Strong women

As you may know, one of my best friends had the grand opening of her salon yesterday.  The grand opening was amazing not just because I won a prize.  If I had won nothing and just been there to see the opening, I would have been one of the most blessed women in the world.  This opening is the fruit of so much faith…so many hours of prayer, hard work and good ol’ faith.  I remember praying for Beverly 7-8 years ago.  The first time I prayed for her, I saw her in her own salon.  I told her and she yelled at me.  She was not interested.  Then a few years ago, the seed began to grow.  I remember when she found the building, and consequently lost the building.  I drove by what is now her salon and cried every time I saw it.  I remember when she “suddenly” got the building.  I remember walking through when it was a dusty, smelly, neglected, vacant auto parts store.  And now…it is a cutting edge salon that is transforming the lives of all of those who enter…her clients, her sales reps, her employees.  I know that it is not my salon, but I walked through the process with Beverly and Ted.  And I am so proud of them.

My mother is a strong woman.  Sure, at times she drives me bonkers.  (I’m still convinced that mom’s get lessons the few days they are in the hospital after giving birth about the exact way to push their kids’ buttons.)  Back to mom.  She has this gift for working with people who are very ill.  A few years ago, she cared for my godmother’s mother as she was dying of cancer.  This past spring, she spent a good portion of her time nursing her best friend since 7th grade in her battle with cancer.  Right now, she is helping to care for another friend’s mother at the end of her battle with emphysema.  I don’t know how she does it, seriously.  I have to honor her strength.  I remember seeing my Aunt Lorrie the last time.  I burst into tears and ran from the house.  But my mom stayed by her side.  What a woman.

One of the best things to come out of this time for my mother is that today she is spending time with my grandmother.  My grandmother went through quite a bit of emotional trauma as a child and as an adult, and she’s not dealt with the effects of this trauma.  So, she is a bit….abrasive.  But that is a protective layer–she’d rather hurt you than be hurt by you.  I’m proud of mom for pressing through.  I know that it’s not easy.

If I had a glass, I’d tip it to two of the strongest women I know…I don’t know if either of you will read it, but you are both an inspiration to me.  I love you both.

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