joke and give someone a laugh.
Ria has been in cahoots with me on several things because it made me happy. She was always very generous in having me over when we lived close and spending time with me. Ria gives the best, level headed advice.
She helped me greatly in polishing my novel in order to get it published.
My sister-in-law Ria always makes time to be kind.
I love her.
She is my role model because she is living the life I want to emulate, and she is doing it happily, of her own choosing, and for all the right reasons. She is incredible and sincere and loving.
She is my sister through marriage, but I consider her my sister in heart. I know I can always go to her, and I want to always be there for her if she needs the same.
I have been blessed with many role models.
Thank you for letting my gush about these three. They are huge influences for good in my life and give me a little hope each day.
I try to be an equally good person, for myself, and hoping I can some day be a kind of role model to someone else, even if I'm not aware of it.
Who are your role models in life and how have they impacted you?
