Strong Women
I woke this morning to an email from one of my Latvian friends. She is one of those people who instantly knew me, deep in my soul, as soon as we met. Has that ever happened to you? I've been lucky to have it happen many times in my life. In addition to the wonderfully strong women in my own family, I have felt the influence of powerful mentors throughout my life. I hesitate to name names, because I couldn't possibly name all of them. But I'm going to anyway, just to give you a sense.
There was Helen Jennings, who taught my Sunday School class when I was just a kid. She had the strength of a farmer's wife, a mom, a sense of right and wrong, and an innate knowledge of when to distribute hugs and when enough was enough. Her sister, Mary Ann Gestes, shared that same sense.
My teachers in school were almost all strong women... I remember one in particular, Mrs. Bonner (her first name was Gloria, like my mother, but my 2nd and 3rd grade self could never call her that). She understood me, knew me, and I was never so glad to have the same teacher two years in a row. When she went away on maternity leave, I was crushed. Her replacement didn't know me, and stood me in a corner. I never knew how much I'd miss Mrs. Bonner until that moment, staring at the "Pitch In" logo in the corner of the state map on the wall.
I could list all of my teachers through elementary, middle and high school, because they were each strong in their own way. Most of them didn't put up with any monkey business. Mrs. Swetnam recognized an un-athletic person in P.E., and later Athletics, and gave her something to do anyway. Mrs. Birdwell had the strength to laugh at herself when she wore one navy shoe and one black shoe to class. Mrs. Sanchez had the gumption to take a bunch of teenagers on a "biology walk" to learn the names of all the plants in the neighborhood. Mrs. Mom didn't disown me when I fell asleep in English, but I guarantee you she wasn't happy.
When I got to McMurry, Dr. Harper told me I could be the first female president of the university. It turns out, she earned that privilege. But I will always remember that she believed in me enough to think I could do it, even when I didn't see it in myself. The amazing thing is, she told me that the very first time I met her, my freshman year, during my first academic advisement.
My Theta Chi girls... oh, how they showed me strength. We argued and laughed and were petty and caring and thoughtful and mean. Just like sisters are. And we love each other still.
Dr. Lapoint, my management professor, seemed to think I could figure out a way to work with a bunch of misfit students to complete and present a somewhat cohesive group project. I complained, said there was no way. She had faith. She was right.
When I stuck my toe in the real work world as a college intern, Robbye Plummer took me under her marketing wing and showed me what it's like to be a full-time advocate. She worked tirelessly for the clients at MHMR in Abilene (now the Betty Hardwick Center).
At the same time, Tammy Sims was showing me how to be a strong working mom. She poured her heart into her own children, as well as her "adopted" college kids. Through laughter and tears, she dedicated her life and her prayers to seeing us all through it.
When I went to work full time, Anne Clinton pulled me into reality. She was from the banking world (transplanted into a church), and she accepted no less than your absolute, business best. Lori McCunniff listened tirelessly. So did Mary Kay McCauley. Amanda Medlock showed me that women can camp... without a camper... just a tent. Sherry Gosdin was energetic beyond belief. Debbie Haney was committed and appreciative and 100% sold on everyone using their God-given gifts.
Trudy Hughes was an instant friend, even though our first hours-long conversation was actually an interview. Bev Campisi gently force-fed me spiritual nourishment when I was dry and famished. Jenny Love grabbed me and insisted on making me talk. About everything. Jenny Davidson followed me around a fair bit, and demonstrates to this day an amazing ability to smile through grief and pain. Cindy Baldwin showed me that single moms are cool moms, and reminded me about the camping thing (even though she never got me out there amongst the bugs and critters). Cheri Rutledge, the very definition of a strong woman, spent all day every day caring about the needs of others while enduring emotional and physical pain of her own. Julie Croft, the quiet, reserved, wall-flower, bombed my photos and made crazy faces and redefined "quiet."
I could go on, and on, and on. I thank you, each of you, named and unnamed, for the amazing, beautiful impact you've had on my life. I am so, so blessed.
The interesting thing about strength is that it has nothing to do with muscles. When I went searching for an image to put with this post, I couldn't find one that did you all justice. A strong woman is not about lifting weights or earning degrees. She's not even about a strong mind. Her strength emanates from within and is made up of an indescribable essence of heart, soul, thought, and fortitude. I can't imagine life without you all.
There was Helen Jennings, who taught my Sunday School class when I was just a kid. She had the strength of a farmer's wife, a mom, a sense of right and wrong, and an innate knowledge of when to distribute hugs and when enough was enough. Her sister, Mary Ann Gestes, shared that same sense.
My teachers in school were almost all strong women... I remember one in particular, Mrs. Bonner (her first name was Gloria, like my mother, but my 2nd and 3rd grade self could never call her that). She understood me, knew me, and I was never so glad to have the same teacher two years in a row. When she went away on maternity leave, I was crushed. Her replacement didn't know me, and stood me in a corner. I never knew how much I'd miss Mrs. Bonner until that moment, staring at the "Pitch In" logo in the corner of the state map on the wall.
I could list all of my teachers through elementary, middle and high school, because they were each strong in their own way. Most of them didn't put up with any monkey business. Mrs. Swetnam recognized an un-athletic person in P.E., and later Athletics, and gave her something to do anyway. Mrs. Birdwell had the strength to laugh at herself when she wore one navy shoe and one black shoe to class. Mrs. Sanchez had the gumption to take a bunch of teenagers on a "biology walk" to learn the names of all the plants in the neighborhood. Mrs. Mom didn't disown me when I fell asleep in English, but I guarantee you she wasn't happy.
When I got to McMurry, Dr. Harper told me I could be the first female president of the university. It turns out, she earned that privilege. But I will always remember that she believed in me enough to think I could do it, even when I didn't see it in myself. The amazing thing is, she told me that the very first time I met her, my freshman year, during my first academic advisement.
My Theta Chi girls... oh, how they showed me strength. We argued and laughed and were petty and caring and thoughtful and mean. Just like sisters are. And we love each other still.
Dr. Lapoint, my management professor, seemed to think I could figure out a way to work with a bunch of misfit students to complete and present a somewhat cohesive group project. I complained, said there was no way. She had faith. She was right.
When I stuck my toe in the real work world as a college intern, Robbye Plummer took me under her marketing wing and showed me what it's like to be a full-time advocate. She worked tirelessly for the clients at MHMR in Abilene (now the Betty Hardwick Center).
At the same time, Tammy Sims was showing me how to be a strong working mom. She poured her heart into her own children, as well as her "adopted" college kids. Through laughter and tears, she dedicated her life and her prayers to seeing us all through it.
When I went to work full time, Anne Clinton pulled me into reality. She was from the banking world (transplanted into a church), and she accepted no less than your absolute, business best. Lori McCunniff listened tirelessly. So did Mary Kay McCauley. Amanda Medlock showed me that women can camp... without a camper... just a tent. Sherry Gosdin was energetic beyond belief. Debbie Haney was committed and appreciative and 100% sold on everyone using their God-given gifts.
Trudy Hughes was an instant friend, even though our first hours-long conversation was actually an interview. Bev Campisi gently force-fed me spiritual nourishment when I was dry and famished. Jenny Love grabbed me and insisted on making me talk. About everything. Jenny Davidson followed me around a fair bit, and demonstrates to this day an amazing ability to smile through grief and pain. Cindy Baldwin showed me that single moms are cool moms, and reminded me about the camping thing (even though she never got me out there amongst the bugs and critters). Cheri Rutledge, the very definition of a strong woman, spent all day every day caring about the needs of others while enduring emotional and physical pain of her own. Julie Croft, the quiet, reserved, wall-flower, bombed my photos and made crazy faces and redefined "quiet."
I could go on, and on, and on. I thank you, each of you, named and unnamed, for the amazing, beautiful impact you've had on my life. I am so, so blessed.
The interesting thing about strength is that it has nothing to do with muscles. When I went searching for an image to put with this post, I couldn't find one that did you all justice. A strong woman is not about lifting weights or earning degrees. She's not even about a strong mind. Her strength emanates from within and is made up of an indescribable essence of heart, soul, thought, and fortitude. I can't imagine life without you all.
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| (Facebook blocked me before I could get everyone's pictures, so I'm sorry if I missed you!!) |
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